Gotham: A New Generation (IC)

[Ormata]

Isaac Elliot

“They’re in the basement, give me time to get them out.”

In between the “me” and the “time” she opened her fist and let the orb drop to the floor. The orb was a dud. Her eyes remained locked on his one, her face a calm mask. In one swift motion, while the orb was still in mid-air, her left hand reached behind her and pulled out her Taser and fired it at him. Classic misdirect. And if he so much as twitched after the first shot, she was prepared to keep firing until he was unconscious.

He felt electricity jolt through him, felt his muscles tense on the gun that was in his hand, moving it. He felt pain as which wouldn’t be nominally felt under most of all circumstances of one’s life. The muscles rebelled, his gaze falling up and up to the roof as his neck turned into metal, rigid and unmoving. Then the electricity stopped, the pins still in him. Isaac looked down, down to her and down to her face, and their eyes met again. His face was one of controlled fury, of a storm that just wanted to do, and he started to speak.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit. You don’t have time for this bullshit. I’d love it if you put a little faith in me, just a little, just a tiny little fucking ounce of it. This building is about to get swarmed. Swarmed, do you understand that? We’re about to get hit with a helluva thing so I’d kindly suggest that you get your fucking priorities in order, let me take these fucking metal spikes from my chest, and let me help you in dealing with this bullshit.”

His voice was taut, taut as a wire and strained with restrained emotion and anger that just wished to burst free and into the frenzy that could be, that would be, that was already outside. Isaac wanted to not see her face on the path, wanted her to live, wanted her to just fucking to the right goddamn thing but hell, she was naive as a devil. It was a bitch of a thing. Isaac sighed at it all, a heavy sigh.

“What’ll it take for you to trust me. My name is Isaac Elliot. At aged thirteen I shoved myself into Arkham, not because some cop told me to, not because a court ordered me to, not because a shrink wanted me to, but because it was the safest hole I could find for the rest of those around me, for normal bastards. I could’ve kept that all up, could have kept killing people just from my appearance, but y’know what? I fucking made a sacrifice, right here,” he pointed, with his other hand, to his face. “And I lived with that choice. I wanted to walk, to talk to people. I wanted to get to be a normal part of society, not a guy killing his nurses just because they took a walk near him to hand some meds over to the asshole next door, not a guy killing psychiatrists who were just trying to fucking help. I do shit, like this, and I try to do it right. What the fuck would it take, lady, for you to trust me.”

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

The electricity surged through him but he refused to go down. He was tough, she had to give him that.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit. You don’t have time for this bullshit. I’d love it if you put a little faith in me, just a little, just a tiny little fucking ounce of it. This building is about to get swarmed. Swarmed, do you understand that? We’re about to get hit with a helluva thing so I’d kindly suggest that you get your fucking priorities in order, let me take these fucking metal spikes from my chest, and let me help you in dealing with this bullshit.”

"You're right, we don't have time for this," she told him, a pained expression on her face. She saw his fury, the look of utter frustration and betrayal he gave her. It took all her willpower to remain unswayed. If he wanted to hate her, think of her as a stone-hearted bitch, so be it. She increased the voltage.

“What’ll it take for you to trust me. My name is Isaac Elliot. At aged thirteen I shoved myself into Arkham, not because some cop told me to, not because a court ordered me to, not because a shrink wanted me to, but because it was the safest hole I could find for the rest of those around me, for normal bastards. I could’ve kept that all up, could have kept killing people just from my appearance, but y’know what? I fucking made a sacrifice, right here,” he pointed, with his other hand, to his face. “And I lived with that choice. I wanted to walk, to talk to people. I wanted to get to be a normal part of society, not a guy killing his nurses just because they took a walk near him to hand some meds over to the asshole next door, not a guy killing psychiatrists who were just trying to fucking help. I do shit, like this, and I try to do it right. What the fuck would it take, lady, for you to trust me.”

"I'm sorry, believe me, I am. Maybe for me to trust you, I need you to trust me first." She increased the voltage again.

[Bycrest]

The Riddler

After sending Echo and Query out on their recruitment mission, Riddler set to going about the rest of his to-do list. He still needed a lot of materials to complete his latest project, and luckily most of them could be found right here in Gotham. It would be a trivial task to go on a crime spree to acquire the things he needed. Some of the first stops on Riddler's list was to recruit some henchmen from the Iceberg Lounge, he needed the muscle for the rest of what he had planned. As much as Oswald wanted to say he was a legitimate businessman now, everyone knew he still had his connections to the criminal underworld and that he had a few henchmen still on call.

Of course going to the Iceberg Lounge was a formal occasion and Riddler had respect for that. Oswald was probably one of the most experienced criminals in Gotham and he learned lessons that only age can teach. Edward decided to dress up his more formal green suit with the purple trim and classic green bowler hat, his cane still in hand as he got into his car and drove to the club. It pained Edward to have to rely on other for assistance but it was necessary step to achieving his ultimate plan. At the very least, Cobblepot was tolerable to converse with so this wouldn't be a completely horrible trip.

Edward arrived at the Iceberg Lounge and strode in, giving off the feeling that he didn't care to be there any longer than he had to. It was actually the contrary, Edward enjoyed the quaint charm and elegance of the Iceberg Lounge. It felt like it was the one place Edward might find an intellectual equal, although he knew that was very unlikely. As he looked around the Lounge, Edward spied the squat little man that claimed ownership of the establishment busy entertaining the masses that flocked to his establishment to act like they're someone more important than they actually are.

"Oswald," Edward said with fake enthusiasm, trying to make sure he stood out from the rest of the crowd "how have you been? It's been ages since our last get together. I've got a business proposal for you if you're willing to listen."

[The Frozen Forest]

White Seraph

Jack Hunter was not prepared for the situation that unfolded before him. Earlier he had gone through his normal rounds as the Church Custodian, cleaning floors and picking up what litter was left behind by the Churches few weekly goers. An event had been held recently, a charity event for a young woman diagnosed with a rare disease whose name he couldn't pronounce. It was horrible, what was happening in the world and even in his home city, Gotham. If he could solve it all, every issue it had with crime and violence, disease and corruption he would in a heartbeat. He left the Church early and had made his way down towards one of the local campuses. It was a normal route home for him, he preferred the walk.

The sound of squealing tires ahead of him was immediately alarming. His adrenaline shot forwards, filling him with an instinctual flight or fight. He watched as a car was overtaken by what appeared to be a horde of living animals. The sight of bizarre beyond words, living animals acting so coordinately, even animals that didn't have social structures were present, all mixed. Immediately the idea that any of that had a logical explanation vanished and was replaced by a sense of fear of the unknown. They burst through the hole in the wrecked vehicles

The sound of a gunshot sent enough alarm through him that he knew it would be unjust, wrong if he didn't react. By the time the second shot rang out he had turned into his angel form, White Seraph. On the third shot he had burst towards the car. His power of purification was the immediate solution. Gods light would have to cleanse the creatures or they would die, judging by the screams that hadn't happened yet. In a burst of white light a beam of light shot throughout the car, surrounding and enveloping the animal-wave. They immediately dropped from the form of a wave into an amalgamated mess of hissing and scratching and clawing as they sunk into the car. Intent to kill was purged, their bloodlust was replaced by fear he didn't understand. His wings naturally made it easy for him to disperse the number of animals, albeit leaving them with scrapes and bruises as they fled into the forest. He took a few steps forwards to assess the state of the girls, expecting the worst.

[Tamrida]

Dr. Byron Meredith/Merrymaker
Dr. Byron Meredith had just finished up his last meeting with his patients today, "Still no luck with recruitment," he says to himself as he writes down his secret notes, "however, some patients are showing signs of coming to, especially Mark and Bella." He puts his notes away and packs up his stuff before leaving the office. As he gets in the taxi that proceeds to return Dr. Meredith back to his house, he checks the time, 11:48 PM, and realizes how late it actually is. He had worked for some extra hours to press into the cracks some of his patients were showing, but without too much success. For a second he worries that he might have tried to hurry the process, but pushes the thought out of his head as unecissary paranoia. His mind is racing with the possibility of what is to come and he can't find himself feeling tired, despite the late hour. Midway through the taxi ride, Dr. Meredith decideds to go have some fun and tells his taxi driver to change their course to take him to the Iceburg Lounge. While an inconvenience, the driver does so, and after paying for the ride, entered into the Lounge for some gambling.

[United States of Brainy]

The Penguin

Oswald always had an appreciation for the tinkle of champagne glasses and the sight of well-dressed people enjoying themselves. And he had an even greater appreciation for the profit that could be made from that. How fortunate that the Iceberg Lounge afforded him the opportunity to indulge both. To him, the elegant nightclub was more than a business, it was home.

The lounge was crowded, even for a Thursday night. Dry martini in one gloved hand, he made his rounds, hobnobbing with the politicians, celebrities and members of Gotham’s high society that had the clout and the connections to get inside. After all, the Iceberg Lounge was neither a democracy nor a charity. In the end everyone paid and the person they paid was Oswald Cobblepot.

His eye drifted from the councilman he was conversing with (the man was tedious but he had his uses) to the gentleman that had just walked through the frosted glass entrance. Amidst a sea of designer suits and evening gowns, the man’s purple and green suit stood out like a sore thumb. Oswald could tell that the man had chosen his outfit to impress but he had failed miserably. He had found Oswald and was heading his way.

"Oswald," Edward said with fake enthusiasm, trying to make sure he stood out from the rest of the crowd "how have you been? It's been ages since our last get together. I've got a business proposal for you if you're willing to listen."

“Edward,” Oswald responded with equally fake enthusiasm. He thought about having the bouncers throw Nygma out but decided to be gracious and listen to what the puzzler had to say. He glanced at Lark, ever watchful in the corner, and led Edward to his office. Ensconcing himself in his leather recliner behind his desk, he offered his guest a seat just as Lark walked inside.

“Lark,” Cobblepot addressed his bodyguard and assistant, “be so kind as to take Mr. Nygma’s hat and cane and give us some privacy.” He glanced out the two-way mirror that fronted the dining room. “And we have a shipment arriving at the docks tomorrow night. See that the port commissioner gets a bottle of our best Scottish whiskey to go along with his prime rib.”

“Ya got it, boss,” Lark confirmed, taking Edward’s bowler and cane and quietly closing the door behind her.

“So, Edward,” the Penguin wanted to know, leaning in, eyes hardening, tell me about this business proposal.”

[Auphelia]

White Seraph

The sound of a gunshot sent enough alarm through him that he knew it would be unjust, wrong if he didn't react. By the time the second shot rang out he had turned into his angel form, White Seraph. On the third shot he had burst towards the car. His power of purification was the immediate solution. Gods light would have to cleanse the creatures or they would die, judging by the screams that hadn't happened yet. In a burst of white light a beam of light shot throughout the car, surrounding and enveloping the animal-wave. They immediately dropped from the form of a wave into an amalgamated mess of hissing and scratching and clawing as they sunk into the car. Intent to kill was purged, their bloodlust was replaced by fear he didn't understand. His wings naturally made it easy for him to disperse the number of animals, albeit leaving them with scrapes and bruises as they fled into the forest. He took a few steps forwards to assess the state of the girls, expecting the worst.

Sydney Moore

Sydney was hit with something, something she didn't know how to handle. All she knew was that one second she was screaming as baby mice bit her arm and the next she was on her back, staring at the hole in the side of the car. Mary was behind her and had shot the gun at the swarm, forcing it back. Sydney's mind cleared and suddenly she saw them, millions of numbers and graphs and lines, all different and beautiful, clear like drops of sweet mountain water. As she was marvelling at this addition to her vision, the swarm began to regroup. The animals descended with a vengeance and were about to ravage her when suddenly the car seemed to glow. It was as if the very air was bright and nice. A warm feeling filled Sydney, relaxing her. She felt . . . calm. The animals began to stagger and shake their heads, fighting. The larger animals began to run away, the rest seemingly paralysed with some sort of indecision. They shrieked and swirled but stopped attacking the girls, though several tried to. Just before they could hit it was like their swings purposefully missed. Still shocked, Mary was obviously in a much better state of mind than Sydney, and was already crawling out of the car. Once she was out the doors facing the sky she reached down to Sydney.

"C'mon Sydney! Hurry!" Her friend had the same cuts of glass, the same stings and bites, and yet it only seemed to make her more brave. Mary was so confident. She was so nice. These animals seemed so nice. This was . . .

Sydney was interrupted by her friend reaching down to grab her hair and forcibly yank her into a standing position. Immediately snapping out of the ooey-gooey good feels funk, she remembered just how much danger they were in, her adrenaline pumping with a roar in her ears. She clambered out, careful to avoid most of the broken glass, though at this point she was hard pressed to find a point on her body that wasn't bloody or bruised. Standing on the top of the car she saw a man with giant wings heading towards them. The glow faded and she noticed most of the animals were gone, except now they reformed just out of sight. She could sense them, the numbers documenting their movements and likely attacks. It was like she could see everything.

Mary stood next to her and levelled the shotgun at the winged man, shouting at him, "Go away! Stay back!". Sydney could sense her friend was nervous, see how her blood pressure rose. She had to protect her and her friend. And then . . . she saw it. The jumble went away as she focused on one single course of action. As though it were pencilled in the air, in thread-thin, elaborate notation, she could see the geometry and the numbers unfolding across the world around her, through the air. She withdrew a pen from her pocket, spun it around one finger. The notation billowed around it, and through it, she could see the movement of the pen, the plotted trajectory, the velocity and rotation of it. The numbers clicked into place with a speed that made the rest of her, her very perceptions, seem like slow motion. With a practised motion she threw the pen, accounting for every variable. It went right for his midsection, not to kill but certainly to hinder. She didn't know who was responsible for these animals, but she wasn't going to take chances. She saw the swarm charge again, barrelling towards her. She grabbed Mary and jumped off of the car, the numbers guiding her movements. A foot here, a jump there, all kept them one step ahead of the swarm. Mary had somehow kept a grip on her gun, and was swinging it with one hand as Sydney pulled her along. They flew up the steps to the library, just as the swarm stabbed forward like a fork of lighting.

Sydney was already moving, the mathematical notation filling her field of vision, singing in her ears, running along her skin. She could taste it, virtually swam in a clear, precise, organised outline of the world around her. Her weight shifted as she found her centre of balance and ran up the wall putting every foot just where it needed to be to keep climbing. Flinging Mary into the shattered window now below her, out of sight for now, she kicked out to push herself to the left, flipping her body around and preparing her muscles just the right amount to land. The swarm moved forward unerringly, not caring for their own physical safety. Brick and mortar were obliterated along with bone and flesh, and the blow knocked in the part of the wall where Sydney had been moments before.

She was airborne. She’d measured the trajectory of the first hit as it blasted through the wall, letting it slide past her by a mere hair's breadth. She angled and oriented her body to absorb the rush of wind and dust, used it to carry herself just a little further, a little higher. Her shoes scraped as they found traction on the front stairs of the library. She couldn't believe what she had just done, but there was no time to think of that now. There was only time to act. She chanced one glance at the swarm, re-configuring itself after pulverising itself to knock down a brick wall.

Without giving them another chance to recuperate she ran into the building, which was a horror movie in itself. She looked around and saw the numbers swirl around her, unguided by direction. Almost before it happened her power noticed a shift and she found herself stepping to the side and kicking a dog in the eye, sending it flying in a perfect arc across the marble floors. She looked around and found that Mary was crouched under a table just ahead of her, in a big aisle in the middle, clutching her gun so hard that Sydney could see the white of her knuckles from where she was. They locked eyes and Sydney began to run towards her friend, dodging every attack as well as she could. She twisted and dodged, swinging her arms and legs, moving with fluid motions like some sort of . . . hero. She turned books into deadly projectiles and even let a cat scratch her to use the spray of blood to blind a fox that was leaping at her. She was a hurricane. She was life and death, doling it out like there was no tommorrow. None of this made any sense, but one thought kept repeating in her mind as she let herself drift away from the carnage.

She had superpowers.

Suddenly the thoughts came to a halt, and she found herself in the middle of semi-quiet. Somehow there were bookshelves and tables piled perfectly in place to block what could only be the pounding of the animal swarm, two men and two women standing in the aisles, and Mary at her side, pointing her gun at the figures.

She looked down and saw a pair of scissors and a sharpened pencil in her hands, noticing the empty pencil and pen holders around her and all of the animal corpses around her with pencils and pens sticking out of them. Had she done this? Has she . . .

She threw up on a raccoon carcass.

---

The Queen

One second everything had been going according to plan and the next some young woman was cutting though her animals like it was nothing. Down they went. She flung books like cannonballs and pencils like darts. She somehow sensed the attacks of the animals before they even came. She kicked and spun like a whirling dervish, not resting, keeping herself and her little companion with the gun safe. She had even utilised the force of the wave of animals to get a barricade of bookshelves and desks in place. This girl was like nothing she had ever seen, and she could quite honestly say she would be flattered to be compared to the girl. The fluidity of her motions, the way she knew just what to do, it was perfection.

Of course, she couldn't have the girl attacking them right off so with a small flex of her power she caused the girl to hurl and her friend's hands to spasm and drop the rifle.

She then stepped carefully around the convulsing form of the villain Batgirl had and stood next to the mini caped crusader.

"Excuse me, but what was that?"

It would be best to play innocent until she could find out if Batgirl knew anything.

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

As a general rule, Babs didn’t use profanity and looked down upon people who did but what…the…%$#@?!! One moment, she had Mr. Hoodie tased and the next moment two college girls were crashing through the windows ahead of the animal horde, shotgun blasting and throwing pens and pencils at the onslaught of foxes and cats and pigeons and whatever other urban wildlife had been conscripted into the Queen’s army!

Shotgun blasting mama was jaw-dropping enough but Neo/Matrix girl was just plain ridiculous! She ducked and weaved and dodged, flinging office supplies like deadly missiles! In between all the mayhem, she even had time to barricade the doors with a neat stack of tables! How she managed that, Babs had no idea even though she had just witnessed it with her own eyes.

A disquieting silence descended but the crimefighter knew it was only momentary, the eye of the hurricane, before the next wave of rabid animals was upon them. Now, Babs found herself in a tense stand-off as shotgun lady had the business end of her boom stick pointed at her. Out of view, she slowly reached for another Batarang. And then shotgun lady got a sudden case of butterfingers and Matrix girl vomited on a raccoon.

Yeahhhh…it was that kinda night.

"Excuse me, but what was that?"

You’re asking the wrong person there, Babs wanted to say to Ms. Bingum, mentally throwing up her hands in exasperation. Instead, she just politely ignored the diva’s question. Somehow, she managed to maintain her level-headed outward demeanor. Despite their superheroic performance, the college girls were obviously rookies, the shock of the carnage around them finally catching up to them.

“Okay,” Gotham’s dark knightress declared, taking charge. “You. You.” She pointed at each of the girls. “Help me pick THIS guy up,” she jabbed a finger at Mr. Hoodie, “and help me get him to the basement. This isn’t over yet and that barricade of yours won’t hold off those animals for long.” She collected the girl’s shotgun and Hoodie’s handgun, ejected the magazine and shells, handed the empty guns and ammos to Bingum. “If you don’t mind,” she told the Broadway diva. “And oh,” she added, addressing the girls, “the guy has a skull for a face, well, half-a-face. Try not to freak out, ‘kay?”

Once in the basement, Batgirl handed a pair of flex-cuffs to the blonde-headed girl. “Tie his wrists and ankles, hands behind his back,” she instructed. They were in the basement, behind concrete walls and padlocked steel doors. They were safe for the moment. All of them. The two college girls. Mr. Hoodie, lying bound on the floor. Ms. Bingum and Prof. D’Arte. The girls had made a sizable dent in the mass of animals after them but no telling how many were still roaming the library and university grounds. She had to end this. Now.

And she had the perfect secret weapon to do it. Ever since The Queen’s last attack, the Disciples knew they needed to develop an effective countermeasure against The Queen’s powers. And they had.

The caped crimefighter pulled out her smartphone. “I appreciate what you did back there,” she nodded at the two girls and the hooded man on the ground, but the first lesson you need to learn in crimefighting is fight smarter, not harder.”

[Auphelia]

Batgirl

“Okay,” Gotham’s dark knightress declared, taking charge. “You. You.” She pointed at each of the girls. “Help me pick THIS guy up,” she jabbed a finger at Mr. Hoodie, “and help me get him to the basement. This isn’t over yet and that barricade of yours won’t hold off those animals for long.” She collected the girl’s shotgun and Hoodie’s handgun, ejected the magazine and shells, handed the empty guns and ammos to Bingum. “If you don’t mind,” she told the Broadway diva. “And oh,” she added, addressing the girls, “the guy has a skull for a face, well, half-a-face. Try not to freak out, ‘kay?”

Once in the basement, Batgirl handed a pair of flex-cuffs to the blonde-headed girl. “Tie his wrists and ankles, hands behind his back,” she instructed. They were in the basement, behind concrete walls and padlocked steel doors. They were safe for the moment. All of them. The two college girls. Mr. Hoodie, lying bound on the floor. Ms. Bingum and Prof. D’Arte. The girls had made a sizable dent in the mass of animals after them but no telling how many were still roaming the library and university grounds. She had to end this. Now.

And she had the perfect secret weapon to do it. Ever since The Queen’s last attack, the Disciples knew they needed to develop an effective countermeasure against The Queen’s powers. And they had.

The caped crimefighter pulled out her smartphone. “I appreciate what you did back there,” she nodded at the two girls and the hooded man on the ground, but the first lesson you need to learn in crimefighting is fight smarter, not harder.”

Mary Liu

She didn't quite know what was happening.

She was in the car. Then Sydney was climbing walls with her feet. Next things she knew she was thrown into the library and running for her life while Sydney became a machine, turning everyday items into weapons of destruction. She seemed . . . in control, the opposite of what she normally was. She didn't know much, but she realised there was something Sydney hadn't told her.

She hefted her shotgun and stood by as she watched Sydney flip the man over, cuff him, and spin him around all in one fluid motion. She wasn't sure what was happening, but she didn't like it. Not one bit. Still, it was probably best to stay focused. She always was good at focusing.

She kept her gun ready as Sydney stared into the distance, her eyes blurred and yet laser focused all at once.

Freaky.

---

Sydney Moore

She saw the numbers, the beautiful, beautiful numbers. She could feel her mind changing, warping itself to fit this new power. She knew how to stop it, could give a step-by-step plan to fix and reverse it. To get herself back to normal. But she didn't want that. She accepted the numbers. She saw what she had done, saving herself and Mary. She had weathered . . . even thrived in an attack of animals gone civilised. She had to keep this. Her emotions became muted, making way for numbers. She knew how to respond and could feel, but it was like hearing something underwater, muddled and blurry. She was better now.

She could see the movement of everything, air currents and heart rates, the weak points in armour and bones. She saw Batgirl and realised that if she wanted to, she could shatter her skull like glass with a flick in the right place. She could imagine it, the crack, and how the sound waves would radiate outwards.

She snapped out of it, and everything came back. She was here, she was present, and these numbers didn't control her. She was Sydney Moore, and she was going to be just fine. She was vaguely aware of something Batgirl said, but she was too busy trying to get the imagined sound of a cracking skull out of her head.

---

The Queen

She stood there, holding shotgun shells, looking doubtfully at the metal door between them and her swarm. It always helped to play a part convincingly. There was a gap under and above the doors, not even big enough for a mouse but certainly enough for an insect. She began to pull in a thread of her swarm, several hundred butterflies, some wasps, cockroaches, flies, and ants. In less than a minute there was a figure, almost two metres tall, in a vaguely humanoid shape. It had a dress made of blue and black butterflies, a living dress of wonder. The body was black, made up of various insects. Jewel beetles made the eyes, and the hair was a cascade of golden butterflies. It was strangely beautiful, a form she knew well.

The swarm decoy began to speak, the insects buzzing to create sounds that strung together to make words. It had taken months of practice, but she found she could even sing with insects if she wanted to. It was a beautiful thing.

Hello, petty fools! Do you know why we have come here today? No? Of course you don't. I have come to show you that you cannot hide from me! Batgirl, you can never live up to Batman or his legacy.Professor, you are a fool. The path you walk down will lead you to ruin. Girl with the gun, you are outmatched here.Everyone here is better than you. Ruth Bingum, you may be a mere mortal,but I would be proud to one day have you as my court musician.Crazed pencil girl, do not feel confident yet. You may have some fancy tricks, but mysubjects are your betters. We will get you eventually. As for the other, , he truly is nothing. I would kill him to make a point, but why waste the energy? Batgirl, surrender now or suffer my wrath. No more will die here today, but I want to know I beat you before I relent. I know what you are planning, and it will fail. You will all fail.

She wasn't quite sure about her last point, but the Bat was acting far too confident, talking about "smarter not harder". She would end this soon. Batgirl may be a masked vigilante, but she was a mere mortal whereas The Queen was practically a goddess!

[United States of Brainy]

Lark

After handing in Nygma's bowler and cane to the check-in girl, Lark returned to the main dining room when she spotted a certain someone that brought a smile to her face. Well, if it isn't Merrymaker himself. Of course she knew his secret identity. As Oswald's number two, she was privy to a lot of secret stuff. Not all his secrets. She wasn't naive or arrogant enough to believe that. Just enough to do her job. To get Ozzie what he wanted. And what he wanted was Merrymaker in his pocket.

Dr. Meredith was heading to the gaming tables. Perfect. As the evil psychiatrist took a seat, Lark slid in behind the dealer and whispered in his ear. A moment later, Rudy, the dealer, slid a stack of chips to the good doctor, refusing the two crisp one-hundred dollar bills that had been laid on the table. "On the house, Dr. Meredith," Rudy smiled. "Compliments of Mr. Cobblepot. And don't worry, your credit's good here." Winking at Byron, Lark walked off.

Returning to her perch in her corner, Lark spoke into the tiny mic pinned to her lapel. "String him along." Her voice rang crystal clear in Rudy's earbud. "Let him win early and then make sure he loses. BIG."

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

Hello, petty fools! Do you know why we have come here today? No? Of course you don't. I have come to show you that you cannot hide from me! Batgirl, you can never live up to Batman or his legacy.Professor, you are a fool. The path you walk down will lead you to ruin. Girl with the gun, you are outmatched here.Everyone here is better than you. Ruth Bingum, you may be a mere mortal,but I would be proud to one day have you as my court musician.Crazed pencil girl, do not feel confident yet. You may have some fancy tricks, but mysubjects are your betters. We will get you eventually. As for the other, , he truly is nothing. I would kill him to make a point, but why waste the energy? Batgirl, surrender now or suffer my wrath. No more will die here today, but I want to know I beat you before I relent. I know what you are planning, and it will fail. You will all fail.

Sigh. It was always the same. Surrender or die, blah blah blah. The Queen or rather her insectoid avatar had left her no choice.

“Okay, you win,” she announced. “Just gimme a sec.” She handed her phone to Crazed Pencil Girl. “When I tell you, press this button,” she whispered to the girl. On her smartphone screen was a single red button icon. To Girl Without a Gun, she said, “see that fire extinguisher on the wall. When your friend presses the button, get it and start using it.”

Babs turned back to the chitinous floating form. Her hands raised and outstretched, she slowly started forward. “Okay, I surrender. But how do I know that you’ll keep your part of the bargain. I think it’s only fair that you let these people go…right…NOW! DO IT!”

If everything went to plan and the girl pressed the button, an ultrasonic signal would be broadcast from her phone. A signal specifically designed to disrupt the equilibrium of most animals, insects included. In effect, making them disoriented and groggy.” After that, hopefully GWaG would be smart enough to start using the fire extinguisher to start foaming down the startled insects.

[Bycrest]

The Penguin

Oswald always had an appreciation for the tinkle of champagne glasses and the sight of well-dressed people enjoying themselves. And he had an even greater appreciation for the profit that could be made from that. How fortunate that the Iceberg Lounge afforded him the opportunity to indulge both. To him, the elegant nightclub was more than a business, it was home.

The lounge was crowded, even for a Thursday night. Dry martini in one gloved hand, he made his rounds, hobnobbing with the politicians, celebrities and members of Gotham’s high society that had the clout and the connections to get inside. After all, the Iceberg Lounge was neither a democracy nor a charity. In the end everyone paid and the person they paid was Oswald Cobblepot.

His eye drifted from the councilman he was conversing with (the man was tedious but he had his uses) to the gentleman that had just walked through the frosted glass entrance. Amidst a sea of designer suits and evening gowns, the man’s purple and green suit stood out like a sore thumb. Oswald could tell that the man had chosen his outfit to impress but he had failed miserably. He had found Oswald and was heading his way.

"Oswald," Edward said with fake enthusiasm, trying to make sure he stood out from the rest of the crowd "how have you been? It's been ages since our last get together. I've got a business proposal for you if you're willing to listen."

“Edward,” Oswald responded with equally fake enthusiasm. He thought about having the bouncers throw Nygma out but decided to be gracious and listen to what the puzzler had to say. He glanced at Lark, ever watchful in the corner, and led Edward to his office. Ensconcing himself in his leather recliner behind his desk, he offered his guest a seat just as Lark walked inside.

“Lark,” Cobblepot addressed his bodyguard and assistant, “be so kind as to take Mr. Nygma’s hat and cane and give us some privacy.” He glanced out the two-way mirror that fronted the dining room. “And we have a shipment arriving at the docks tomorrow night. See that the port commissioner gets a bottle of our best Scottish whiskey to go along with his prime rib.”

“Ya got it, boss,” Lark confirmed, taking Edward’s bowler and cane and quietly closing the door behind her.

“So, Edward,” the Penguin wanted to know, leaning in, eyes hardening, "tell me about this business proposal.”

Riddler

Edward took his seat after handing over his hat and cane, also making a mental note to invest in hat bombs for distraction uses in occasions like this. He turned back to Penguin so he could get on with his business and then back to the rest of the tasks that needed competition.

"Ah yes, the business proposal. I am currently in the planning phase my next genius master plan. As you know, with the Joker gone, there has been something lacking within the criminal underbelly. A face to represent our 'organization' as a whole. No one dared to try to be an up-and-coming hero when Joker was around, not unless they were already in league with Batman. Now we have a bunch of superpowered freaks coming in and claiming to Gotham's latest batch of protectors. I simply can't stand for this anymore, how are we supposed to compete now that we have to worry about someone similar to SUPERMAN busting into our hideouts!" Edward yelled as he stood up and started pacing the room. His frustration at the situation was evident but then he took a moment to calm himself in order to be professional.

"What we need, more than anything right now, is another Joker. Now obviously no one near as psychotic as that clown, but someone who can take Gotham by storm and make them afraid of us again. As much as I would love to volunteer for the position, it just isn't nearly as fun without Batman around to fail miserably at my puzzles." Edward said, completely blocking out the fact that Batman always solves his puzzle, sometimes in record speed.

"All I ask from you, Oswald, is some men and weapons, just to get the dirty work done. Any money we make from doing this can be split so evenly it would make Dent jealous. All I care about is getting our names back out there and making people fear us again. Now of course, none of these crimes will be traced back to you. You know I'm good at pulling off the perfect crime and with what I have planned, no one would even look in your direction."

Riddler had try to make this pitch sound as convincing as possible, and none of it was a lie. Right now, he need allies and people that could help him more than anything. Once he got further in his plan, he could possibly dispose of them if they were no longer usable. Edward outstrech his hand to see if Penguin would agree to this deal, he could stand to gain a lot from this deal and it would cost him almost nothing.

"So, do we have a deal?"

[Tamrida]

Lark

After handing in Nygma's bowler and cane to the check-in girl, Lark returned to the main dining room when she spotted a certain someone that brought a smile to her face. Well, if it isn't Merrymaker himself. Of course she knew his secret identity. As Oswald's number two, she was privy to a lot of secret stuff. Not all his secrets. She wasn't naive or arrogant enough to believe that. Just enough to do her job. To get Ozzie what he wanted. And what he wanted was Merrymaker in his pocket.

Dr. Meredith was heading to the gaming tables. Perfect. As the evil psychiatrist took a seat, Lark slid in behind the dealer and whispered in his ear. A moment later, Rudy, the dealer, slid a stack of chips to the good doctor, refusing the two crisp one-hundred dollar bills that had been laid on the table. "On the house, Dr. Meredith," Rudy smiled. "Compliments of Mr. Cobblepot. And don't worry, your credit's good here." Winking at Byron, Lark walked off.

Returning to her perch in her corner, Lark spoke into the tiny mic pinned to her lapel. "String him along." Her voice rang crystal clear in Rudy's earbud. "Let him win early and then make sure he loses. BIG."

Dr. Byron Meredith/Merrymaker
Dr. Byron Meredith had a smile creep up his face. He knew what their plan was, make him feel all wonderful and welcome and make him the big winner before pulling it away from him. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book for pshycological manipulation, and the not so subtle actions, such as Lark suddenly appearing an whispering in the dealer's ear and then suddenly credit was enough for him to gamble with. "They are probably trying to get me to become indebted to them," he thought to himself, "I see their game, and will play along for now, I am interested in seeing what the old bird has got for me." With that decided, he repocketed his two hundred dollars and started to play the game of poker. Dr. Meredith loved gambling games, he loved the psychological aspect of it, and then manipulating it for his own gains. A few games passed, with him gaining and loosing a bit, but mostly gaining, when he was suddenly dealed out a Royal Flush. He smiled again and gave a chuckle that was loud enough for the other players at the table to hear. He went all in. He started to scan the other players, making steely eye contact with every single one of them. One man folded on the spot, most of the others did so latter, however, one player put all of his chips in as well. "I call your bluff" he said. Grinning the one man revealed his hand, a Straight Flush. He received a few small claps and praises, but then the doctor revealed his hand. The Royal Flush beat his Straight Flush and the man, in shock, stormed off in anger while Dr. Byron Meredith raked in the large pot. "It is all downhill from here" he thought, and downhill it did go. He started to receive horrible hands that he could never win with and was always losing games. He kept going until he lost most of the chips he won, winding it down to a small enough amount that he could carry them around easily. He knew that it was time for him to go when his hand was worth absolutely nothing and other people started going all in. He folded early and when that round was over and it was revealed that the winner had a Royal Flush he said "Well ladies and gentlemen, it appears that my luck has steadily run out, so I should quit while I am ahead." He pocketed his chips and flipped one hundred dollar one to the dealer who caught it and put it in his own pocket as Dr. Meredith moved out into the rest of the Lounge.

Dr. Byron Meredith clashed with the up scale patrons, with him in less classy outfits and a lab coat. However, most people know him from his occasional visits as a high gambler, a high payer, and a high tipper, so he was as much a part of the high end clientele as far as money went, and he had just won two thousand two hundred and five dollars to burn. He manevored his way to the bar and placed down one thousand dollars worth of chips in front of the bartender, "Put people's drinks on this amount until it runs out, and tell them that Dr. Meredith wants them to make merry." The bar tender nodded and took the chips under the counter. A few patrons who were nearby heated this and came over and ordered some drinks and thanked him for doing so. The doctor quickly moved though the crowd on a mission to find Lark, the Henchwoman who tried to psychologically out maneuver him, a big mistake on her part. Although he knew that she wouldn't do that unless the Penguin wanted her to, and a possible job offer from the Penguin was something that intreagued him. He found her at the station she is almost always at and said to her in a hushed tone "I know what game you were trying to play back there, simple psychological tricks don't works so well on a psychiatrist, although I know why you did it. So I want to ask what job does the esteemed Mr. Cobblepot have for me?"

[Auphelia]

Batgirl

Sigh. It was always the same. Surrender or die, blah blah blah. The Queen or rather her insectoid avatar had left her no choice.

“Okay, you win,” she announced. “Just gimme a sec.” She handed her phone to Crazed Pencil Girl. “When I tell you, press this button,” she whispered to the girl. On her smartphone screen was a single red button icon. To Girl Without a Gun, she said, “see that fire extinguisher on the wall. When your friend presses the button, get it and start using it.”

Babs turned back to the chitinous floating form. Her hands raised and outstretched, she slowly started forward. “Okay, I surrender. But how do I know that you’ll keep your part of the bargain. I think it’s only fair that you let these people go…right…NOW! DO IT!”

If everything went to plan and the girl pressed the button, an ultrasonic signal would be broadcast from her phone. A signal specifically designed to disrupt the equilibrium of most animals, insects included. In effect, making them disoriented and groggy.” After that, hopefully GWaG would be smart enough to start using the fire extinguisher to start foaming down the startled insects.

Sydney Moore

She stared at the phone Batgirl had given her, shocked that she was allowed to press the button. She wasn't quite sure what it would do, but it must be important if she had to whisper while The Queen was in the room. She tried to concentrate to know when to press the button, but more notation spun around her like spider webs - no, best not to think of spiders right now - making her dizzy again. Ugh. She hoped she wouldn't be sick again, having already embarrassed herself enough in front of the heroine. Great, now she was a nervous wreck, imagining all of the ways she could fail. Trajectories and equations swarmed, now not even in the moment but predicting what might happen and extrapolating from there. There was also the small matter of her being a freak.

Wait. Batgirl had just shouted something. Sydney could see the vibrations in the air, and looked down to the button. She was supposed to press this, right? Or had she called off the plan!? Oh, this was bad. Then, something amazing happened.

In her moment of indecision, Mary sprang forth like one of the wild beasts that had been attacking them. She was like a miniature blizzard, spraying foam and screaming incoherently, releasing the frustration and fear of the past who knows how long squarely on the head of the Queen. The white foam was coating insects and causing them to die. The Queen began to scream as well, in pain and fear. Her swarm shifted and moved, but they couldn't escape Mary. As The Queen writhed under the furious assault, she wailed like a banshee on the moors.

"No! NO! How did you know I wasn't human . . . . Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo . . ."

As the bugs were vanquished, the voice became quieter. The end of the foam spray didn't deter Mary, and she simply flipped it around and started using it as a club, wildly swinging at anything that moved. She was still screaming, her face red and beaded with sweat. Once there was nothing more to attack, Mary fell to her knees, her hair plastered to her face and covered in a fine coating of foam. Her panting echoed in the silence of the room.

Silence.

The constant clamour of the past half hour was gone, leaving a vacuum in its place. In the car, fighting her way into the library, creating the barricade, the rush to the basement while fending off a swarm of enraged lab rats and chimpanzees, all gone. Silence was the only thing left.

Sydney looked down and realised that while she had been watching with fascination as her friend killed The Queen, the phone Batgirl had handed her had slipped from her hands. She saw in on the ground, the screen shattered and black. It was ruined, just like her, broken by the night.

"Is it . . . is it over?" she wondered out loud, her voice thin, feeling empty and small in the face of this deafening silence. "Are we safe now?"

---

Ruth Bingum

She looked at the blonde girl, surprised at how she could go from trained assassin ninja warrior to nervous little girl at the drop of a hat. Between her and the crazed fire extinguisher wielding maniac she had come into the library with, she had to wonder who exactly the University was accepting nowadays. She thought there was some sort of psychological evaluation to prevent creating Scarecrow and Riddler situations again, but perhaps it needed to be upgraded. No, she needed to focus. Today was a draw, to be sure, but she still had work to do to remove any suspicion. A well placed comment here and there could help the proper conclusions be drawn.

"It's quite obvious dear, is it not? Your friend here just killed The Queen, Gotham's deadliest and most powerful villain, with a fire extinguisher," she said, her voice a mix of shock and surety. She was certainly grateful for her experience on the stage to sell the line. "I would congratulate her, but I don't think she is quite calm yet."

It was as good a cover as any, a split decision she had to make. She hadn't liked how confident Batgirl seemed, especially when she handed the phone to the blonde. She obviously had some sort of countermeasure in place to do something to render her powers either useless or less effective. It would be best to find out what it was and work on countering it before she attacked again. If there was anything she hated more than off-key singing, it was being defeated. She would come back on her own terms. Now all she had to do was get close to Batgirl.

[United States of Brainy]

Penguin

Riddler had try to make this pitch sound as convincing as possible, and none of it was a lie. Right now, he need allies and people that could help him more than anything. Once he got further in his plan, he could possibly dispose of them if they were no longer usable. Edward outstrech his hand to see if Penguin would agree to this deal, he could stand to gain a lot from this deal and it would cost him almost nothing.

"So, do we have a deal?"

Oswald looked down at the outstretched hand as if it were a dead fish, made no move to shake it. Leaning back in his chair, he lit his cigarette holder, took a long drag and said nothing. After a long, tense moment, he spoke.

“Some men and weapons,” he parroted Edward’s words, chuckling, “that’s all I ask of you. So…if I am to understand correctly, you wish me to provide you with my men, my weapons, all in exchange for the vague promise of money at some undetermined future date. To install you as the new crime king of Gotham. Don’t play me for a fool, that’s what you really want. And, oh yes, getting our names back and making people fear us again? That’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

Oswald eyed the Riddler coolly.

“I will have you know, sir, that the name of The Penguin has always been feared and respected. It is your reputation that is in need of rehabilitation, not mine. You would do well not to conflate the two.”

Oswald took another puff of his cigarette.

“As to your claim that the Joker’s absence has made things worse for our sort, I contend, in fact, that they’ve made things better. Or have you forgotten that our merry prankster attracted the Bat. Like a moth to the flame. No Joker, no Batman. Only his brats to deal with now. Supermen I can handle.” Oswald tapped his forehead. “You, of all people, should know that it isn’t steely muscles but the steely mind that one needs to worry about. And Edward, no one is’ busting’ into my hideouts.”

He looked at Edward.

“You know why? Because I don’t make a spectacle of myself. Nothing against you, my dear Riddler. No slight intended. I like to think we’re friends, Edward, but this is business. And to put it bluntly, you’re a bad risk.”

Something caught Oswald’s eye through the mirror.

“Now…take that fellow. The one in the tacky suit and lab coat. Recognize him? The poor wardrobe choices, like your own, give you a clue? Yes, Edward, he shares the same criminal ‘proclivities’ as you. Except…he takes a losing hand and comes out a winner.

Oswald watched the man in the lab coat. First to the bar and then as he walked up to Lark.

“Excuse me, Edward.” Oswald picked up the telephone on his desk. “Lark, would you be so kind as to bring Dr. Meredith to my office.”

Penguin turned back to the man in the green suit in front of him.

“Now…Edward. I have a proposition. For the both of you.”

Oswald took another puff of his cigarette and waited for Dr. Meredith to join them

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

Well…that didn’t go exactly to plan.

Babs knelt down and put a comforting arm around the sobbing Mary. “It’s okay, it’s all over, you’re alright,” she soothed. Babs should have known better. The girls weren’t hardened crimefighters like herself. They were just ordinary civilians with extraordinary powers, placed in a harrowing situation. She should have expected them to crack.

Gently lifting the girl up, she walked her back to her friend. “Here,” she told Sydney, handing Mary over to her.

"Is it . . . is it over?" she wondered out loud, her voice thin, feeling empty and small in the face of this deafening silence. "Are we safe now?"

“Yes, we’re safe,” Babs confirmed. And they were. Silence had settled on the library and, even in the basement, Babs could tell that the threat had passed. “Question is, how are you?” Babs studied the blonde. Could tell that she was shellshocked. “You did good,” she reassured her, just in case she was feeling guilty about dropping the phone.

And speaking of her phone…

Her phone, or more accurately, the shattered remnants of her phone, lay on the tiled floor like a bad traffic accident. The girl hadn’t just dropped it, she had smashed it. Quite a throw there, Babs remarked drily to herself. It would have taken considerable force to break her phone like that. Almost, as if the girl had done it…deliberately. Babs quickly dismissed the thought. Ridiculous.
The crimefighter wasn’t too worried. She could easily pick up a spare phone once she got back home. Until then, she would be out of contact with the other Disciples but, at least for the moment, things were calm.

Quickly, she checked on everyone else. Mr. Hoodie was still unconscious, safely trussed up on the floor. Babs felt a twinge of pity for him. He meant well but she had seen a bloodlust in his face, when he had offered to stay behind and deal with the animals, that Babs simply couldn’t ignore. She just hoped that the doctors at Arkham would be able to help him.

As for Dr. Death, ahem, Prof. D’Arte. He had been strangely silent throughout this entire episode. Probably compiling a list of complaints to take to the Dean, Babs snorted to herself. And, of course, Ms. Bingum was holding up admirably. Barbara expected no less of the diva and the great dame hadn’t disappointed her.

Using the phone in the basement office, Babs called for police and EMT. “The police will be here in a couple minutes,” she told Syd and Mary. “Don’t worry, I’ll pretty sure the surveillance cameras got smashed during the attack,” she explained, giving the girls a sly glance. “Your secret is safe with me.” Babs made a note to not only erase any footage but to hack into the police report later just so she could get an ID on the two girls. It might be wise to keep a tab on these two, Batgirl figured.

Finally, the vigilante walked back to Ruth Bingum.

“Ms. Bingum,” Babs stated, “I just wanted to thank you for all your assistance tonight. I don’t think things would have turned out so well if it hadn’t been for your help. I just wanted to tell you that.”

She was about to leave it at that when she had a sudden revelation.

“Ms. Bingum, I just realized something. That first attack. With the insects. That was a localized attack.” Batgirl forgot herself and quickly explained. “The librarian, Ms. Gordon, filled me in when she called for help. Let’s just say we have a ‘working’ relationship, I’ve helped her in the past. Ms. Gordon’s safe by the way, I left her in her office, if you were wondering.”

Babs paused for a second, intently studying the singer for a reaction. Whether her hurried explanation had caused any suspicion.

“But getting back to that first attack, the question is why. Why would the Queen be interested in something like that? I mean, it was just the hooded stranger, the librarian, the professor and…you.

The crimefighter studied the diva intently and then her eyes widened.

“The Queen…IT'S YOU!”

It took Batgirl several moments before she could speak again.

“The Queen. She’s after you! Of course! The comment about making you her court musician. She’s fixated on you for some reason,” Babs explained, the words flowing from her lips. “She has a mania for royalty and you are, after all, the Queen of Broadway, Ms. Bingum. Could it have something to do with your upcoming role?”

Babs pondered this for a second before coming to a decision.

“Ms. Bingum, with your permission, I think I’d better accompany you back home. To make sure the Queen doesn’t have an ambush waiting. Would that be alright?”

A new phone could wait. Batgirl, first, had to make sure that Ruth Bingum was safe. That was her number one priority at the moment.

[Tamrida]

“Now…take that fellow. The one in the tacky suit and lab coat. Recognize him? The poor wardrobe choices, like your own, give you a clue? Yes, Edward, he shares the same criminal ‘proclivities’ as you. Except…he takes a losing hand and comes out a winner.

Oswald watched the man in the lab coat. First to the bar and then as he walked up to Lark.

“Excuse me, Edward.” Oswald picked up the telephone on his desk. “Lark, would you be so kind as to bring Dr. Meredith to my office.”

Penguin turned back to the man in the green suit in front of him.

“Now…Edward. I have a proposition. For the both of you.”

Oswald took another puff of his cigarette and waited for Dr. Meredith to join them

Dr. Byron Meredith/Merrymaker
Lark didn't respond to his question but rather turned to listen to something on her earpiece before turning to go, motioning for him to follow. He did so and was brought to the Penguin's office. "So the Penguin does need my employment, this should be interesting" he thought to himself. She entered into the room , holding the door open for him to enter. He did so and saw not just the Penguin but the Riddler as well. "Thank you Ms. Lark" he says to her as he slipped her two hundred dollars worth of poker chips before walking further into the room. "So, Mr. Cobblepot, what do you need me for?"

[Auphelia]

Batgirl

And, of course, Ms. Bingum was holding up admirably. Barbara expected no less of the diva and the great dame hadn’t disappointed her.

Finally, the vigilante walked back to Ruth Bingum.

“Ms. Bingum,” Babs stated, “I just wanted to thank you for all your assistance tonight. I don’t think things would have turned out so well if it hadn’t been for your help. I just wanted to tell you that.”

She was about to leave it at that when she had a sudden revelation.

“Ms. Bingum, I just realized something. That first attack. With the insects. That was a localized attack.” Batgirl forgot herself and quickly explained. “The librarian, Ms. Gordon, filled me in when she called for help. Let’s just say we have a ‘working’ relationship, I’ve helped her in the past. Ms. Gordon’s safe by the way, I left her in her office, if you were wondering.”

Babs paused for a second, intently studying the singer for a reaction. Whether her hurried explanation had caused any suspicion.

“But getting back to that first attack, the question is why. Why would the Queen be interested in something like that? I mean, it was just the hooded stranger, the librarian, the professor and…you.

The crimefighter studied the diva intently and then her eyes widened.

“The Queen…IT'S YOU!”

It took Batgirl several moments before she could speak again.

“The Queen. She’s after you! Of course! The comment about making you her court musician. She’s fixated on you for some reason,” Babs explained, the words flowing from her lips. “She has a mania for royalty and you are, after all, the Queen of Broadway, Ms. Bingum. Could it have something to do with your upcoming role?”

Babs pondered this for a second before coming to a decision.

“Ms. Bingum, with your permission, I think I’d better accompany you back home. To make sure the Queen doesn’t have an ambush waiting. Would that be alright?”

A new phone could wait. Batgirl, first, had to make sure that Ruth Bingum was safe. That was her number one priority at the moment.

Ruth Bingum

Well, this certainly was something! First she was being thanked for helping defend against her own attack, and then she was suspected of being the target of . . . herself! It was almost laughable, if she hadn't nearly died from shock that Batgirl almost knew her identity, but her position as a victim provided benefits. If she could know about what Batgirl was doing before she even did it, she could make her comeback and never be stopped! She would have to play it by ear, but she had always been good at improv. As she formulated a plan, she had to keep part of her brain ready just to grasp the stream of questions coming out Batgirl's mouth. That girl certainly could talk, almost incessantly.

She smiled warmly, acting very grateful for the help. She had a role to play. "I had no idea my fame had reached such heights that a supervillainess would target me, though I am not sure whether that is a good sign or a bad one," she said with a wry chuckle. Thank goodness she was an actress, because she was about to go undercover in as spectacular a way as possible. "I apologise if I forget to answer one of your questions, but it appears you are a bit excited and are being a bit talkative at the moment. And of course it isn't your fault, dear! Plenty of people think out loud, it is nothing to be ashamed of. I used to do the same thing when I was younger. So, and I apologise again if I forget something, here we go." She clears her throat, preparing her answers in her head as she begins to speak. "My next role will be as Queen Gertrude in Hamlet, the famous play? Yes, so that might be a possible connection. And I will be happy to have you escort me home. In fact, I insist that you, the girls, and Miss Gordon accompany me to my home for a celebratory meal. I will make a call to my chef once we are above ground! This will be quite fun, a good way to get past a terrible night. And if there is one thing I know how to do, it is entertain!" She pauses, suddenly stuck with a thought that could deepen her character and divert a bit of attention from herself. "Perhaps The Queen knew you were there and attacked because of that! Or because Miss Gordon is the daughter of the Commissioner! And she is in an office upstairs! We must go retrieve her, you can keep her safe!"

She grasps Batgirl's hand and begins to lead her out of the basement, to find Miss Gordon. She hadn't planned on saying that last part, but she realised that a dinner part did sound nice. She deserved a reward after a job well done.

"Girls, will you be coming?"

The two girls looked at each other and slowly nodded. The dark haired one spoke, her voice worn out. "If there's food to be had, lead the way." The tiredness in her voice is audible, and she doesn't make a move to grab her gun from the floor as she trudges to follow Ruth and Batgirl. The blonde follows as well, her arms crossed and her head down, a curtain of hair obscuring her face. A weak one, with no head for violence. Still, with the right motivation she could be useful.

She leaves the Professor and the villain behind as she ascends the stairs, out of the basement.

[United States of Brainy]

Lark didn't respond to his question but rather turned to listen to something on her earpiece before turning to go, motioning for him to follow. He did so and was brought to the Penguin's office. "So the Penguin does need my employment, this should be interesting" he thought to himself. She entered into the room , holding the door open for him to enter. He did so and saw not just the Penguin but the Riddler as well. "Thank you Ms. Lark" he says to her as he slipped her two hundred dollars worth of poker chips before walking further into the room. "So, Mr. Cobblepot, what do you need me for?"

Penguin

"Ah, Dr. Meredith! A pleasure to see you again!" Oswald noted the stack of chips in the doctor's hands. "I see that the tables have been treating you well tonight." Whether there was sarcasm or irony in his voice, Oswald hid it well. "Please, have a seat." Without getting up from his own chair, the Penguin gestured to an empty chair besides Riddler. "A drink. Lark, get a drink for these gentlemen. Another dry martini for me."

"What'll it be?" Lark asked them, fixing a seductive eye on Byron.

Her look didn't escape Oswald's notice. "I hope Lark's been treating you alright there, Meredith? I told her to take care of you, I hope she did her job."

Lark left with the drink orders and Oswald got down to business again.

"Dr. Meredith. Mr. Nygma. I believe you two know each other? From your time together at Arkham? Of course, I might be mistaken. No matter, it's inconsequential to the offer I wish to discuss. Both of you are vying to occupy the throne vacated by the Clown Prince of Crime. Now, I am in the position to make that happen. For one of you."

Oswald studied each of them in turn, gaging their reaction.

"You were right, Edward. Our rogues' gallery does need a figurehead, a public face. To draw the populace's attention so that the rest of us may conduct our business in the shadows. As well as to provide the sordid entertainment the masses crave and have been missing since the Joker's absence. But make no mistake, gentlemen, I will back only a winner."

He paused for effect.

Hence, a little test. So, tell me gentlemen, are you game?"

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

She smiled warmly, acting very grateful for the help. She had a role to play. "I had no idea my fame had reached such heights that a supervillainess would target me, though I am not sure whether that is a good sign or a bad one," she said with a wry chuckle. Thank goodness she was an actress, because she was about to go undercover in as spectacular a way as possible. "I apologise if I forget to answer one of your questions, but it appears you are a bit excited and are being a bit talkative at the moment. And of course it isn't your fault, dear! Plenty of people think out loud, it is nothing to be ashamed of. I used to do the same thing when I was younger. So, and I apologise again if I forget something, here we go." She clears her throat, preparing her answers in her head as she begins to speak. "My next role will be as Queen Gertrude in Hamlet, the famous play? Yes, so that might be a possible connection. And I will be happy to have you escort me home. In fact, I insist that you, the girls, and Miss Gordon accompany me to my home for a celebratory meal. I will make a call to my chef once we are above ground! This will be quite fun, a good way to get past a terrible night. And if there is one thing I know how to do, it is entertain!" She pauses, suddenly stuck with a thought that could deepen her character and divert a bit of attention from herself. "Perhaps The Queen knew you were there and attacked because of that! Or because Miss Gordon is the daughter of the Commissioner! And she is in an office upstairs! We must go retrieve her, you can keep her safe!"

No no no! Babs yanked the diva back down the stairs, maybe a little too forcibly, and shoved her back into the basement. “Uhhh…I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, going upstairs. There might still be a few lingering animals about. You better wait here, all of you, until I’ve had a chance to check it out.” Smiling apologetically, Babs left them, making sure that the steel doors were bolted, effectively locking them inside, before hurrying up the stairs.

She had absolutely no intention of ‘inviting’ Barbara Gordon to Ms. Bingum’s soiree. Ugh. That’s one headache I definitely don’t need tonight. Fortunately, the arrival of the police gave her an easy excuse. Quickly huddling with the cops, she raced back downstairs, keeping a flight of stair between her and the first responders. Unlocking the door and heading back inside, she began her explanation in a blur of words.

“The police are here, Ms. Bingum. I found Ms. Gordon, she’s okay. But her father, the police commissioner, is worried about her, so one of the officers is taking her home. I had a chance to speak to her before she left and she thanks you for your generous invite but unfortunately, with much regret, she must decline.”

Whew. That was a mouthful! The last words had just left her mouth when the first responders barged in. They strapped Mr. Hoodie onto a stretcher and checked out Mary and Sydney to make sure they were alright.

“Thanks, Batgirl, we’ll take it from here” the lieutenant on the scene told her as the crimefighter, the two college girls and the Broadway diva prepared to leave.

Heading out to the library parking lot, Babs trailed behind to talk to Sydney. The girl was lagging, her head held down, looking totally dejected. “Hey, cheer up,” Babs told her. “You did a lot of good today. You probably saved everyone’s life, arriving when you did. Did you know that?”

[Tamrida]

Dr. Byron Meredith/Merrymaker

"Ah, Dr. Meredith! A pleasure to see you again!" Oswald noted the stack of chips in the doctor's hands. "I see that the tables have been treating you well tonight." Whether there was sarcasm or irony in his voice, Oswald hid it well. "Please, have a seat." Without getting up from his own chair, the Penguin gestured to an empty chair besides Riddler. "A drink. Lark, get a drink for these gentlemen. Another dry martini for me."

"What'll it be?" Lark asked them, fixing a seductive eye on Byron.

"I will just take a water please he said." Noting the look he was given by the cute brunette, wondering what she meant by that. Perhaps he could pick her brain about that later.

Her look didn't escape Oswald's notice. "I hope Lark's been treating you alright there, Meredith? I told her to take care of you, I hope she did her job."
Lark left with the drink orders and Oswald got down to business again.

When she left, Dr. Meredith responded to the Penguin's question, "Well she did treat me to a rigged game of poker, both a large win and all of the subsequent losses, but that made me believe that you needed me for something and so here I am." He moved the chips from his hands back to his coat pocket and proceeded to wait for Oswald to discuss his plan.

"Dr. Meredith. Mr. Nygma. I believe you two know each other? From your time together at Arkham? Of course, I might be mistaken. No matter, it's inconsequential to the offer I wish to discuss. Both of you are vying to occupy the throne vacated by the Clown Prince of Crime. Now, I am in the position to make that happen. For one of you."

Oswald studied each of them in turn, gaging their reaction.

Dr. Meredith stood stoic and unchanging, not letting the Penguin see his reaction. On the inside he was disappointed, he was expecting a job not an offer for a game of one-upmanship he was not prepared for in the slightest. Sure he had one warehouse stocked to the brim with weapons, explosives, and the like from his failed first attempt at forming the League of Smiles, but he had no underlings to use them or enact his will. What went even more against his favor was the lack of knowledge on the Riddler that he had, sure he knew about his crimes and criminal style, but he didn't know his personally as the Penguin mistakenly believed, and a lack of a personal phycological profile on the Riddler made him very wary of rushing into the challenge, although it did have a strange draw to it.

"You were right, Edward. Our rogues' gallery does need a figurehead, a public face. To draw the populace's attention so that the rest of us may conduct our business in the shadows. As well as to provide the sordid entertainment the masses crave and have been missing since the Joker's absence. But make no mistake, gentlemen, I will back only a winner."

He paused for effect.

Hence, a little test. So, tell me gentlemen, are you game?"

Mr. Cobblepot did have a key point, without the Joker, or even Batman for that matter, the people of Gotham were becoming more devoid of leadership and inspiration, something that was good for his business, something he knew how to use and exploit very well at levels people like the Riddler and the Penguin couldn't, however, that took time, time he wouldn't have if he accepted. "Well it is pretty late and that is a rapid offer that I believe should have time to be thought over. I would say that we sleep on it and meet back here, same time tomorrow with our decisions." The more he thought about it the more excited he became, of it, he did have contacts with people like Mr. Freeze or his old associate Harleen, but he couldn't guarantee their support. He also had his current patients who were coming more around to becoming followers of him, but he knew the dangers of rushing that process, and didn't want to risk it. "Although, I do have some questions to ask you about your intent Mr. Cobblepot." he pauses to make a side glance towards the Riddler before adding, "Alone would be preferable."

[United States of Brainy]

Penguin

Mr. Cobblepot did have a key point, without the Joker, or even Batman for that matter, the people of Gotham were becoming more devoid of leadership and inspiration, something that was good for his business, something he knew how to use and exploit very well at levels people like the Riddler and the Penguin couldn't, however, that took time, time he wouldn't have if he accepted. "Well it is pretty late and that is a rapid offer that I believe should have time to be thought over. I would say that we sleep on it and meet back here, same time tomorrow with our decisions." The more he thought about it the more excited he became, of it, he did have contacts with people like Mr. Freeze or his old associate Harleen, but he couldn't guarantee their support. He also had his current patients who were coming more around to becoming followers of him, but he knew the dangers of rushing that process, and didn't want to risk it. "Although, I do have some questions to ask you about your intent Mr. Cobblepot." he pauses to make a side glance towards the Riddler before adding, "Alone would be preferable."

“My intent, Dr. Meredith? My intent, like all good businessmen, is to profit. To gain more wealth and power. But as the saying goes, a rising tide lifts all boats, so there’s no reason the two of you can’t benefit as well. Afterall, every king needs a court jester.” The subtle twist of the knife. “And I’m sure that either one of you would make an outstanding jester for the other.”

Oswald gave a devilish, sardonic glance to each of them in turn.

“If you have any more questions, my good doctor, I’d be more than happy to answer them after this discussion. But now, if you would be kind enough to allow me to finish.”

There was a polite knock at the door. Lark re-entered, carrying a tray. Dry martini for Oswald, ice water for Meredith and whatever the Riddler was drinking. As the Penguin’s loyal number two bent to hand Byron his drink, she made sure that he got a good view of her cleavage. Giving him a sly smile, she left them again.

“I'm sorry, doctor, are you paying attention? As for sleeping on the offer, I’m afraid that’s out of the question. The job, you see, is time-sensitive. Let me get to the point. Tomorrow night, at 10pm, the freighter Nanda Dawn will be arriving at the Gotham Docks. On board, a special shipment. A cherrywood case, about the size of an ordinary necklace case. But, mark my words, there is nothing ordinary about this case or the item it holds. The case cannot be opened. The lock hidden and uncrackable. At least that’s the rumor. The contents unknown. But…important enough to be guarded by at least 50 Shadow ninjas.”

Oswald let that sink it.

“Bribes have been made to the port commissioner. Port security will be conveniently elsewhere. In addition, I have a diversion arranged at Gotham University, the details of which you don’t need to know, that ought to keep the police, not to mention any costumed heroes, occupied.”

Oswald took a sip of his martini before continuing.

“Your job, gentlemen, is to acquire the case and return it here, intact and unopened. And please, be kind enough not to lead the League to my doorstep. A clean snatch and getaway, that’s what I’m looking for. And in exchange, I will put my full resources into making the man that succeeds the next King of Gotham.”

Oswald took another sip and appraised the pair. “Work separately, work together. Work against one another. I don’t care. The only thing I care about is that case, here, unopened. So, questions gentlemen?

[Tamrida]

Penguin

“My intent, Dr. Meredith? My intent, like all good businessmen, is to profit. To gain more wealth and power. But as the saying goes, a rising tide lifts all boats, so there’s no reason the two of you can’t benefit as well. Afterall, every king needs a court jester.” The subtle twist of the knife. “And I’m sure that either one of you would make an outstanding jester for the other.”

Oswald gave a devilish, sardonic glance to each of them in turn.

If you have any more questions, my good doctor, I’d be more than happy to answer them after this discussion. But now, if you would be kind enough to allow me to finish.”

"I see...perhaps intent wasn't the right choice of words as that was not what I meant but I do indeed have some questions for when we are done."

There was a polite knock at the door. Lark re-entered, carrying a tray. Dry martini for Oswald, ice water for Meredith and whatever the Riddler was drinking. As the Penguin’s loyal number two bent to hand Byron his drink, she made sure that he got a good view of her cleavage. Giving him a sly smile, she left them again.

Dr. Meredith also recorded this purposeful act, but was confused over what she was trying to be playful, if she had feelings for him, or is she had a more sinister reason to try to seduce him.

"I'm sorry, doctor, are you paying attention? As for sleeping on the offer, I’m afraid that’s out of the question. The job, you see, is time-sensitive. Let me get to the point. Tomorrow night, at 10pm, the freighter Nanda Dawn will be arriving at the Gotham Docks. On board, a special shipment. A cherrywood case, about the size of an ordinary necklace case. But, mark my words, there is nothing ordinary about this case or the item it holds. The case cannot be opened. The lock hidden and uncrackable. At least that’s the rumor. The contents unknown. But…important enough to be guarded by at least 50 Shadow ninjas.”

Oswald let that sink it.

Now knowing the plan, the doctor became disheartened. Not only was this out of his league, he was not even going to have time to prepare for this heist, effectively removing him from the running.

"Bribes have been made to the port commissioner. Port security will be conveniently elsewhere. In addition, I have a diversion arranged at Gotham University, the details of which you don’t need to know, that ought to keep the police, not to mention any costumed heroes, occupied.”

Oswald took a sip of his martini before continuing.

“Your job, gentlemen, is to acquire the case and return it here, intact and unopened. And please, be kind enough not to lead the League to my doorstep. A clean snatch and getaway, that’s what I’m looking for. And in exchange, I will put my full resources into making the man that succeeds the next King of Gotham.”

Oswald took another sip and appraised the pair. “Work separately, work together. Work against one another. I don’t care. The only thing I care about is that case, here, unopened. So, questions gentlemen?

He pondered the last part, for a second. Working together with the Riddler would be more successful than fighting each other, especially for him. "Interesting idea. I assume that because you are offering your knowledge and recourses to whomever wins that that is the reason Mr. erm... Enigma is here, a lack of resources. I believe that it would be better to be stronger together then divided and weak, like the bundle of sticks. I have supplies, I just don't have manpower to use them. If this item is of such importance, and right now we are so weak divided, I believe that we should all work together to recover this item before we worry about a competition for power, which we can push back till later." He turns to the Riddler and takes a sip of his water before continuing. What do you say? Would you like to use this as an exercise to stretch our proverbial muscles before the main event?"

[Sterkistan]

Dick Grayson

Dick was going over the plans for the Halloween exhibition at the Antiques Museum, their ideas involved a night-tour of the Museum and a "History of Halloween" exhibit. Now, as with museums in general it would do little more than attract tourists or young children, but the more they could bring in, the better generally.

That was until he heard his phone beep, a custom tone that sounded little more than your average notification buzz. This one, however meant that someone had sent an emergency message on the Disciples of Batman channel. One he officially wasn't given access for, but they didn't need to know that. He placed the phone to his ear, keeping a perfect poker face.

“The Queen has launched a swarm attack. Epicenter at Gotham University.”

Dick left his office, moving at a brisk walk out of the museum and down the few blocks to the storage unit not officially owned by Wayne Industries for the purpose of storage. Dick entered, swiping his card and going inside, closing the door behind him and running toward the wall.
"Open, codename Nightwing."
The panel slid open and the suit came forward, he quickly pulled it off and put it on, securing the various pieces quickly and jumping on his motorcycle, the rear wall opening out to the alley behind the storage unit.

Nightwing

Nightwing sped down the various streets and alleys towards the University. Sliding around the corner to the parking lot and screeching to a stop near where Batgirl and two women were standing, he took his helmet off.
He chuckled slightly, "Well, looks like I came a bit late to the party doesn't it." A stupid grin on his face, he hadn't come to see Barbara since getting back from Bludhaven.

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

Nightwing sped down the various streets and alleys towards the University. Sliding around the corner to the parking lot and screeching to a stop near where Batgirl and two women were standing, he took his helmet off.
He chuckled slightly, "Well, looks like I came a bit late to the party doesn't it." A stupid grin on his face, he hadn't come to see Barbara since getting back from Bludhaven.

Barbara’s breath quickened As he took his helmet off, she got the first good look at his face since he had left for Bludhaven so long ago. Memories came flooding back. That’s the thing about eidetic memory, you never forget anything. Even the memories you wish you could….

“Well, coming late to the party seems like your style these days, doesn’t it?” she retorted. “When you bother to show up at all.”

The stupid grin infuriated her. He knew as well as her that this was their first time seeing one another since he abandoned her to move to Bludhaven. And he was treating it like it was nothing. Like a cocksure attitude and a stupid grin could wipe the past away.

Activating the call signal on her belt for her own bike, she approached him. Even after all these years, she remembered his smell, how good he looked in that costume of his. Feelings of longing welled up in her but she tamped them down.

“You have a lot of nerve,” she whispered, “showing your face after the stunt you pulled.” She just realized she had quoted Lando’s line to Han in The Empire Strikes Back. It annoyed her but it also fit. Like Han, Dick Grayson was a rogue, a scoundrel. And she wouldn’t mind freezing him in some carbonite right about now.

“You were eavesdropping again, weren’t you? On the emergency channel? I’ll make sure it’s the last time. So… I heard you were back. Working at the museum. All that time and you didn’t think to call me? Oh, if you were wondering, the situation’s handled here. The Queen again. She might be gone for good, ‘extinguished’ you might say.” She chuckled bitterly at the pun. “But I kinda doubt it. I’m going to take Ms. Bingum and these two young ladies back to her place.”

The roar of her motorcycle distracted her for a moment. The autopilot pulled the bike to a tight stop a few feet away. “Well, guess that’s my ride.” She turned back to Ruth and the girls. “Ready to go?” she asked them, hopping onto her bike and grabbing her helmet. As she waited for them to get into Ruth’s car, Babs turned back to her former boyfriend one last time. “It’s good to see you again, Dick,” she told him, warmth in her voice, despite everything. Then she donned her helmet and turned away from him.