"Who's the kid?" a gruff voice demanded. It belonged to a familiar face—soone I thought had left Gotham a long ti ago.
Two-Face. Must've just gotten out.
I nearly snorted. Yet another clear sign that Batman and the GCPD's catch-and-release policy worked so well.
"Maybe a little surprise the Queen whipped up?" another voice humd. It was exuberant, sing-song, and set my teeth on edge.
Green hair. White makeup. Ridiculous red lipstick.
The Joker. A madman Batman had capitulated to one too many tis. I wondered why no one had just swung a sword at his head and been done with it.
"Don't you recognize him, Puddin'?" Harley chirped. "He's that kid I've been raving about. Thicker than a brick shithouse now, but that swagger's the sa."
"Hmm?" The Joker squinted, and sobody else barked.
"Whoever he is, he shouldn't be here. This eting is for those who hold territory and power."
The man's accent marked him clearly as Russian—a local cri boss who'd been making the rounds as the face of the growing Russian mob. The police could never pin anything on him. He was just that good.
"Don't be hasty, Dmitri," a soft voice said.
It belonged to the only stranger in the circle I hadn't noticed initially. He had a longsword, of all things, leaning against his chair, long blonde hair, and an old cloak that clung to him. I narrowed my eyes and felt a pulse. The more attention I paid to him, the more he stood out.
He was a sorcerer, like —and a powerful one at that. Definitely not Special Grade, but probably not too far off.
"You're one of hers, aren't you?" I said.
"Whose?"
The entire chamber shook. Wood creaked. Vines shifted. Ivy's eyes bore into .
"That mask cannot protect you from . Neither can your clothes."
I shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sure you got the gist of what I'm looking for from your little puppets. That's how you found out about Killer Croc a few nights ago, isn't it?"
"My emissaries are my eyes and ears in the world above," she said, "and they're only the beginning. The world has suffered enough while I hid underground. It's ti to return to my mission."
I raised a brow. "I can't imagine everyone sitting here will just watch as it happens?"
"The planet is big enough for all of us," she said. "Gotham is just one city."
That was surprisingly enlightened—for them.
Two-Face caught the look on my face and laughed. "I hear Cove city could use so leadership."
"And what about the League?"
"You an your new friends?" Two-Face asked, leaning back into his chair. "They probably understand the broad strokes of our plan. But knowing and stopping it are two different things. Not that you'll be alive to tell them."
I raised my hands in defense. "I ca here to offer my services, not to fight. I can get anything, anywhere—within reason."
"And I have my own networks and people," Ivy said. "Why would I ever trust a spy?"
"I don't exactly work for the Justice League," I pointed out. "They're allies of convenience. Much like you all are."
"But ya ain't against 'em either," Harley pointed out.
"And you've worked with the Bats more than once," Joker added. "That sneaky little rodent could be in your ear right now."
"You know the Batman has a zero-kill policy," I said. "Whatever we have, it won't endure. Not like what we could have. The fact is—I only want one person in this room dead, and it's the arrogant fop with the ridiculous longsword. Whatever his crazy boss is pitching, it'll lead you all straight into a body bag."
Two-Face laughed, and the accused "fop" smirked.
"I don't know about the Queen," Two-Face said, "but I think everyone here knows a dead vigilante when they see one. Got more anger in his blood than sense and an axe to grind with every drug dealer and thug he runs into. Leave him to grow, and he'll bite us in the ass. I say put a bullet in his head and be done with it."
The Russian boss nodded. Harley sighed, made a face, and shrugged in agreent.
"I wonder how long Bats cries before he replaces you with the next one," Joker asked.
"I would like the first crack at him, your majesty willing," the fop said, standing up.
"At least hear my pitch before you decide to lop off my head," I said to Ivy—but got no response.
I grunted, rolling my shoulders. "What the hell. Might as well make the best of this. Do you want to clear out of the way, or—?"
His longsword whipped from its sheath so fast I barely caught it. It spiked toward , a blur in the air. I sidestepped—which turned out to be a mistake. The blade whipped laterally, one of the handle guards slamming into my chest at the last mont.
I spun, raised my hands, and flexed Inverse.
The blunt end shattered my guard—much to my surprise—broke flesh, ripped muscle, and even fractured bone. It shoved back several steps.
What the fuck is that sword?
"Witch Killer," the fop said. "Fashioned by the Church in the 1700s to hunt down witches and sorcerers. Ironically, it never killed anyone with actual magic, but it spilled enough blood to beco a true cursed weapon."
"It cuts through curses," I realized.
"Pairs well with my technique: Cursed Tool Manipulation," he said. "From the na, you can guess what it does."
He exploded forward, drawing two blades from his billowing cloak and descending.
I shifted, assud Simple Domain, and materialized my katana and sheath just in ti to use Batto Drawing. But he swayed over it, his cloak lifting him higher. Bouncing off nothing, he descended again, and I leapt back, drew a pistol, and fired.
The bullet pinged off Witch Piercer, the blade rotating in front of him to form a barrier. He sent the daggers flying. With quick footwork, they missed their marks—but not Witch Piercer. It accelerated just as I was on the back foot and would've run through if not for Overdrive and a quick application of Simple Domain.
My blade wasn't as fast as it could be, but the explosive parry let send the blade flying—whipping toward Ivy and leaving the fop exposed.
But I didn't aim for him.
Instead, I chose to thin the herd. My watchers.
The first gunshot found Two-Face, the second the Joker, the third the Russian. All heart shots.
Two died.
But the Joker—ever the cockroach—survived.
Harley jerked up. "Mister J!"
The fop's daggers were on before I could properly process her reaction, and the man himself drifted closer—so did his longsword, reversing course and closing in.
I vanished my sword and received the daggers with waiting hands. They stopped dead the mont they touched my skin, and I seized them—vanishing them into my inventory before rocketing forward with a flash of Overdrive and summoning my brass knuckles.
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