joker's wild

[bossymarmalade]

Bruce stands in front of the two headstones, dressed in a dress shirt and slacks, obviously unchanged from the day. He isn’t wearing the tie, the jacket, and holds nothing in his hands, but the couple hundred dollar price tag on the black jeans doesn’t stop him from kneeling, and brushing his hand over a discolored spot over the M on the second stone.

Harley!!! [TXT, to SELINA] <3 <3 <3
Roy snorts. “Yeah, and..” He moves around a corner, back towards the park they had come from: it was a good place to scout out the three or four people in Gotham who were actively peddling the Double Smile. Roy grunts. “..seems like Bats has the same issue, too.” He is aware of the Talia situation, it seems, but doesn’t elaborate further: he just continues to walk. “..either way, lemme know how I can help, yeah?”

Mari ‘s thick-soled heels don’t give her as much trouble crossing the Wayne Manor’s grounds as a pair of Louboutins might, but she makes the distance on foot anyway. It’d be…wrong to not walk it. Her approach is slowed when she spots Bruce’s bank, flanked on either side by his parents’ gravestones, and she remains silent, but purposefully steps on a stick as she draws near.

Selina [TEXT] Well, I haven’t heard from you in ages. I hear you’re getting yourself in trouble again.

Ollie grunts, taking the hard, rapid snort of breath that signals that he’s more than ready to move on to another topic — forcibly, if necessary. “Sure. So — what you seen going on here? Is it just Double Smile? I’m hearing tales told that this resurgence isn’t just the same old product for a new batch of customers. It’s reformulated.”

Cheshire skirts around a rooftop water tank, peering over the edge. She hasn’t yet lost sight of them; and after a quick scan of the park a block away, she can see what they’re after. As if their loud, braying, Arrow-speak didn’t already give them away - if someone knew what to listen for. Jade rolls her eyes and watches father and son for a moment, then quickly makes her way into the park as well. She easily hops up onto a Park maintenance shed that’s behind Oliver (perfectly away from his line of sight) but perfectly facing Roy. Slowly, deliberately, she unfurls and waits to be seen. By him.

Roy nods, and looks out, towards the park. “Heard the same, that the high that comes with the.. abilities.. it’s clearer, givin’ ‘em more of a way around usin’ them? And less of a crash after. Like someone’s getting the cook cleaner.” Roy grits his teeth, exhaling, and moves towards a shaded part of the park, where the trees are denser, a low bridge into the south end of the land, where Roy can see edges of colorful splashes of spray paint against brick, the bridge, the maintenance— He spots her, there, and clearing his throat, he nods his head at a bench. “Gonna scope it out, go take a seat, kiddo.” He grins at Ollie, without a hitch.

Harley!!! [TXT, to SELINA] Yeeeeeaaaahhhhhhhh well you know a grrl’s gotta keep bizzy.

Ollie snorts again, this time in amusement. “Yeah, sounds good. If I’m /real/ lucky, one of ‘em’ll take me for a potential buyer.” He trots off to the park bench, sitting down and throwing his arm along the back of the bench.

Bruce smiles at the sound of the stick snapping and speaks over his shoulder, without turning around, his Korean amused as it slips from over his tongue: “..I heard you before that.” He moves his hand from the face of the stone, before turning to look at Mar’i, his expression, oddly, softened from its normal stress.

Selina [TEXT] You keeping busy now? Anything you can share?

Harley!!! stares at her phone for a moment, before she messages back. [TXT, to SELINA] you ever wanna goto paris?

Roy moves around the bridge, edging through the people who are standing there—they do not look at Roy more than twice, he has a natural talent for blending, it seems—as he hikes up the steep slope of earth surrounding the bridge, and towards the shed. He doesn’t sound angry, but his voice is sharp when he calls out to her: “What are you doing here?”



Cheshire drops down out of Roy’s sight for a moment, because she knows what route he’d take; she’d find him tiresomely predictable if Jade didn’t, honestly, find it ridiculously endearing. In a flash she suddenly darts in front of him, pulling herself up to her full small lean build to look Roy straight in the eyes. Without saying anything Jade grabs twists of his shirt and using his momentum she swings him around until his back is up against the red brick of the shed. “What the hell are you doing here?” she hisses, stepping up onto the toes of Roy’s shoes in order to edge her face close to his.

Selina frowns at her phone. [TEXT] Paris, France? I’ve been once. But I certainly would love to go again. …Why?

Roy grunts as he slams against the brick, because he allows it, because she wants it, but his hands move up to grab at her elbows, knuckles going bright with pressure. He pushes his weight off with a kick, turning her around, onto her back, both of his hands roughening up her forearms to grab her wrists. He grits his teeth: “I asked first.”

Mari smiles almost shyly and shrugs up her shoulders, raising up the large bouquets in her arms. “You said I could come over,” she reminds him, without really needing to. Mar’i takes her focus away now, away from Bruce and to the twin tombstones. She approaches quietly, laying one bouquet at the foot of each rock, before briefly closing her eyes and bowing her head. There are gods for all people, and here, in this place, Mar’i’s goddess is not the one she prays to.

Alabama approaches Oliver from the north end of the park, his hoodie pulled up, shoulders slumped, head bowed. He’s not skate-boarding, but walking, his dusky face hidden under the shade of the hood, headphones plugged in. He pulls out his phone, nails chewed to the edges, and begins to send a text, taking a seat at the edge of the bench near Ollie. He is no more than a day over sixteen, going possibly as low as fourteen, but no lower. He mutters, lowly, under his breath, unintelligible.

Harley!!! sends back, quickly. [TXT, to Selina] You should go. 2night. there’s a ticket for you on the 7:55 out of Gotham

Cheshire looks at his hands and then smirks back up at Roy as she cracks just one of her wrists pinned in his grasp. She twists it just enough to remind Roy that she can bend herself out of any grip she doesn’t want to be in…however at this moment, Jade allows it. She even nudges one of her hips up against his thigh. Another reminder. But the playful act is dropped when she answers his question, her tone still biting and impatient. “I’m here for you, you fool. Now answer me.” She adds a bonus question, knowing she can ask this without Roy making any fuss: “Is Lian in Star City?”

Selina frowns harder, her lips curling down as a chill runs down her spine. [TEXT] Really. Whose idea is this?

Roy hasn’t forgotten how malleable the woman’s limbs are, even before the second reminder, but feeling her hip brush up against his thigh makes a slurry of images roll up his spine and spill into his mind’s eye. Him. Her. A tangle of limbs and sweat, bruises-in-the-making—R​oy grits his teeth harder and tightens his hands around her wrists, until the small bones creak under the pressure, until his fingers are jabbing into her tendons, his engagement ring twists in her skin; his own reminder. “I’m—” But then she asks about Lian and his hands go slack. “What? Yeah, she’s.. With Rose.” His brow furrows and he grits his teeth. “She’s safe..” And Roy doesn’t bother to voice the unspoken part of the question: ..isn’t she?

Ollie looks over, then away again; at this point he’s good at observing somebody suspicious out of the corner of his eye, and although this kid hasn’t done anything, there’s a … vibe about him. The kind of unsettling vibe that those kids at the Gotham Mall had given off, almost … was it a year ago? The kind of aura that tickled the spidey-senses of any vigilante worth their salt. He gives it a few minutes, then lifts his hand to look at his bare wrist, making an aggravated noise. “Hey, kid,” Ollie says, leaning a bit towards Alabama, “you got the time?”

Bruce watches Mar’i, the darkness of her shadow contrasting with the tone of her skin, her hair, feeling his heart twist in his chest. He doesn’t speak, while she prays, and instead, waits, for her to finish—how he knows she is done, isn’t clear—before speaking, quietly. “Over there, did you come here?”

Harley!!! [TXT, to Selina] mine.

Harley!!! sends quickly after. [TXT, to Selina] just be good kitty kat and go to hermès for me

Harley!!! smiles, biting the inside of her cheek. [TXT, to Selina] or longchamps

Cheshire “She better be,” Jade spits back, with the unspoken additional of blame on Roy - solely on Roy - if Lian wasn’t. But that was habit, not a current truth. She ignores the press of Roy’s ring - some new conceit? or something else? - and also ignores the pain. No…actually she relishes the pain, because it’s familiar and nostalgic, even. Jade starts to climb her small feet up along Roy’s shins, curving around his kneecaps and then further up to the thick meat of his thighs. She is coiling herself into a ball as she speaks. “You haven’t answered my question. Why aren’t /you/ in Star City with her?”

Harley!!! goes starry eyed. [TXT, to Selina] or chanel ooh oh go to chanel

Mari laughs lightly, but doesn’t turn around just yet. “Yeah,” she replies, readjusting the bouquet on Martha’s grave as if she’s trying to find the perfect place for it. “The only Hebrew prayers I ever learned, I learned here…”

Alabama mumbles again, and turns his head towards Ollie, his eyes bloodshot. He realizes, when the man asks, that he hasn’t heard him and he raises his voice, but not his head. “..you’re.. you’re him, right?”

Selina purses her lips. [TEXT] You sound like you’d like the trip. Come with? : )

Bruce ‘s expression stills, his mouth flattening as his brow levels out, and it is obvious that he was not expecting that. He looks over at the flowers, at his parents’ tombstones, before he looks back at the young woman. There is a tenderness in his expression that manifests in the corners of his eyes, tugs of loose skin wrinkling, creating crow’s feet as he looks down at the ground in front of him, the overrun sod. He clears his throat. “From him?”

Ollie spreads his hands. “That question could mean anything. I’m /him/ to a lotta people.” He’s definitely on guard now, hitching the messenger bag at his side.

Mari glances over at Bruce and raises an eyebrow, as if to say ‘who else?’

Roy ignores everything about what is going on save for the facts of it all: she was here. Jade was here in Gotham, on the same day that Roy was in Gotham, and had found him. He ignores the feel of her feet wrapping around his legs, the way she is climbing up his body like she majored in it, and grits his teeth so hard that the back molars part a little bit from the pressure. “Because I’m helping someone out, Jade, what do you care?” It’s a juvenile response, Roy’ll figure out in retrospect, but he doesn’t care much. He pulls his rucksack higher, but with no intent on opening it up: this close, with her breath puffing out and clouding against his skin, her legs parted and the heavy, warm weight of her thighs wrapping around his own, it would be guaranteed lunacy to try to pull his bow out. “Why are you here?” He repeats his question, eyes moving down over her face, tracing the fullness of her cheeks, the lustre of her hair.

Harley!!! frowns and bites the inside of her lip before she moves over, stepping into the over-large pants: the waistband is circular, much larger than Harley herself, kept in a circle by a hula-hoop: she hauls the suspenders over her shoulders, lifting them up. [TXT, to SELINA] can’t. gotta date tonight

Selina [TEXT] good date, bad date? I’m going to guess bad date if I’m supposed to get out of Gotham fast.

Bruce shifts over towards Mar’i and each lift of his foot is a slow, deliberate action: as if he were afraid to get closer to her, closer to her as she kneels in front of his parents, a child from a different world than they had ever known, and yet. And yet. His arm lifts, as if guided by an unseen force, and he settles it on the crown of her head, the words velvet soft as they curl around his tongue, drift off the edges of his teeth. The words are rough, his accent—unlike nearly every other he speaks—croaked and rusty in his mouth, but he remembers every word, since the day they were uttered here, before the space had been fenced off, before he had buried his parents in his heart. “Y’hei sh’lama raba min sh’maya.”

Cheshire “I don’t care,” she breathes warm against Roy’s collarbone, and suddenly one of her wrists are free, but she keeps herself braced between the wall and the familiar weight of Roy’s muscles. With her free hand, she caresses his face in a gentle way. It’s tinged with possessiveness, but overshadowed by something else. “And I told you already, I’m here because of you. You fool .” Jade exhales suddenly, snapping out of the moment and using him to somersault, pushing against the wall and climbing over the large mass of Roy’s shoulders. She lands on her feet behind him, and stays a good foot away from him. Jade points, almost like a mother reprimanding a child. “Just leave. Green Arrow can take care of himself. Go back to Star City. Go on.”

Alabama ‘s leg begins to bounce—a user’s jiggle, to be sure—but he looks over at Ollie, his expression mournful. “You’re him, the guy, the hero, right?” His voice pitches up, into juvenile softness, a ragged bolt of fear underpinning the words. The burnt sienna of his skin is nearly blanched. “It’s.. it’s the beard.”

Ollie knuckles his beard casually. “Kind of an overactive imagination you got there, huh? Lots of people got goatees, kid.”

Mari doesn’t finish the next line, if only because she’s not one of the ‘us,’ not someone with the right to pray for the Bnai Yisraʾel. Mar’i’s claim to this divinity is shaky at best, so she skips a line ahead, and says softly, “Amein.”

Alabama makes a short sound, and shakes his head, again and again, as he hunches over. It’s obvious now: he’s not listening to music, not listening to anything, and he murmurs: “..it’s all, it’s all gonna..” He exhales, and stands, muttering: “..it’s six forty-five.”

Harley!!! pauses her texting as she slides into the top half: all together, it gives her a round Tweedle-Dum appearance, her curves gone under rounded domes of plastic. Harley grunts musically, hopping around as she attempts to grab her phone, sending back: [TXT, to Selina] Good’s in the eye of the beholder, pussycat

Ollie “…were you asking that for a reason?” Ollie sits forward on the bench, eyes trained on Alabama’s every move. “If I was that guy? What, you got something needs helping or something?”

Selina [TEXT] Say, is this the kind of “go to Paris” trip that means I’m not gonna come home to a home or an alibi? Curiosity and all that.

Bruce doesn’t question the skip in the prayer, because even with his own basic birthright, the words are foreign in his mouth for more than a few reasons. He looks back, at the tombstones, and his voice drops in volume, as he slips into English. “..when you first came, there was a part of me that had hoped they had lived long enough to—” He stops, and clears his throat, shaking his head. The dark blue of his eyes drift over to the soft roundness of her face, despite her age, and a muscle twists angrily in his chest at how he remembers the feel of her small body in his arms, sleeping against his chest, curled in his armchair and— “Are you staying for supper?”

Harley!!! picks up a brush and begins to comb out her hair, the strands puffy and elevated in the Gotham humidity. She scowls, and sends: [TXT, to Selina] well you got insurance dontcha

Selina growls under her breath. [TEXT] Along with three dozen cats, several irreplaceable mementos, and more things than I can pack into a vault in three hours. [TEXT] Just spare my block? I won’t tell~

Mari grins immediately at the mention of food, pushing her cheeks upwards to pinch her eyes nearly shut. “I can stay for supper?” she asks excitedly, jumping up and dusting her butt off.

Roy grunts when she moves away from him, when her arm is freed, when she uses the coiled and wiry muscles inside of her body like a gymnast’s to spring off the wall and his knees, hips, to get up and over and land without a sound. He doesn’t whip around, but turns, slowly, his expression darkening. “I’m not going fuckin’ anywhere until you give me a hint about why I should.”

Harley!!! makes a face at her phone. [TXT, to Selina] ..no one cares about our barrios, kitty kat, remember??

Alabama stops in his tracks, the tremor from his leg bouncing up his whole body, and now, the cool-and-detached act is starting to slip when he squeaks, age shining through in the crisp break of his voice: “..it’s my mom’s, you gotta promise she’s not gonna—” He breathes in sharply, turning back to look at Ollie, bloodshot eyes wider as he moves forward, then back, then forward: “..mom and my little brother Omar, if I give you their—you’ll makes sure they’re okay? That’s how this works, right?” His understanding is more in line with police protection, naïveté heart shatteringly obvious as he bunches his hands up and up at his side.

Selina [TEXT] I do!

Selina [TEXT] Just give me an idea who to look out for, OK?

Harley!!! does not respond.

Ollie stands up, unfurling slowly. “Hey,” he says, “take it easy, kiddo. Start from the top. I’ll do what I can, but you gotta tell me what’s going on. Is it the Double Smile? Is that what you’re mixed up in?” He takes a careful step forward, hands held slightly up, out, visible to the young man.

Bruce holds his hand out to help her up, instincts that he never knew he had coming into play, and he explains: “Alfred made French Onion soup.”

Mari ‘s grin widens. “I love French Onion soup!” Which is true, because Mar’i loves all soup.

Cheshire “Because it’s not safe here!” she says, her lip curling slightly. “Just like it wasn’t safe for Lian in Co—” she cuts herself off and turns away from Roy, frustrated for reasons that are purely her own. Eventually she speaks up again. “You think it’s strange? That so many of us…the dark women who bring the illegitimate children into your…brave heroes’…life have shown up recently” She pauses again, because her tone has become bitter - but it’s not the bitterness she wants to quell, it’s the sadness. “Talia. And Shado. And now here I am as well.” She turns to look at Roy. “What group do we all have in common, Roy?” It’s the first time she’s used his name in the conversation so far. “What person? Us baby-making exotic assassins are only the /body/ of the Demon, after all.”

Alabama ‘s face wrinkles and he shakes his head. “NO.” His voice pitches up, and he doesn’t step towards Ollie, and he bites his tongue, his hands balling up into tight fists—like he might take a swing at the archer. “No,” he repeats, less loud but no less urgent: “..no, you gotta promise me that you’ll take CARE of them!!”

Selina sucks her teeth for a moment, Isis pacing by her feet as she picked up Selina’s discomfort. [TEXT to Bruce] Something’s going down tonight.

Roy doesn’t seem to catch onto any of the rest of it, because the first statement has caught on Roy’s interest like an infected hangnail: he can’t let go of it. Not yet. He takes a step forward, his eyes narrowing, the seafoam green of his eyes turbulent as something clicks in his head. “Like it wasn’t safe for Lian in..?” He repeats, and then adds. “In Coast?” He takes another step. “It wasn’t safe in Coast?”

Ollie moves forward enough to grasp the kid’s arms, right above the elbows where it’s easy to cinch, curtail any movement of his fists. “Look,” he says more urgently, “You have to level with me! I can’t promise to take care of your family if you willingly do something that takes you away from them! TELL me what you’re talking about!”

Alabama shakes his head so hard that the hoodie slides down, revealing the full of his face, giving a better idea of how young he is, but despite all of that, he doesn’t move from Ollie, and shakes his head. “Dallas set up everything so that in case he didn’t make it, we could continue but the new dude.. he..” He can’t continue. “I heard the older guys talkin’ and it’s not just turf stuff, it’s like.. terrorism shit, you know? I’m not—” His eyes flash, angrily. “I’m not okay with that.”

Harley!!! finally responds. [TXT, to Selina] Gotta go, parade’s about to start <3

Cheshire rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. “No. Why do you think I blew up that idiotic frat house of yours?” She talks impatiently, as if this isn’t important in the slightest. “It’s too bad I didn’t also destroy that foolish Lantern of yours, but —” Jade stalks forward, snapping her sharp-nailed fingers in front of his face. “Stay with me, Roy. Head of the Demon? Go on, you can figure this out. Star City is the only place you’re safe, because he hasn’t - ” She presses her lips together, shaking her head. Jade didn’t give a damn about Ra’s al Ghul; but she still had some strange code in her mind, that meant she wasn’t about to divulge anymore information than necessary. Not when she was trying to protect her child, her one weakness. “Never mind. Just go back to Star City and Lian. You do want to keep her safe, don’t you?”

Selina scrunches her mouth to one side and gets out of bed, rushing to her closet to change. It sounds like a working night tonight.

Ollie doesn’t let up his grip, holding on tighter, if anything. “No, no, of course you’re not,” he agrees. “You’re not that kind of kid, you’re not into that /really/ bad shit, that serious shit. And listen, if you tell me what it is this new dude’s planning, I can help you. I promise you, I can help.” Ollie pauses in his impassioned exhortations only long enough to give a very short, loud whistle that would almost seem like a nervous tic, to anybody who wasn’t part of his family. Every dad’s got a special way to call his kids.

Bruce moves ahead of Mar’i, moving to open the gate to the small plot at the far west south corner of the grounds: he holds it open for her, explaining as she passes through: “He’s with Damian, downtown, for the holiday.” Bruce doesn’t explain that Damian had insisted he be allowed to go to the bay for the fireworks, and had made nearly every threat he thought that would work until Alfred had relented: it was nearly self-explanatory. He continues to move, locking the space up behind them, before he asks, quietly, as he steps to her side. “He existed for you before,” he asks-doesn’t-ask, looking up and over where the lands of his estate slope down, where, between the trees, off in the distance, Gotham glints like a gem clutched in someone’s hand. He looks at the woman beside him, side-long, not expecting an answer.

Roy ‘s eyes burn brightly, the color of them spiking up like riptide as he surges forward, his hands snapping out to grip her upper arms, his thumbs dimpling the soft, muscled flesh with bruising force: he’s done with pleasantries, not after the threat to Kyle, not after what she says. He makes a short, frustrated noise when Ollie calls out, but doesn’t sound back, doesn’t say anything, but curls his fingers into her arms, brows connecting with a snap at the center: “..because he hasn’t—Ra’s?” The noise is guttural, Roy’s knowledge of Arabic painting the word. “What’s he got to do with anything?”

Alabama looks down at Ollie’s hands where they grip his arms, tighter, and then, with the whistle, his dark skin blanches further. “What are you? You’re workin’ with someone!” The accusation is flung as he attempts to wrench himself free, forcibly, from Ollie’s grip.

Mari follows Bruce back towards the Manor, now allowing herself to sink into a sort of float after him to salvage her shoes as much as possible. “I’m just glad his food doesn’t taste any different. I mean, he might know less Korean dishes, but I can cook those myself. I don’t know anyone else who makes risotto that good.”

Isis is waiting with her by the balcony by the time Selina’s dressed. Selina’s kicked out Holly and Maven, ordering them to take whatever objects and cats they can and head to a safe house, just in case. Everything she can stuff in her own safe is there; now it’s just her, Isis, and a few of the diamonds she took from Bruce tucked into her suit. “Come on, girl,” she says, stooping to let Isis hop onto her shoulder. “We’ve got work to do.”

Ollie “Only other people like me. Other heroes. Nobody bad.” He steps in closer, shielding them from a couple of women walking through the park behind them. “You gotta trust me, I want to help you. You need to tell me what’s going on. What’s this terrorism shit you mentioned? What’re they planning to do?”

Cheshire headbutts him with the full force of her body so that Roy is forced to take a few steps back and Jade is able to gain some sort of purchase. She hates being held down against her will - she HATES it and she knows Roy knows that. “Promise me first that you won’t run off half-cocked on one of your usual crusades of some misplaced romantic honor. You and your stupid romance…” It’s only then that her eyes finally drift to look down, where his left hand grips her arm. The press of the ring on her skin. Her body slackens completely, and she speaks dully now. “Ra’s is unstable. More than usual, I mean. The focus, that magnetic drive and purpose he used to exact on others…it’s simply not there any longer.” She eyes him with a sly curiousity. “So Talia said nothing of this, did she? Not Shado either? Fool, still trying to protect him.”

Alabama looks up at Ollie, instantly calming under the other man’s gaze, when he turns them both. He looks around, at the park, at the women, before he looks back at the archer and licks his lips, blurting out, like if he doesn’t say it, he won’t get it out: “The parade. The one downtown.”

Ollie stares. “The Fourth of July parade?” he says. “The one that’s due to start in an hour? THAT parade??” It’s like he’s swallowed a gallon of ice water, the sick sloshing feeling that those words cause.

Bruce feels his mouth curl at the edges, his voice warming a touch as he continues to walk with her. He glances over, looking down at her shoes—noting the designer, no doubt—before he clarifies: “Damian.” He pauses, and then adds, as if he does not need to explain himself, and perhaps he doesn’t: “..that was him, in the cloak.” Bruce didn’t need the confirmation, if he knew this much, and how could he not? Age, space and time could not separate the sight of the young man that burned itself into his memory and mind, nearly a year ago, now. Damian, in his adult form, his grandfather’s cloak tucked over broad, proud shoulders. Damian, eyes like hurricanes, blurring the strength of his sight, his gaze. Damian, grown up. Damian, survived.

Mari stops mid-stride, swinging her gaze up from where it has been focused on the ground, watching for holes and dips, to warn him if he steps too close to one. The color is already gone from her face, the glow too, by the time her eyes reach his, and her mouth goes slightly slack at the edges.

Roy knows she hates it, and that’s why he did it, but he doesn’t relent, rounding on her again. Trying to get anything out of her by force is a fool’s errand (you fool) but to keep them all safe, he’ll damn well try. “I don’t know about either of them,” he snaps. “I’m askin’ ‘bout you, Jade—” Her name crackles in his throat like a flashfire, but he presses on. “—what is Ra’s going to DO?”

Alabama looks up at Ollie, his expression dropping into one of remorse, one of true sorrow and he licks his lips again, his voice crackling when he corrects: “..they pushed it up.” He sounds as if he had made the decision: “..it started ten minutes ago.”

Bruce If he were any other man, Bruce might regret the pain he’s brought with the inquiry, the line of thought and question. But, instead, a cold and rigid satisfaction rolls through his belly, icing his viscera as he realizes that he was right, and on more than what he had voiced out loud to her. He stops, at the edge of a hill that slopes gently down, towards a small pond, a willow tree, and presses on, with a cold and clinical hand, as if he were trying to erase the softness from his thoughts of her, this woman in front of him, replace them with this, instead: Bruce’s words a knife, slicing through the veil that had hung between them, untouched. The pain is sweet, and sure: “..you loved him.”

Cheshire eyes flash up at Roy - both a warning that she’s planning to get away soon, and also a warning to him of things to come. “Whatever he wants to do, with no sane thought to hold him back .” She twists in his grip and kicks his shin hard at the same time, struggling like a cat to get away from him. “Next time I see you, if you’re not in Star City with our little girl then I will fucking knock you out and drag you back there myself!” she spits, before turning and sprinting away.

Ollie drops his hold on Alabama’s arms, shock rimming his eyes, gone bright green under the nondescript ballcap — and the disguise is done, too, because there’s nobody else he could /be/ now except Green Arrow. “What else??” he demands, pointing at the youth, while with his other hand he screws the League comm into his ear. “B,” Ollie barks into the comm, “stand by for red alert, downtown Gotham.”

Mari ‘s mouth opens wider, as if she has some good excuse, some good response to his statement. But, in the end, Mar’i doesn’t. She turns to look at the willow tree instead, and when that makes something else entirely well up inside her, something she realizes she shouldn’t be thinking as Bruce says what he does. So the thought turns bitter. It all turns bitter in her stomach, her heart, her mouth, and Mar’i shivers against the breeze off the pond.

Alabama licks his lips again, and he whispers-mutters, his eyes going wide at the sight of Ollie’s transformation in front of him, in front of his very eyes. “..Sam was talking about the kids ‘cause Dallas never went straight for the kids.. but when mom and Omar and me went, they always puttem right in the front during the parade, you know?” He shakes his head, his skin shading a bit green.

Bruce looks away from her, and down to the pond, where she is looking, and feels the breeze lift up, cool, off the water, as it wafts towards them both. His words continue to slip out, catching on the swell of it, his heart migrating from his chest to the space under his tongue, so that they are heart-warmed, delicate, when he asks her, the last of his questions: “Was he.. Is he a good man, Mar’i, will he—” But then, Oliver’s voice crackles through, a sharp nasality making Bruce’s spine straighten, go rigid as he lifts his hand, tucking the ear piece deeper in. “Downtown Gotham,” he repeats, before growling, moving in the direction of the Manor: “Robin is downtown.” He doesn’t add in that Alfred is there as well, figuring that Green Arrow would know that if Bruce weren’t with his son, that there would be only a few others he could trust with him.

Roy watches as Jade leaves, his hands balled up at his sides, mirroring the boy outside without knowing it. He doesn’t call out after her, because all that would do is satisfy a childish desire to have the last word, and, alternatively, would alert Ollie to the fact that he had been talking to her, something that he isn’t quite ready to divulge, not just yet.

At a couple hundred yards away, Cheshire blows a kiss at Roy before completely disappearing.

Just to fuck with him a bit, because Jade.

Ollie goes a touch more rigid in the spine when he hears that Damian’s gone downtown to see the parade (of course, pomp and ceremony and bright things and animals that would appeal to Damian, and a guardian with him who would tenderly indulge that desire) and he nods at Alabama. “Anything else apart from the kids?” he asks, and then whistles again, louder and angrier. He doesn’t answer Bruce back right away, not without all the information he can get, but Ollie’s already gearing up for the run down to the parade route, impatient to get there.

Mari takes a few moments to catch what’s happened, because her mind’s gone to a terrible place, and she feels herself tugging off the ring on her finger just as it reaches the very first joint after her nail. She swallows, forces that lump of bitterness as far as she can (which isn’t far at all) and moves after Bruce. “Downtown,” she asks, for clarification. She doesn’t need to know what little details there are. Mar’i just needs to know where to go.

Alabama shakes his head. “Just that they had to ‘make sure they got all of the street’—something about cable wires or computers or something..” He states, distracted when Roy appears, out of nowhere. He looks to Ollie, as if to say, this is the other hero folk?

Roy exhales at that kiss, his lips parting slightly, before the whistle cuts through the air and he hollers “ALRIGHT!” before turning tail and running over to Ollie, slowing down when he sees the freaked-out kid. He looks over at the archer. “This the kid with the information?”

Dickiebird joined the Rebel Alliance

Roy: exhales at that kiss, his lips parting slightly, before the whistle cuts through the air and he hollers “ALRIGHT!” before turning tail and running over to Ollie, slowing down when he sees the freaked-out kid. He looks over at the archer. “This the kid with the Double Smile information?”

Roy exhales at that kiss, his lips parting slightly, before the whistle cuts through the air and he hollers “ALRIGHT!” before turning tail and running over to Ollie, slowing down when he sees the freaked-out kid. He looks over at the archer. “This the kid with the Double Smile information?”

Ollie “This is him,” Ollie says simply, and if there’s a reason he wanted Roy to come over, for Alabama to get a good eyeful of what Arsenal, a bonafide hero looks like, he doesn’t press the point. Instead he turns aside a little, switching his League device from mic to comm, and says lowly, “B, you copy all that? Kids in the front of the parade, cable wires to cover the whole street? Arsenal and me are on our way to intercept the parade.”

Selina crouches on a rooftop overlooking the parade, trying to spot Harley in the crowd. There’s too many people, even just in the parade itself, and none of them are standing out to her yet. She swaps out her phone for her comm. “This is Catwoman. I’m in Downtown Gotham by the parade,” she says to whoever might be listening. “Harley Quinn is involved.”

Bruce looks to Mar’i, nodding his head upright, at the sky, before taking off at a run, towards the Manor. Mud cakes his dress shoes, the hem of his pants, but he doesn’t stop, until he reaches the nearest entrance to the Cave: he doesn’t take the stairs, but inside, sets his hip on the guard rail and slides down, landing with a clatter as he moves to the main panel, shedding clothes as he goes. He is on the comms now, his voice terse, Bruce slipping away with every step into the darkness he takes. “The parade begins at Roxbury Bridge, going south on Ross, until it turns—” He is reciting the path of the parade from memory, something he had committed there when he’d allowed Damian to go. “It turns onto West Flower, moving in front of—” He stops, and states: “The police station. GCPD headquarters is directly on the parade route, amongst other—” When Selina’s voice crackles in, he grits his teeth: “She contacted you?”

Selina pets Isis when she mewls at her, shushing her a little. “She texted me, told me I had a ticket to Paris waiting for me and to get the hell out of Dodge.” She smirked. “I think I’m going to miss that flight.”

Bruce lets loose a noise that cannot be described as anything but a snarl, and sheds the rest of his clothes before pulling on his compression gear, roughly.

Roy exhales, roughly, when he catches wind of what’s going on. He nods to Alabama, sizing the kid up, before he opens up his rucksack: he pulls a collapsible bow from it, moving behind the trunk of a nearby tree to remove his jeans, the shirt, shoving them into the dark canvas bag. He wraps his hand and lifts the lid on the closest trash can and tosses the clothes inside—along with his coveted lemonade water—before putting the top back on and moving back over to Ollie, domino firmly in place. He looks at the kid, and smirks: “..great disguise, right?” He looks over at Ollie and nods: ready to roll.

Mari nods just once before she buckles down, thankful for the loose hem of her skirt as she crouches slightly. Then, no less than a few seconds later, she bullets up into the sky, curving forward with a wide, electric thistle contrail that follows in her wake.

Alabama stares at Roy—Arsenal— for a second, because for him, yeah, it’s strange to think of the guy that had been standing there a second ago looking now like.. this. He turns his gaze towards Ollie, as if waiting for him to sprout horns.

Ollie “Gotcha. We’ll make it to the cop shop before you do. Meetcha there.” Ollie spends the span of this terse communication slinging on his hip quiver, expanding his own takedown bow, transforming into Green Arrow fully in a matter of seconds. “Thanks for the intel, kid,” he says, already starting to jog off in the direction of GCPD headquarters. “You go home and stay the fuck outta the rest of this, okay?”

Roy stares at Alabama when Ollie takes off, and adds: “And say no to drugs!” Yes. Good job, Roy. He shakes his head and takes off after Ollie, ducking his head and leaning into the wind, as he picks up the pace, hand lifting to curl against his ear, tucking his comm in. “Arsenal and Green Arrow here, moving..” He looks up. “North on Van Brundt towards the parade path.”

Roy stares at Alabama when Ollie takes off, and adds: “And say no to drugs!” Yes. Good job, Roy. He shakes his head and takes off after Ollie, ducking his head and leaning into the wind, as he picks up the pace, hand lifting to curl against his ear, tucking his comm in. “Arsenal and Green Arrow here, moving..” He looks up at the first street sign he can read, quickly locating himself on the tiny map of Gotham tucked away in his head. “North on Van Brundt towards the parade route.”

Roy rolls the duck down at the front of the parade, slowly, the mallet replaced with a large, fake sparkler: air moves out of the hose and makes the tinsel at the top wave as if it were lit.

Harley!!! rolls the duck down at the front of the parade, slowly, the mallet replaced with a large, fake sparkler: air moves out of the hose and makes the tinsel at the top wave as if it were lit.

Bruce has already changed, into his full gear, when he responds to to Selina: “Catwoman, did she say anything else?” He places Green Arrow and Arsenal on his own internal map, and moves over the platforms inside of the Cave, towards the larger plane he has available, opening the hangar with the depression of a singular button. He climbs in through the door and walks to the pilot’s seat, starting the machine up with a heavy, thrilling whine that causes the bats in the Cave to wake up, swarm around him: they usher him up and out of the darkness, spilling across the evening air as he lifts up, shoots off towards the city itself.

Selina “She said I should get out, she had a date, and she had to go for the parade.” Isis yowls at her, batting her leg until Selina looks at her. Isis waves her paw in the direction of the parade, pulling Selina’s attention. “She’s got the duck.”

Roy is barely out of breath when he turns to Ollie, still moving down the crowded streets, turning his body so not to run into anyone, stop his forward momentum. “How d’ya think we should handle this, GA?”

Mari “What duck?” Mar’i calls out into her comm, following the parade from the back as she flies into Gotham. “I don’t see a—” And then, at the edge of her line of vision, yellow head barely poking above the other floats, the duck is there. “I can take it out,” she says, voice level and calm. “I’ve benchpressed lighter; it wouldn’t take any time at all.”

Ollie is doing the same long-legged lope as they keep pace with each other and move through crowds more interested in keeping their prime views of the parade or keeping their kids corralled. “I’m persona /most/ non grata at the police station right now,” he says, “so you and me are gonna handle crowd wrangling for now. Selina seems to have a claw on the matter and B’s on the way — this is their town, let them take the lead.” Ollie angles himself around one of the paper-mache statues created and donated by high school kids from across the city, lip snarling up when the crown of golden thorns on its plasticky pink head scrapes along his jaw. “Drug busting is one thing; Gotham City public mayhem involving Harley Quinn? Not our bailiwick.”

Roy grunts at Ollie, his version of agreeing, and sidesteps a little kid: Roy gets up, onto his tip toes, and turning his hips sharply with a bright little ‘woof’ as he just barely manages to not knock the kid over; he grins back at the boy, who stares at him with wide eyes, a smile at the sight of the domino and the getup. Roy turns, and continues to run, faster, before they come up on the street they need to turn: “Hang a left!” He shouts at Ollie, then, looking up, speaks at Mar’i, speaking over public comms. “Goddamn it’s sexy when you talk like that.”

Ollie shears off to the left, leaving the road for a moment to delve into the crowd in search of the ripple of motion he’d spotted, bow at the ready. But it’s nothing big, it’s two dudebros already sloshed and stupid, trying to pick a fight with some other people, and Ollie isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or not that when they see him, bow in hand, the two troublemakers instinctively cover their throats and back off. Scowling, Green Arrow weaves back through the crowd to find Roy again.

Bruce is halfway to where he needs to go, when he speaks to the group at large: “Keep surveillance on Quinn and the Duck, try to get a visual on her.” He switches off his comms, pressing a button that connects to a satellite so he can hardline to Commission Gordon. She picks up on the second ring, the noise in the background telling Bruce that he is at the parade. He curses, silently, before continuing: “Commissioner, there is an imminent threat on the parade goers, from Harley Quinn and whoever she is associating with.” He pauses, for a split second, the gravity evident in that fraction of time that he loses, how important it is that she understand: “The children at the parade were specifically mentioned.” The woman doesn’t curse, but Bruce can hear it in the timbre of her voice as she begins to speak to those closest to her, hanging up the phone on the edge of the word “secure.” He turns back on the comms. “The police are on the move.”

Mari resists the urge to glance down to try and spot Roy but can’t fight the wave of anxiety and nausea that hits her when he speaks. So instead of a sassy retort, Mar’i settles for flying up past the duck, several buildings ahead so she has both an unobstructed view and and unobstructed path for when Bruce gives the call to take the duck down.

Selina tries to get a little closer to the parade across the rooftops. From this distance, she could, conceivably, jump onto a parade float, but she’s not quite that suicidal. Instead, she pulls out her phone again. [TEXT to Harley] Hey Harl! How’s your date going?

Harley!!! stops and pulls out her phone when it buzzes: from where Selina is, it is obvious when one of the two twins—Dum or Dee, one can’t be sure from this distance—stops and pulls out an iPhone, attempting to answer back and finding it nearly impossible.

Selina taps her comm. “Found her. She’s a Tweedle-whatever.”

Mari frowns. “Then who’s driving the duck?”

Harley!!! dances inside of her Tweedle-whatever suit, alongside the the parade to the sounds of a remix of the Black Eyed Peas’ ‘I Gotta Feeling.’

Harley!!! pulls her hand back and inside of the suit—it suddenly stops moving, like someone had pulled the plug on it; a child in the audience begins to cry with the abrupt nature of the stop—and responds to Selina. [TXT; to Selina] You didn’t go, didja?

Jason glowers down at the parade from his spot on a building far above it. He’s not exactly in costume, the helmet left behind for the moment, figuring it’s a little too early for patrol. The only reason he’s even up atop the buildings is because of the crowd. Too many people, too much noise. He might as well just wait for the parade to pass.

Selina smirks slightly. [TEXT] Did you really expect me to?

Harley!!! [TXT, to Selina] i had hoped maybe

Harley!!! [TXT, to Selina] don’t let your curiosity get the better of you, kitty

Selina [TEXT] That bad, huh?

Harley!!! shoves her arms through the hole again and begins to dance again, gyrating wildly to music.

Dickiebird lands softly on the roof behind Jason. “Hey. Enjoying the parade?”

Cass may or may not have been spying on Jason from a few rooftops over. But once Dick joins him she figures she should as well. Settling down beside Dick, she lets her legs dangle over the edge of the roof, waving above the bustling crowd. This was how she preferred to watch a parade.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Not really my idea of a good time,” he says shaking his head. Casually, he glances back at Dick and then down at Cass. “You two just here to watch or is something up?”

"I’ve got a clear shot on the duck," Mar’i replies. "I can send it right into the river, if need be. It’s only two blocks from the riverfront right now."

Dickiebird tilts his head as Bruce and Mar’i speak, but looks over at Jason. “Harley’s down there. Apparently, so is Catwoman…somewhere.”

Alfred tilts his head when he hears Bruce’s voice crackle in his ear. He doesn’t lift his hand, but strains to hear what is being said, glancing ahead at Damian. The boy is in front of him, watching the procession of the big cats from the Gotham zoo, down the street.

Jason groans and runs a hand through his hair. “Just fucking perfect.” He reaches into his pocket and idly picks at the mask he’s got there, though he doesn’t put it on just yet. “Any idea what the plan is?”

Cass sits up straighter, paying more attention to the crowd now as Bruce and Mar’i’s voices carry over the comms. “Something with the duck.” she scowls, already dreading the stupidly gargantuan portion of the parade.

"No." Batman’s voice and tone are curt, sharp. "Monitor the situation, but until there is any movement on their part, do nothing." He stops, shifts to Selina. "Catwoman, any more communication from Quinn?"

Dickiebird shakes his head. “Not really. Just to keep watch and be ready.” He makes a face at the mention of the duck. “I can’t wait till that thing’s scrap metal.”

Damian Wayne is standing on the barricade, feet in between the bars and his top half extended over the top as he strains to see the animals in the parade. When he hears the warnings over the comm, he glances back at Pennyworth, acknowledging what they’ve both heard, before rolling beneath the barricade and integrating himself with the children at the front of the parade.

Mari nods her head before realizing no one can see her doing that. “Roger that,” she responds, focusing her eyes in on the duck and the dancing figure nearby.

Selina pulls up her messages. “She knows I didn’t leave. She just suggests I be careful with my curiosity.”

Jason sighs and pulls out his mask, stepping away from the side of the building to press it into place. His hands go to the guns hidden in his jacket as he goes back to scanning the crowds. “Too many people,” he mutters under his breath.

Alfred pulls out his phone, a newer model Wayne Tech device, along with his reading glasses. Tucking his jacket over his forearm, he perches the spectacles on the top of his nose and begins to look at the phone as if reading messages: in truth, he is pulling up the secure application that connects him into the Computer’s mainframe, monitoring where Bruce is, what model plane he’s taken, and where the rest of the members of their family are. He moves over to Damian, and speaks: “Young Master Wayne, I do believe those are the tigers there that you had wanted to see.” He pitches his voice over the crowd, angling his head in the direction of the large cages, as he continues to pull through the incoming information feeds.

Unlike the others, Tim is keeping a closer eye on the parade. Along mothers and fathers and their children, he walks through the crowds in his civilian clothes attempting to get to the back of the parade. “No suspicious movements from the spectators so far,” he decides to share through the comms. He squeezes through a group of teenagers and gets on his toes to measure the distance left to the back of the parade. They have to cover every part, after all, and with most of his siblings scattered at the start, he thinks it best to get a move on.

Roy lifts his hand and depresses the comm in his ear, switching over to the broadcast that goes directly to Nightstar, singing even as he continues to flat-out run, angling away from Green Arrow and down an alleyway: “..Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes ‘cause I need to know..”

Batman arrives over downtown Gotham, at exactly two minutes since he had last spoken, but does not depart from the plane, bringing the plane up to the cloud’s edge, hovering there. He depresses the autopilot button, and unbuckles himself from the pilot’s seat, stepping towards the back of the plane. Unsnapping the edge of the gauntlet computer, he switches his own comm straight to Selina, his voice a burr in the shell of her ear: “..is this the first she’s contacted you since she came back above ground?”

Cass fusses with her own mask, mumbling her own agreement with Jason. With a quick press to Dick’s side, she heads off their rooftop, moving from building to building wanting to get closer to the back of the parade, “Where are you?” she asks Tim over the comms as she travels.

Damian Wayne falls back behind the children as they march forward in the procession, slowing his pace until he’s closer to the tiger cages. The parade marshals admonish him here and there to keep up with the others, but they’re mostly occupied with keeping the smaller children from burning each other with sparklers. “The cages aren’t secure,” he speaks over the comm, voice low as he tries to avoid drawing attention to himself in his civilian clothing. “They’re going to release the tigers into the crowd.”

Batman pauses in listening to Robin, before changing the channel, listening to the police scanner for a moment. Then, he switches back over to the main broadcast and speaks to the rest of the family: “The Mayor doesn’t want to move yet on clearing the parade.. Robin, can you secure the cages?” To the rest, he states: “Spread yourselves out along the parade, so our firepower isn’t isolated to one section.”

Jason glances back at Dick, and idea taking shape in his head. “Gotta get the people away from there. Got an idea for a headline, big bird. Gun carrying lunatic disrupts parade, crows flee in terror,” he says, pulling his guns from his jacket. “I drop down there and get people running before whatever’s gonna happen does.”

Selina adjusts the strap holding her whip, giving herself something to handle while she watches. “The first I’ve received. You think it means something?” It’s half a question, but not really.

Damian Wayne watches one of the handlers pacing between the cages, sweat beading visibly on the man’s neck. “I’ll take care of it,” he replies, clipped.

Dickiebird rolls his eyes. “And get shot or worse before it goes down?” His tone is lecturing, and so is the look he gives Jason, but then he shrugs. “As long as you can make them run from the parade, have fun. And don’t get hurt.”

Tim looks up ahead whilst walking as if not hearing Cassandra’s soft voice. He runs a hand through his hair, fingers pushing bangs behind his ear where they press on the comm to reply. “See the little girl on her father’s shoulders? Raven black hair, two pigtails, wearing a red Hello Kitty shirt? Passing her right now,” he tells her as he slithers through the rowdy public.

Jason flashes Dick a grin over his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. You worry too much.” He lifts up one of his guns. “Got ‘em loaded with rubber bullets, even if I’ve gotta shoot off a few rounds, no one’ll get hurt.”

Batman goes back to Selina. “I don’t know what it means,” he admits. “Harley’s last stay in Arkham, it..” He doesn’t finish, and instead, switches back, abruptly: “Red Hood,” he begins, his voice menacing. “There are close to ten thousand people down there, along the length of this street. You start firing weapons, we’ll be lucky if they aren’t all killed in the panic to get away.” A beat, and then, to everyone: “We do. Not. Move. Until we know what Quinn’s plan is.”

Dickiebird “I can never worry enough.” He grins. “What a good brother you are!” He takes a few steps towards the edge of the building, trying to gauge where to go when Batman’s voice bites through his comm. “Yes, sir.”

Mari is still crouched on a brick ledging, using one hand to hold herself up while her legs remain crouched underneath her—like a cat preparing to pounce. She smiles faintly at Roy’s singing, but doesn’t reply, instead staring over to where the animal cages are coming into view.

Jason curses under his breath, tapping his comm aggressively. “And if we don’t get people outta there, they’re dead meat anyway. If we get ‘em moving before she starts something, they’ll at least have a chance.”

Cass eventually she spots the little girl up ahead of her, pigtails bobbing up and down as her father bounces her on his shoulders, “I see.” she replies to Tim, looking forward through the crowd to find him. And it doesn’t take much longer, his habit of brushing his bangs away from his face giving him away to her. She stops once she finds him, deciding to stay a handful of blocks behind as Batman had instructed. Spread out.

Andy emerges from the basement of a corner brownstone, towards the tail end of the parade, onto one of the side streets where a few of the GCFD firetrucks are lined up, getting water from the hydrant to fill their on-board tanks. He is dressed like Uncle Sam, down to the hat.

Tim resists the urge to roll his eyes at Batman’s growling words. “Understood,” he replies obediently just as Cassandra confirms to have found him. He smiles a little, eyes secretly searching for her. His smile widens when he can’t find her within three tries.

Selina frowns at Bruce’s unfinished sentence. She’ll have to ask him later, or try and get Harley to tell her what exactly happened. She watches the movement around the tiger cage, her focus drawn by the cats. If any part of this involved them, that’s her territory. She leaps down to a fire escape a little closer to the parade. The second anything happens, she’ll be ready.

Damian Wayne continues to loiter on the periphery of the parade until the cages are rolling past him, the locks visible on the doors but not clamped in place. Damian searches for the laziest looking tiger, one spread out and sleeping on the floor of her enclosure with no interest in the proceedings around her. He bolts past the handlers walking alongside the cages and springs upon the tiger’s cage, wrenching the door open and standing himself inside. He’s still, poised there for only a few seconds as the tiger half-opens her eyes and looks at him, before someone heaves him bodily from behind, slams the cage shuts, and the handlers begin screaming at each other about who did or didn’t lock the cage. They disperse, checking the others and finding them compromised as well, as the man Damian spotted initially slinks into the crowd. “In the Duck Dynasty cap,” he speaks lowly again into the comm as an officer drags him back to Pennyworth. “He walked off toward the complex the parade is passing now.”

Alfred thanks the officers profusely before he turns to scold the boy, the words that slide from his mouth nothing close to admonitions: “..the nearest warehouse, young Master, is six blocks to the south on Robinson,” he frowns, as if moving into the ‘and if your father were here’ bit of the scolding, his hand curled around Damian’s shoulder, pushing him back and away from the parade, his fun for the day over. “When you are ready, young sir.”

Batman moves inside of the plane to the hangar door, and punches the button that opens the belly of it, as he stares down at the city below him. It glitters now, as it does in the night, but there is something that lurks in his the deepest pit of his gut looking down at the stream of cars and floats. He moves, and without another word, moves from the plane, dropping like a stone into the sky before he extends his cape, angling himself and dropping down besides Jason.

Damian Wayne is delivered to Alfred by the very disapproving officer; as she questions him, Damian makes his eyes widen and well with tears while insisting he only wanted to see the tigers. His expression shifts the moment she relents and leaves them to make sure all the cages are secured now, and he hurries alongside Alfred toward the car. “I would have liked to see the fireworks, but that was an acceptable compromise.”

Roy stops midway through the parade, panting a bit, looking around for Green Arrow who is now on the opposite side of the street. The parade is going on as expected, with the clashing songs changing with sickening slurs of notes and tempos as the floats drive by. The police are out in full force, with their lights flashing, the GCFD’s firetrucks moving down slowly. Roy watches the motion, humming to himself as he switches back over to the main comms: “Hey, Nightwing, do you remember that one fourth of July where we almost got eaten? Or blown up?” He grins at a kid who walks by him, staring at the domino and the bow.

Roy spots a sign on the back of a firetruck, written in spray paint: WHAT STARTS WITH ‘F’ AND ENDS WITH ‘UCK?’

Jason tenses up as the familiar figure lands near him, a little too close for his liking. He keeps his eyes fixed on the parade below as he tucks his guns back into the holsters at his hips, hands lingering there, fingers drumming against the metal.

Roy frowns at the graffiti. “Not exactly the most kid friendly joke,” he states to no one, his stomach turning over.

Damian Wayne suits up and leaves Pennyworth at the warehouse, electing to grapple back across the rooftops as the parade continues below.

Dickiebird snorts. “Was that the one with the evil Statue of Liberty or the man-eating eagle. They’ve started to blur, I think.” The faint strains of Sousa float up to where he’s perched, and he shudders slightly. “No, wait, that was with the mad tuba player, right?”

Andy assists the firefighters in lifting a few huge duffel bags onto the back of the truck, before walking back to lifting a wrench to one of the hydrants, putting his weight into turning the flow of water off.

Ollie circles around another of the paper mache statues (this one a bear wearing a little satellite dish on its head) and spots the message on the rear of the firetruck a moment or two after Roy does, and he frowns too, their identical expressions bracketing the vehicle as it makes its way down the street. Sounding the clan whistle again, Ollie breaks into a jog to get to the firetruck, telling Roy in the comms, “We better get ready to deal with getting rid of some dangerous shit.”

Batman looks down at the parade, not at Red Hood, as he moves over to the edge of the building, flipping over his sensors to look at the parade, attempting to look through the duck, but finding that what is his answer to Clark’s x-ray vision doesn’t get through the lead-lined vehicle. He growls, low, under his breath. “Catwoman, I need you to attempt to lure Quinn out of the parade.”

Damian Wayne touches down near Nightwing and crouches beside him, looking over the lapel of the building.

Selina “On it.” She jumps down to a relatively uncrowded alley and pulls out her phone again. [TEXT] So how come you wouldn’t come to Paris with me? We can even bring Pammie~

Dickiebird touches Damian’s shoulder lightly, both in greeting and in happiness at seeing him. “Enjoying the parade?”

Tim slows his pace as the crowd before him expands. He stops and looks around, confirming his speculation of having reached the very end of the parade. “I´ve reached the back, any sign of-” He falls silent quite suddenly when recognizing a person through the corner of his eyes. The images of the apartment fire rush through his head as he watches the man close a spray on a hydrant. A dreadful feeling takes a hold of him. “I’ve spotted someone suspicious at the back of the parade: a man appears to be sabotaging a hydrant. I don’t believe water’s what’s coming out,” Tim reports as he hurries forwards. “Cassandra, can you see him?” he asks knowing she is somewhere near.

KSpenz isn’t fond of parades, and this one is no exception. She’s up in the Monitor Womb, scowling at every single screen in her line of sight—an almost overwhelming mess of rectangles, Leaguer and ally upon Leaguer, splashed over each other in the workspace—and for a second she squeezes her eyes shut before focusing again.

the joker ‘s laugh suddenly erupts from inside the duck as the parade dwindles down, to a slow stop. A few of the parade workers begin to look around, in confusion.

Ollie “If Nightstar’s around, you two’re the best options to help move the kids somewhere safe. Keep on the situation. There’s a community centre two blocks east where you can herd them if things start going south—”

the joker “HELLO, GOTHAM,” the voice speaks. “HOW IS EVERYONE FEELING TODAY?”

Dickiebird freezes, his whole body tensing for movement at that all too familiar laugh.

Ollie freezes for a moment as he’s hauling himself up into the back of the firetruck, then snaps out of it and shoves his way inside.

KSpenz Though really, more windows would be actually better in this situation—because of course it’s the Fourth of July, and nearly everyone else in the goddamn League is dealing with fireworks gone haywire or counterterrorism (try telling that to Triple G) or, you know, Friday morning, and she can’t reroute anyone else to Gotham—which is bad, considering what’s just come over the main screen on the parade. “oh, fuck me.”

Jason scans the parade again, looking for anything out of the ordinary. His eyes land on Harley’s character, narrowing at the strange dance. At the laugh, he goes completely still, sucking in a sharp, harsh breath. Shaking his head, he takes a step back, away from the edge of the building. “It’s him,” he mutters, the fear in his voice unmistakable.

Tim stops at the sound of that awful laughter, feeling his pulse quicken.

Cass watches as the parade slows, her heart pounding in dread and anticipation.

Damian Wayne leaps over the edge of the building, cape extended and throwing darts in hand. He’s running toward the duck the moment his boots touch the pavement.

Dickiebird “Robin, no!” He leaps off the building after him, a wingding in his hand just in case.

Batman looks over at Jason, near-instantly, and he utters, low, words burbling with the broil of fury in his blood. “He won’t get to you,” he states, and then moves, dropping off the side of the building, boots tacking into the bricks as he slides down in an eruption of red dust. The crowd responds with cheers to the question.

the joker continues, his voice distorted over the speakers, the duck’s streamer-sparkler moving in the air, as the turrets on the firetrucks turn towards the crowd. “HOT ISN’T IT?” The crowd grows more excited, at the idea of the cool spray. “I CAAAAAN’t hear YOU!”

Selina despairs of all Gotham citizens as she pushes off from the alley wall, pulling her whip off of her hip as she runs.

Ollie takes in the duffel bags stacked in the back of the firetruck — no firemen riding in there, just the ones in the front cab waving to the crowd for show — and moves to open one, carrying it with him as he keeps heading towards the front of the truck.

the joker chuckles. “THEN HOW ABOUT WE RAISE THE TEMPERATURE A BIT IN HERE, GOTHAM?” And all at once the firetrucks begin to spray, every single one of them pointing their hoses down at the sidewalks, at the dip of the sidewalk, and when the crowd responds, his voice switches over to the private comms: “..try to keep your.. eheh heh, cool, Bats.”

Batman pushes his way through the crowd, his boots sliding to a stop when he realizes that one: the Joker is speaking in his ear, and two: what is coming out of the firetrucks isn’t water.

Harley!!! ‘s left arm stops moving, as she pulls her hand inside to text back: now the character seems to look as if it’s had a stroke, only one side moving to the music. [TXT] got a job to do hunny… speaking of which…

Roy speaks back to Green Arrow, through the comms: “Yeah.. I just hate the fact that there’s so many.. I mean, jesus, Gotham’s birthrate double or triple?” Kids. It’s all that Roy can see, as he looks around, and he exhales. “Alright, GA, gonna start trying to get the ragamuffins up onto the sidewalk.”

Damian Wayne nods, tugging against the hood bunched around his neck; it’s not so comfortable in the July heat. “It’s more interesting this way than their usual procession, I think.”

Harley!!! pushes her hand back through the hole and turns around, gesturing to the long line behind her with motions that look suspiciously like a modified YMCA dance move.

Selina frowns at the text, and speaks through the comm. “She says she’s got a job to do.” [TEXT] Let me in on the secret, huh? We’re friends, aren’t we? Or is your man more important.

Selina glances up when she spots motion again, watching Harley’s dance. “I don’t like this….”

Dickiebird chuckles. “Yeah, parades without mass threats to peace are too overrated.”

Batman clenches his teeth so hard that the grit can be heard from Jason’s end, as he announces, over the comms: “Get ready to move on the—”

KSpenz “It’s like herding cats,” hisses Kate, staring in despair at the too-packed streetplan of Gotham, trying to work out a pattern that gets the least amount of people trampled in collateral damage, because the Joker’s punchline will hit any second now.

KSpenz A good joke, of course, is all in the timing.

Jason watches Bruce go, eyes wide behind his mask. He should go after him, leap into the fray like he was so ready to just a few moments ago, but now… it’s like he can’t move, his legs too shaky to even take a step forward. When the clown’s voice sounds in his ear, he’s sure is heart just about stops for a second. “He’s in the comm, how the hell is he in the comm,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone that might actually be able to hear him.

Roy is still on the ground, when the hoses start up, and when the wind shifts, the smell of it hits his nose and he feels his stomach fill up with a burning-cold acid. His tongue is thick in his mouth, he can’t get the words out fast enough: “Gasoline,” he states, and then, louder, half shouting as he reaches down and picks up two kids by their arms. “It’s fucking GASOLINE!”

Dickiebird almost trips when Joker speaks through the comms— How did he get that who did he get that from how did did he— but he catches himself just in time to hear Roy shout. He turns towards the crowds as the liquid rains down. “Everyone leave, now!”

Damian Wayne halts, Nightwing close behind him, and looks over his shoulder as the firetrucks douse the unwitting crowds. He grits his teeth and plows forward, jabbing his knives into the underbelly of the duck and elevating them, one-by-one, to scale up the vehicle’s rounded side.

Tim “Move! This isn’t water!” he tells the people surrounding him while trying not to get hit. Tim rushes towards the nearest firetruck to stop the hose.

Batman feels the control slipping out of his hands under the creaking grind of his teeth and his voice booms over the comms, and across the crowds: “GET THEM ALL OFF THE STREET.”

Dickiebird shouts over his shoulder as he tries to push back the crowd. “Robin! Rebreather!”

Cass shudders as the clown infests the comms. She drops down from her rooftop, and into the crowd. “It’s not water!” she shouts to the crowd around her, “MOVE!”

Mari That’s the funny thing about heat: it makes smells ten, twenty, thirty times stronger, boiling them instantly into one’s nostrils and throat. It doesn’t even take a second for Mar’i to register the smell, and for the briefest moment she’s frozen, legs bound together again with some extradimensional power, Ollie standing over her and her consuming his strongest trigger finger. Mar’i sputters, and throws herself up onto the nearest rooftop, looking around for—“Water tower,” she gasps over comms. “The residential water towers. Maybe they’re—?”

Talia speaks over the comms as well, speaking without pause: “..he’s accessed the signal through the satellite.”

Dickiebird swears under his breath. “Oh, great. Anyone else wanna join in this conversation?”

Damian Wayne dangles by one arm, boots scrabbling against the duck, as he plucks the rebreather from his belt and places it between his teeth. He begins his assent toward the cockpit again, pausing when he hears his mother’s unexpected voice.

Jason manages to snap himself out of it, though his hands still shake even as he leaps from the building to the alley beside it. He spots someone about to lite a cigarette, oblivious of what he’s just been covered with and darts forward, knocking it from his hand. “Trust me, you don’t wanna do that. Go home.” His attention goes to the rest of the crowd he’s just charged through. “All of you, move,” he yells. His brow furrows as Talia’s voice sounds in his ear, but he keeps going, trying tAlfred moves over to the car, the armored Bentley and steps into the vehicle, draping his jacket upon the passenger seat, neatly tucking his glasses into the pocket before he throws the car into reverse. He drives the car backwards, through the somewhat empty street, eyes pointed behind the car, an arm extending over the back seat to watch where he is going, the black car going in reverse at the same speed and with more accuracy than most front-facing drivers.

Talia doesn’t respond to Dick, and instead, continues to speak: “I’m attempting to block the signal.”

Selina is also trying to make the crowd move, but apparently Gotham citizens are less likely to listen to an ex-criminal. Who would’ve guessed? However, she has much less patience than the heroes. Her whip cracks against the ground in front of her, several families almost jumping out of the way. “Run home, now.”

KSpenz It’s almost pretty, in a terrible way, how the realization and panic hits the crowd in waves, less the heroes and more the fumes, almost overwhelming at ground zero—in fact, a couple of people look about near to passing out. “Get them down the side streets, there’s a bottleneck at Fifth and Lincoln,” she grits through the headset before processing what Talia’s said, and flicks open a window to join Talia’s hunt for Joker’s hijack of the comms.

Batman looks up at the sky, where Mar’i is speaking, and states: “Colgate Heights,” is all he says, even as he runs at the nearest firetruck. One, two, three punches shatters the glass, and he reaches inside, hauling the driver out. Bruce throws the man, as if he weighed nothing, out of the window and onto the asphalt, before climbing in and shutting off the spray of the hoses.

Ollie can smell the gasoline fumes fill the truck and curses roundly before clambering up on the roof and jamming arrows into the turrets. There’s still fuel sprayed out among the crowds, though, even with the spray turned off.

Jason groans when people seem hesitant to listen and his hands go to the guns at his belt. That seems to get their attention a bit more at least. “Right,” he grunts in response to the voice in his ear. “That way, now.” And he pulls a gun from the holster just to make sure people get the idea.

Ollie swings back down into the truck and investigates the tanks quickly before getting on the comm. No harm sharing this info even if the Joker hears it, since he already knows: “Foam spray reservoirs are empty on the trucks.”

Tim despite feeling a tad unnerved by the fact that not only the joker but Talia also managed to hack into their private comms, Tim focusses on the task at hand. He can see Cassandra outside urging the crowd to leave and he reaches for the buttons that disable the hose. Success. He doesn’t waste time, moving to the next vehicle.

KSpenz “No guns, nothing that could spark—”

Damian Wayne crests above the wing of the duck, rolling himself over the side until he can stand upright and stomp toward the cockpit in the head. He doesn’t look to see who is actually inside; he mounts an explosive charge near the center, scurries back several feet, and shields his face with his cape when he remote-detonates it.

Ollie leaves that truck — he’s run out of boxing glove arrows, can’t use that trick to stopper up any more of the trucks — and between him and Roy, they’ve only got enough flame-dampening foam ammo between them to cover a couple of blocks’ worth of sidewalk. o force people back and away from the street.

Harley!!! moves over to the nearest firetruck, sidestepping Robin’s ascent, and grabs an ax from the truck Batman had disarmed. She whips off the head of the suit and walks over to the animal cages, ducking behind one, waiting: and when the charge goes off, the Duck explodes. The head whistles as it shoots off in the air.

Cass turns to face the nearest firetruck, the hose suddenly shut off thanks to Tim. She continues to urge the crowd on, who at her initially appearance seemed skeptical, but at the scent of the gasoline they change their tune. “Keep going!” she urges just as the Duck explodes.

Batman looks over when the Duck explodes, and growls into the comms: “Get away from the trucks, if the fire reaches them and the tanks are full—” He doesn’t continue to elaborate, leaving the rest to their imagination: bombs, half a dozen of them.

Harley!!! laughs, when the gasoline is lit, instantly, with the blaze, and moves around the cages, and swings the ax: the locks splinter, snapping off the sides, but the animals do not move, suddenly cowed by the inferno that starts up around them.

Damian Wayne bellows loud and ragged, his scream ripping across the comm as the explosion throws him across the street and through the window of a nearby building. Not exactly the outcome he intended, but, he reasons before he loses consciousness, the duck is down.

Ollie The explosion causes screams and yells from the crowd as they start moving in a swooping herd, the initial scatter pattern coalescing into a mass of movement. People near the front and middle of the crowd start falling, others running right over them.

Jason “I’m not shooting,” he complains. Still, the unfamiliar voice in his ear has a point, so he switches the guns for a knife, waving it rather enthusiastically to try to get his point across. He curses under his breath and ducks instinctively when the duck blows. Swearing creatively in several different languages, he redoubles his effort, now full on trying to shove people back and away from the chaos.

Ollie had started heading towards the explosion, but the wave of the crowd forces him to clamber up onto a building awning, making his way along the wall and facades towards the flaming carcass of the duck.

KSpenz curses at the explosion, because that was exactly NOT what she had been looking for. “Yeah, well, you see how well anyone ever listens to me,” she mutters in the general direction of the comm, sort of in response to Jason, but she’s too distracted by chasing shadows—her red and Talia’s grey branching out through subroutines and servers and redirects, a tangling tree as they look for the weakness in the security. It’s taking too fucking long.

Dickiebird launches forward to shield some citizens from the blast, a little less from his own motivation than from the blast. As soon as they’re up, he runs back towards the fire, throwing several extinguishing pellets at it.

Roy nocks his arrows, one after the other: he attempts to douse the places the flames are traveling up and down the streets, trying to create fire-stops: the Rangers did similar things with fires that got too close to the housing developments, and he shoots at spaces of concrete, asphalt, attempting to stop the flames from jumping, continuing down the domino-effect that the firetrucks create.

Tim halts at the sudden explosion, already halfway into another firetruck when Batman’s warning sets his body back in motion. He jumps out to yell for people to leave when a fireman marches his way. In ciostume or not, it doesn’t take much for Tim to dodge the driver’s left hook and return his violent greeting with a swift uppercut, knuckles busting the man’s nose.

Selina gives up on the people and instead runs for the animals, taking a similar route to Ollie’s as she goes. She drops down a little ways from Harley, whip at the ready. “Is it really so fun, Harl?”

Ollie perches on a fire escape and tugs out his cellphone, ditching his League comm and calling Kate. “See if there’s any construction sites near the route,” he says, voice loud and rushed. “Dumptrucks, cement trucks, loads of dirt, gravel, anything you can reroute or commandeer and send our way!”

Talia ‘s voice is soft, over the comms: she does not speak to Kate in private. “I’m looking for energy signatures: the computer power he would need to get into their lines would be significant.”

KSpenz curses again as she has to pick up her phone—thanks, Ollie—with one of her hands. “Two seconds, got a quicker idea, sweetie,” she says, then drops the phone onto the chair as she brings up the Gotham water pipeline management system with that hand. God bless Bruce’s paranoia—and the fact that she has enough of a level of clearance to—

Mari nods once before she’s off, moving in some mixture of flight and parkour as she heads down the block towards Colgate Height’s network of residential water towers. The explosion pauses her movement only momentarily, as she glances over her shoulder. Then, she’s moving again, straight-up flying now. She goes to the largest of the three water towers first, a weird sort of logic in her mind, and wraps her arms around the thick base, digging her fingertips in. “HEADS UP,” she roars, already seeing smoke and flames from the direction she’s left as she turns, crouches on her heels, then takes off back towards the parade.

Damian Wayne stirs upon hearing his mother’s voice, even though it isn’t addressing him. He groans as he sits up, head ringing, and fires a line from the window he crashed through, lowering himself to the street to help with crowd control.

Batman is on his third firetruck when the flames catch up to him. They do not catch onto any of the materials of his suit, they are all flame-retardant, but the heat makes sweat break out along all exposed skin, under the heavy armor and he snaps over the comms: “Keep the casualties down to the minimum!” He does not acknowledge Talia’s voice, and glances down the line of the street, his brain whirring as he attempts to make sense of the carnage, the motive. Lowering his head, he takes a running leap at the next firetruck—-the tires melted—and jumps onto the side, gauntlets digging into the metal like rock-climbing spikes, as he climbs inside. The driver is cowering inside of the heated metal, too scared to move, and Bruce reaches down, hauling him up. His voice booms like another explosion, and he slams the man against the siding, the heat radiating from the side like an open fire. “Tell me what he WANTS.”

KSpenz Hydrants along the parade route start, one at a time, to go flying into the air—unfortunately the ones furthest from the duck, it’s true, but heading that general direction—from water overload, geysers raining down. “Nightstar, get to the west side, this is gonna take a while from this direction—”

Andy at the end of the parade, moves over to one of the firetrucks, grabbing an ax as well, and moves towards Black Bat, taking a swing at her head from behind.

Jason spots Damian making his way out of the building and works his way over, still ushering people down side streets and away from the danger. Reaching his side, his eyes flick over the boy. “You alright, Robin?” he asks even as he continues directing the crowd.

Roy spots the movement from the corner of his eye, and lifts a hand, cupping it around his mouth and hollers at Cass in his best calling-Lian-for-supper voice: “BEHIND YOU!”

KSpenz nods at the comm in the direction Talia’s voice came from, then, before making a face at herself for doing so, for fuck’s sake. “Only a small number of processors in the Northeast can handle that amount of decryption,” she agrees, comm shifting and voice equally soft. “Unless he’s spread it out over several sites.”

Ollie jams his phone back in his pocket and rises from his crouch on the railing, jaw tight as he nocks one of his precious few flame retardant arrows and aims it at the flaming heap of what was once the duck float. He has just enough time to take a breath before the heavy nozzle of a hose snaps around his ankle and yanks, and Ollie has just enough presence of mind to pinch his grip on the fletching tight before he falls down heavily to the street, twisting in midair to land on his left side. Breath knocked out of him, he shakes his head to clear it as he rolls to hands and knees, only to fetch up a knee under his chin from one of the drivers.

Cass her urging isn’t necessary any longer once the duck is obliterated, the crowd around her rushing away. She turns her attention to the firetruck Tim had been working on, just about to move to him to help when Andy approaches her from behind. She ducks at Roy’s shout, just missing the ax, and swings out her legs to catch against Andy’s. “Really.” she growls.

Tim is also on the move as he sees Andy running in Cass’ general direction. He heaves a sigh when she dodges and runs over to help her by keeping Andy on the ground, knees digging onto his arms and hands prying the weapon away.

Damian Wayne is a little dazed, swinging his scimitar back and forth at the lingering parade-goers as he orders them to evacuate. He blinks at Red Hood three times before placing him, primarily by the gun in his hand. “Fine, yes,” he assures him.

Harley!!! grins at Selina. “Loads of it!” She sticks her tongue out at the other woman. “Ya just couldn’t stay away, couldja, kitty cat?” She twirls the ax in her hand, shaking her head. “Had to stay with Tall, Dark and Batty?”

Dickiebird heads towards Damian when he spots him, pushing his way back towards the fire and parade. “Robin, look—!” He’s blindsided by what feels like a toolbox against his head. He rolls, his head spinning from the blow, but throws three wingdings towards his attacker.

KSpenz mutes her comm so she can argue with a Gotham construction manager: yes, she wants his guys to drive towards the screaming and fire; yes, right now; yes, she’s willing to payfer that.

Selina shrugs. “Well, you never make good choices about men, so why should I?” She snaps her whip at Harley, aiming to knock the axe from her hand.

Diamond Tattoo Driver runs up fast behind Robin, swinging one arm down to latch around the boy’s waist and grab onto his belt, holding him there as he aims a punch at the side of Damian’s throat. “I’ll kill him!” he roars at Red Hood as he grabs at Damian’s wrist, intending to wrest the scimitar from him.

Talia hums a soft noise, and then explains: “..he left very little access for me, here,” she murmurs, her voice sadly amused. “Batman’s security is formidable.” There’s a note of worry there, even as the image, the unasked question is answered: she is in the Cave, using what she can to attempt to solve the riddle of how the Joker is doing what he is.

Mari is flying blind with such a large object in her grasp, so she raises her arms straight up to try and get a little vision as she flies towards the west side of the parade route, where the flames are licking up highest. They’re starting to catch the nearby apartment buildings, licking up into corner stores and fruit stands nearby. Mar’i cracks one hand straight forward in its grip, going from grasping to breaking, and peels a large chunk of thick reinforced metal away. Water evacuates immediately, crashing down the brick and mortar, spilling out onto the streets and the people still gathered there.

Harley!!! jumps back, just barely missing the whip, and she begins to pace: behind her, a tiger moves out of the way, making a mournful sound as it cannot get away from the flames.

Jason sees the driver running up behind Damian and throws a punch over his head, aiming straight for the man’s face. He gets in close, trying to wrestle Damian free of the man’s grip, punching at every bit of him he can reach. “Let go of him!”

Harley!!! makes a face at her. “Aw, are you guys on the rocks again?” She chats even as she makes the circle, back towards the truck, watching the tiger as she continues to attempt to get out.

Cass grabs at the ax, once Tim pries it from his hands, “Thanks.” she exhales to Tim, twirling the ax lightly in her hands just close enough to Andy’s head.

Damian Wayne turns upon Grayson’s audible warning, just as he’s hauled into a hard strike from the man that closes in upon him. The warning was enough to allow Damian to angle his shoulder up, the blow landing upon it rather than his vulnerable neck. He doubles over and bites the hand that fights to steal his sword, piercing the man’s flesh with his sharp baby teeth, as Todd attacks him overhead.

Selina “I think you need a ship to hit the rocks,” she says absently as she steps to the side, holding a hand out to the tiger. “Here, girl, come to me.”

KSpenz hangs up with the boss guy, having agreed to some kind of extortionate bill of sale for a bunch of gravel, noting Ollie’s a little too busy for her to call him back. She turns and focuses on Talia, then. “I can’t imagine why,” she says, though her tone’s not bitter, just stating the obvious, gently chiding almost, before she spots something on the web of red and dried-blood-meets-grey that is the visualisation of her and Talia’s search. “This server in the Gotham U particle physics lab isn’t pinging back, try it from your side?”

Andy drops like a load of bricks, and drops to the ground, rolling to get up—Uncle Sam hat going with—before he starts moving, and this time, with the ax in hand, towards his original fire hydrant.

Tim “No problem, miss,” he replies, and knows he’s standing out wearing his civilian clothes. Even ‘normal’ reckless teenagers his age wouldn’t stick around for too much longer. Even with the hood of his jacket covering his head, Tim decides to stick to crowd control for now, looking up at Cassandra he motions to the trucks. “I can´t stand out too much like this,” he tells her while shifting his weight on the man, reaching for his back pocket and revealing some tie-wraps.

Diamond Tattoo Driver “You both die today!” The man is pure muscle and although the blows stagger him enough to make him let go of Robin, he pulls an enormous bowie knife from his belt, holding it towards the two Bats. “Arrgh! ARRRRGH!” The driver smacks himself in the head, right above his left ear, three times and then seems to almost /grow/ in front of their eyes. He rushes at Red Hood, hideously fast for his girth and weight, knife aimed to slice Jason’s ribs.

Batman doesn’t get an answer from the driver, and it is soon too hot for them, so he moves to the back of the truck, kicking the door in. He hauls the man out, not wanting to dispose of him in the flames, and throws him to safety, even as he begins to stalk back towards the end of the parade.

Harley!!! sucks her teeth, pouting, even as the tiger moves towards Selina, tail flickering at sharp little jiggers at the tip, head low as she eyes the woman. Harley shakes her head. “You know, you could probably make a living doing that… Thing.” She isn’t paying attention, however, when one of the drivers moves, towards Selina, a broken piece of rebar in his hand, and Harley can barely stop herself from shouting a headsup at the other woman.

Dickiebird charges up and dodges the swung toolbox, tackling the assailant low. He throws him back towards one of the buildings, moving on after the slightly-too-satisfying thud.

Roy looks up when the water comes splashing down, and he lifts a hand to speak to Mar’i: “Nightstar, you got any more of those comin’?” He is still ushering people back, and then looks down, to where he last saw Green Arrow. “GA, you still kickin’, old man?” He nocks an arrow and shoots it a driver who is attempting to run towards him.

Jason stares as the man seems to grow. He throws up his arms in front of his chest, the blade catching his forearms, leaving them stinging and dripping red. Still, better that than his chest. Taking a leap back, he pulls a knife of his own from his belt before darting forward again, trying to jam it into the man’s wrist, aiming to make him drop his own.

Damian Wayne flings himself backward when the knife slashes between he and Todd, looking at him in surprise when the assailant begins to bulge in size— “Venom?” he mouths. He flings out a weighted bola at the attacker’s ankles when he lunges for Red Hood.

Alfred ‘s voice lifts onto the comms in an instant, as the plane Batman had brought in, left hovering in the clouds, descends: he sits at the pilot’s seat, swiftly dropping the plane, and speaks to Mar’i, voice calm and quiet. “I thought it might be prudent,” he explains, and moves with her, towards another water tower.

Cass nods in understanding to Tim’s decision to hang back, to mind the crowd as she continued on with the rest. She wants to brush a hand against his shoulder, to pull on his sweatshirt- he must’ve been hot- “Stay safe.” is all she can offer him as a civilian.

the joker singsongs, “Eenie meenie miney moe.”

Ninko lands next to Roy, already in motion with his twin katana as he makes sure the driver stays down. “If our father is breathing, then he’s still kicking, I’m sure,” he declares. “Are you finished herding? Can we join the fight?”

Selina will not tell Harley that’s she’s definitely thought about it, because now is not the time. Her focus is solely on the tiger, or else she might notice the slight hitch in Harley’s pout, or the shadow creeping up on her. The tiger, however, does notice. With a short roar, the tiger leaps at Selina, claws out, mouth open. Selina ducks and rolls— that wasn’t quite the reaction she’d expected, but the poor dear was terrified— watching as the tiger lands on the driver and starts. Well. That’s handy.

Tim nods and reaches to wipe sweat of his brow with a slight smile. “Same to you, miss,” he replies and stands once more to calm and aid lost and distressed people.

Mari tosses the now-empty container onto a sturdy roof nearby, grinning at Alfred’s voice from the plane in a way that’s half-relieved, half-excited. “Mr. Pennyworth, you’re awesome,” she sighs as she grabs the next water tower and watches Alfred use the plane’s grappling hook like a giant UFO machine on the third.

Talia comes back, after a moment, and the frown is audible in her words: “No, and the heat signatures from the non-corrupted satellites are reading a massive surge in the heat signatures.”

the joker “Catch a batling by the toe.”

Diamond Tattoo Driver takes their blows with hardly a blink. He grabs a corner of Robin’s cape as he topples, the bulk of him weirdly flexible, and catches Jason’s knife-blade in the thick, protective fabric of it. Snorting like a bull, his breath fetid and stinking of old sawdust, the driver rolls himself over, grasping up Jason’s blade to his wrist and pulling both Bats with him. He rolls over and over, like an alligator trying to crush and drown his prey.

Roy grins over at Tak—Ninko—and nods, jerking his head down at the ground, “Go ahead, kid, I’m right behind you.” He begins to pull arrow after arrow, sinking them in the shoulders and legs of those who move towards them both—there’s a lot of them, Roy notes, tucking that bit of information away for later—and shakes his head at the sound of the Joker. “Hey, Manhunter,” he says across the comms. “You and the black widow figure out where Bozo’s broadcasting from?”

Batman is almost at the end of the parade now, most of the trucks’ hoses turned off, the drivers chucked onto the street, and Batman witnesses the GCPD’s full force as they join the fight, herding spectators back and down the narrow streets.

Harley!!! arches her eyebrows when the tiger moves to get the guy—Harley winces when he screams in a high pitched little whistle when her teeth crunch down on the more.. ah, delicate bits of him—and she looks over at Selina, smile bright. “That on your résumé?”

Jason curses and tries to wrench his blade free as they tumble. Fumbling, he throws a jab with his elbow at the man’s face, the fear of igniting any still lingering gasoline stopping him going for his guns or his tazer.

KSpenz “Welp,” says Kate, thoughtfully, lips pursing. “There’s got to be some way to pull the plug…” She pauses, then flicks over to Roy. “Be polite, Arsenal. He’s using the supercomputer bank in the Chou-Wen Building at Gotham University to break down the firewalls, but no idea if he’s actually there. I doubt it. Need someone to pull the plug on the computers, though…”

the joker “If he hollers..”

Selina dusts herself off as the tiger chews. At least she’s a little calmer now. “It oughta be.”

Green Arrow had been concentrating on fighting off the driver with the half-shaved head long enough to be able to shoot off two of his four foam arrows at the duck; although the damage from the accelerants is done, at least the ignition source is now dampened. That done, he turns his attention to battling the man, engaging him elbows swinging, determined to get him down as fast as possible. With his League comm off, he doesn’t hear Roy’s hail or any of the other comm messages.

Alfred moves the ship around the Gotham airspace nimbly shifting out to the way of the GCPD/GFPD helicopters that are moving in to contain the situation from above. “Ah, pardon me.” He lifts the plane with one of the water towers, and brings it over to another section of the blaze, where it has literally eaten through the concrete, one of the buildings crumbling: he directs the water there.

Ninko darts ahead, slashing at thighs and sides, darting back, circling around; if he had a tail, it would be swishing in excitement. “We have to find the leader!” he declares rashly, racing on top of a dumpster to launch himself onto one of the attackers before running back to Roy. “That voice! It’s awful, what is it?”

Damian Wayne wriggles and slices his scimitar behind him, cutting himself free of his cape right below his neck. He rolls forward upon the release, rising to his knees and placing the tip of the sword under the man’s chin. “Don’t move.”

Dickiebird starts running towards the end of the parade. “Batman, do you hear him?” Of course he must, but Dick’s not really looking for confirmation, he’s looking for orders. He spots the brute wrestling with Damian and Jason and runs towards them, eskrima sticks out.

Roy has been following the kid with ease, but not that much ease. He’s fast, he’ll give him that: Ollie’s genes manifested in long legs, with wiry muscles.. the kid’s a natural sprinter. Roy pulls a face, the domino wrinkling. “His name’s Joker. He’s an asshole.”

Batman hears the Joker’s voice, dimly, and he wishes—wishes like he has not wished for anything in a long time—that he could haul the piece out of his ear, but he cannot. As the clown nears the end of the rhyme, his stomach twists, and he states, even as he stands in the center of the empty street—behind him, Alfred and Nightstar are dousing flames—looking around, connecting the pieces, his mind whirling. He speaks, without thinking, attempting to give himself time. “What do you want.”

Batman repeats, even as he moves, to where he had last seen Green Arrow, finding the man on the ground in the middle of a melee. He pulls an assailant off by the back of his shirt and jabs him in the face. “Red Robin, can you make it to the university. Shut down the power supply.”

Mari lets Alfred handle the largest of the building fires, and continues dowsing the small fires along the street, clearing the path to Gotham U and at the same time diluting remaining puddles of gasoline so they won’t catch fire.

the joker answers Batman, a breath slurring across the line, as he whispers: “Batsy. Batsy, is that you?”

Talia ‘s voice is firmer, when the Joker speaks to Bruce, as if she means to drown the noise out with her own words: “The main panel is in the sub-basement, the smallest building on the south end.”

Diamond Tattoo Driver “IT’S A REALLY BIG SHEEEEWWWWWW TONIGHT!” the man howls. He bites down hard, his molars crunching, and sprays out a thin, stinking mouthful of spit and blood and something threaded through it that’s neon green, splattering Robin and Red Hood before he jams his chin down, slitting his own throat on Damian’s scimitar.

Batman growls at Nightwing: “I hear him.” He moves towards the truck and slams his elbow into the glass, shattering it, even as he moves towards the hose, shutting off the last of them, before spotting the duffel bags that Oliver had intended to move. “What do you want,” he repeats, his voice sliding just under the eaves of Talia’s own, as he grabs one of the bags, kicking down the backdoor.

Tim tries to resist the GCPD that is asking him to leave the parade for his own safety and catches Batman’s request. He promptly listens, seemingly to the cop. “I’m on my way, Batman,” he responds as he runs full speed.

the joker whispers: “..I wanna finish my song, you wanna hear my song?”

Green Arrow staggers up with Batman hauling his attacker off, shaking himself all over hard to collect himself before he adds another jab for good measure. He goes over to the truck where Bruce is, a cryo arrow nocked up just in case they’ll need it in a hurry.

Jason forces himself out of the driver’s hold, eyes going wide as the blood splatters them both. He quickly drops to one knee at Damian’s side, hands going to the boy’s shoulders, looking him over for injuries, noting how dazed he seemed to be before. “Robin, you alright? Did you hit your head on something?”

Roy thinks of Lian, when the Joker speaks, and something shivers down his spine at the thought of it. He looks up towards the sky, as if to spot Mar’i, then down at his brother. He speeds up, grabbing hold of Tak’s shoulder, his bandaged fingers crinkling in the material. “Hey, kid, if I say we go, we go, capisce?”

Ninko is wearing a mask — he turns to look at Roy, directly for the first time, and its similarity to Cheshire’s is a little unsettling — and his voice is incredulous from behind it. “He’s a joker? That doesn’t sound very dangerous. But yeah, we go when you say go, Roy.”

KSpenz is trying to find really tracker software, cobble it together from bits around the League database, but this is really not her area of expertise. Talia could probably do it—Bruce could definitely, likely Tim or Damian or Mar’i—but like fuck is she letting Talia have that level of access and everyone else is Otherwise Occupied. She sighs, gives up on tweaking it, and sets it loose, almost like lighting a fuse, up the data streams currently feeding into Gotham U. Most will be dead ends, she knows, but she has to try.

Damian Wayne jerks back, the blade sliding clean from the fatal wound as he scrubs his face with his hand. “I didn’t—” he looks up at Red Hood, eyes wide behind his mask. “I didn’t kill him. He…” The boy extends his hand toward the prone assailant, then squares his shoulders, mouth twisting. “Yes, I’m fine,” he returns curtly, rubbing his fingers together to inspect the bloody spittle on his glove.

Roy corrects, gently, patting Tak on the back: “Arsenal, when we’re out here.”

Diamond Tattoo Driver had left the Bats a final present with his dying spittle: a hissing sound arises from their clothes where the threads of thin neon green liquid had landed.

Harley!!! looks up at the sky, too, then, back down at the street, at the still firetrucks, and moves over to Selina, axe still in one hand. She doesn’t hold it to swing it at her though, and grabs onto the woman’s wrist. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Ninko makes a little huff that’s half annoyance and half embarrassment. “Yes, Arsenal. Fighting names, I forgot. Mine is Ninko. If you need to call me for help.”

Jason “Hey, look at me,” he insists, grabbing at Damian’s hands. “I know you didn’t, alright? He did it himself, nothing you could’ve done.” The hissing makes him freeze. “Acid. Robin, anything with that on it, get it off, now,” he says sharply, tugging off his jacket where the majority of the green spittle had landed.

Dickiebird runs up to them, stopping as he sees the bloody sword and body, and the way Jason is looking Damian over.

Batman rips open the bag, ignoring the Joker’s question, and stares down at.. Slinkies. Dozens and dozens of slinkies, all coiled up, in different colors and shapes and sizes. His brow furrows, and he lifts one up, the thing dwarfed in his massive hand, and looks down at the bag, dropping the toy to dig, continue digging. Slinkies. Dozens of them.

Selina let’s Harley haul her away, the tiger turning to follow wherever Selina goes. “Go where?”

Damian Wayne sees the smoke rising from Todd’s clothes, and glances down at his own. “Wonderful. I suppose we ought to run about naked,” he complains, more concerned with this problem than with potential harm to himself as he sheds himself of his dissolving gear. “Sprayed us with acid,” he explains to Nightwing because one might wonder.

Tim reaches the university and searches for a way in to locate the main panel to the power supply. Tim rests a hand to the metal backdoor and tugs harshly for it to open. Once inside, he tries to remember which way to venture. He’s been here before, he tells himself, trying to remember the turns and hallways that lead down to the sub-basement.

Dickiebird glances down at the body for a second and nods. “How nice. At least you have pants.”

Green Arrow doesn’t quite lower his bow, but he does make a perplexed noise at the sight of the slinkies. “What the fuck,” he says. “They made of celluloid or something? Super-flammable? There’s gotta be something to them. It doesn’t make any damn sense otherwise.”

KSpenz “Particle physics, C27—be careful, Red,” Manhunter says to Tim’s comm. “The heat signatures Talia has are off the charts.”

Harley!!! ‘s voice is urgent, and she doesn’t stop. “Come on, comeoncomeon get off the street!”

Diamond Tattoo Driver The acid, in fact, is creating more of a thick nauseatingly yellow-green smoke than eating through their clothes anymore; it’s almost got a life of its own, making their guts churn at the whiff of it.

Talia hears Damian and speaks, softly to him. “Use the potassium hydroxide in your belt to neutralize the acid.”

Jason “Guy did it himself. Think he was on venom or something,” he says as soon as he sees Dick glance at the body. He presses a hand over his mouth and nose as the smoke starts rising. “Think that’s our cue to get the hell outta here.”

Dickiebird ‘s eyes go wide at the smoke from the acid. “Rebreathers, now!” he shouts through the comms.

KSpenz wills her boys to not just stand there and stare at what they’ve found, for fuck’s sake, though she manages to repress the urge to say as much over the comm.

Damian Wayne strips down to his under-armor, his tunic and gloves cast on the cement. It’s not unusual for Robin to demolish his outfit on patrol, however, so he’s certain Pennyworth has a spare (or two) waiting in the cave. He grunts his acknowledgement at Grayson— that his pants were spared is convenient, at least. His arms, now bare except at the elbows, are covered in lacerations faded and fresh. “Haven’t any of you got the Joker yet? Why—” He frowns as Talia speaks, hesitant to trust her even as the revolting smells rises higher.

Diamond Tattoo Driver lies there, clearly dead, but his body twitches. Then, in a grotesquely rapid pace, it starts to swell like a balloon, his clothes popping open to reveal a daisy painted over his belly as it expands.

Selina says, almost immediately after Nightwing, “Get off of the street? Why, Harley?” She knows the heroes can hear her. Well, she hopes so.

Tim tugs on his sweater and removes it with difficulty as he moves through the building. “C27, got it. It’s hot as hell in here,” he tells Manhunter, reaching said location and reaching for the doorknob. He retreats his hand feeling the heat glowing against his sweaty palm. Using the thick cloth of his sweater, Tim resists the scorching metal and pries the door open with a grunt.

Dickiebird grabs Damian and Jason and starts backing away. “Move!”

Harley!!! laughs, a full-throated, maddening sound. “‘Cause we’re gonna miss the fireworks!!”

KSpenz “Do whatever you have to do to turn it off. I’m guessing Control-Alt-Delete’s a little past working.” Kate’s slightly distracted—her tracker’s come up with something really odd, but she can’t read this code shit.

Damian Wayne watches the flower swell, resisting Grayson’s attempt to usher him— he thinks for a moment of the dirigigigi cornering he and Queen in the kitchen, and it seems amusing somehow, the daisy ballooning across this man’s carcass. He shakes his head, hard, retrieving the vial of potassium hydroxide from his belt, as his mother instructed, and pours the contents down the corpse’s throat.

Damian Wayne follows after Grayson and Todd thereafter, leaving his destroyed clothes in the street.

Batman flips over the sensor on his cowl, scanning the slinkies. He attempts to see closer, magnifying the edges of the material, and lifts his head, shaking it. “They’re not made of the normal alloy, I’m not sure if..” He looks down at the street, where the crowds are mostly gone, and listens in on Catwoman’s comm as she speaks, as Harley answers, his stomach dropping. He looks down, at the firetrucks, at the slinkies—the bags and bags of them, of everything that had been happening, of where they were, of what day it is, of the police station down the block, of Wayne Towers not far away, of Mar’i and Alfred in the sky, Arsenal and Tak on the ground, of Damian and Jason and Dick, of Talia in the control tower, of the firetrucks—and he stops cold.

Jason “Right.” Glad for his paranoia preparing him for anything, he pulls a rebreather from his belt and brings it to his lips as he darts backwards, mirroring Dick as he grabs at Damian to tug him back and away from the driver’s expanding form. “We need cover, now.”

Diamond Tattoo Driver gurgles and spasms as the chemical works through his wrecked esophagus, but it’s too late: his stomach explodes, a sharp, strong geyser of clear liquid shooting up from the middle of the daisy and drenching the three Bats completely, soaking them with … seltzer water.

Tim cracks a wry smile at Manhunter’s sense of humour. “I will fry the system if I have to,” he tells her, wondering why that hasn’t happened already with the heat radiating from the room. Upon entering the sub-basement, the air becomes incredibly humid. Tim feels the air glue to his body as he moves forward in search for the power supply. The back of his shirt is getting soaked in sweat, his bangs sticking to his wet forehead when he finds what he is searching for.

Jason curses as the man explodes, quickly trying to push Damian behind him, only to blink in surprise at the water that covers them. “Really?”

Dickiebird turns and ducks to cover Damian as the body explodes, trying to shield him from whatever…. “Oh, god, somehow this is grosser than acid,” he says, gagging slightly as he realizes what they’re covered in.

Batman looks down at the street below them, his mind whirring past, falling silent as he looks down at the asphalt, where the gasoline and the fire had eaten through, the amount of gasoline in the the storm drains, the concrete, the slinkies in the bag and the strange metal that they were made up of, and he roars over the comms, his voice tight and hard: “GET OFF THE STREET.” He turns and without thinking about what the man’s reaction might be, snaps his hand around Oliver’s armored tunic, hauling him towards the sidewalk.

Damian Wayne realizes his bare hand isn’t burning when he holds it out, palm up. “-tt- Fucking Joker.”

Green Arrow might be ornery but he’s not stupid; the Joker is Serious Shit and god knows Bruce doesn’t play around when it comes to anything to do with him, so he hauls ass onto the sidewalk. “What is it, what can we do,” he demands, every nerve on high alert. “B, what the fuck ARE those things??”

KSpenz has a flash of insight at Tim’s statement. “Likely it’s watercooled—they’re overclocked already, so if you get the cooling off, they’ll all fry pretty quick—” And she winces, pulling the headset away from her ear at the full Bat volume, something cold in the pit of her stomach.

Jason just blinks at his arms for a second, almost as if expecting the seltzer water to start burning at any second. He nearly jumps when Batman’s voice sounds in his ear. For once not questioning the man, he pulls his grappling hook from his belt and fires it at the top of the nearest building before turning to Dick and Damian. “One of you need a lift?”

Roy hears Batman, sees him up ahead grab Ollie’s arm, half haul him off, and he whistles a short, hard spurt of noise at Tak, running up and rapping on his shoulder. “Let’s go!” He turns and shouts down at Nightwing, Robin, Red Hood. “YO!”

Ninko paws at Roy when his brother’s comm goes off so loud that Tak can hear it, even. “What what what?” he yelps, following hot on Roy’s heels, although he doesn’t seriously expect an answer.

Selina runs with Harley, the tiger right behind her along with what sounds like is possibly a parade of a few more animals. She probably should add “all kinds of cat whisperer” to her résumé. “What fireworks?”

Damian Wayne jumps aboard Red Hood’s back, having damaged his grapple in the explosion.

Dickiebird fires off his line as soon as Damian’s secure with Jason, following them up.

Jason shifts a little, making sure Damian’s secure on his back before pulling both of them up to the rooftop.

Batman responds. “Aluminum nitrate and trinitrotoluen,” he states, and then hurriedly, because he knows that won’t click just yet, he looks up at Ollie as he begins to shove police officers away—“Get them OFF THE STREET,” he snarls at them—his blue eyes bright behind the edges of the cowl. “He wants to blow it. He wants to ignite the gasoline in the storm drains.”

Tim isn’t alone. He can hear the man’s presence before he sees them, creeping closer to the bulky criminal that’s guarding the power supply. He observes the man, and considers possible tactics to knock him out quickest when Kate provides him with a grand solution to their problem. The man seems to be sweating profusely as well, continuously wiping his brow. Tim moves in when the motion is repeated, slipping into the criminal’s personal space while his vision is blocked by the man’s arm. He drops low, kicks the man off his feet and hints two pressure points (kind of sloppy with all the sweat, but it works nevertheless). “Going to shut down the coolers, the heat will do the rest,” he informs Kate and everyone else who’s listening along.

Harley!!! looks back at Selina, a smile suddenly spreading across her face: soft and warm at the edges, she explains: “My puddin’s comin’ home!”

Selina pales almost as fast as Harley smiles. “This was all to get him out?”

Green Arrow “Under the fucking /streets/?” Ollie doesn’t waste any more time with asking questions — or at least, asking questions without pairing it with grabbing at any civilians still not on the sidewalk yet. “How fast can we flush foam down into the drains? Can we suck out the oxygen?” There’s no time for any of this before the Joker ignites it, of course, but that’s a lost cause. Stopping the fire from spreading’s got to be the next priority.

Roy shouts back at Tak, even as they continue to move off the streets, getting everyone back from the sidewalks—police included: “Don’t know, don’t care. When Batman shouts at you to get off the street, you should usually.. Get off the street.” He hates to state it, but it’s true, and he cups his hands over his mouth: “BACK IT UP, BACK IT UP!”

Harley!!! grabs Selina’s hands, squeezing them tight. “We’re getting EVERYONE out!!”

Tim rushes to escape the increasing heat once he’s certain the system’s circuits have been fried. He inhales the moist air and coughs until he is on the roof of the building, having heard Batman’s orders of staying off the streets. He looks around in search of his siblings and other allies. Perhaps he should have packed his grapple gun, he thinks begrudgingly even if he wouldn’t have been able to hide such a tool.

Batman lifts his head, looking up at the sky and speaks, to the only person who would be able to do anything from where she is: Talia. “Did Red Robin get to the university in time?”

Talia pauses in speaking to Kate, to answer Bruce: “..he’s shut the power down, but the grid is still attempting to climb back.” She pauses again, and then speaks, when Harley’s voice filters through, the noise silently disgusted: “..Madness.”

the joker ‘s laughter bursts across the comms, wordless and slicing across the spaces they all inhabit with painless ease.

Green Arrow stops, attention caught by something: one of the parade floats, stopped a little further down the street, with what seems to be weak movement in it. “Back in a minute,” he says, halfway into the first loping step towards the vehicle before he breaks into a full-on run. With no comm on, he’s not distracted by anything else.

Batman feels the earth tremble under his feet as the first firetruck explodes, the asphalt jumping. The next follows, a few seconds later. Every explosion is massive glass and windows shattering as the bright red vehicles are consumed in fire and twisted metal. Car alarms go off, screaming loudly down the streets.

Tim rears back at the sudden wicked laughter in his ears. “What’s going on?” he asks no one before seeking contact with Batman. “Batman, the power supply should be down, why isn’t it working?” he asks running a hand through his sweaty hair. Tim’s eyes widen at the explosions down below.

Roy spots Green Arrow, and snaps at Tak, command firm in his voice: “Stay here.” He runs towards the float, in the opposite direction that Ollie had been running at, at full speed.

Batman ‘s voice is detached, eerily so, when he responds: “The main power grid for the city has several failsafes in case of disaster: the as long as two of the three main arteries remain powered, even if the third fails, the city’s power will continue to flow.”

Dickiebird watches, transfixed, as the explosions begin.

Batman knows that his children, his family, they’ll know this, as Gothamites, but he continues, explaining: “..the first artery runs from Upper Gotham into the country, capping outside the airport. The second, at the University, and the third..” He looks down at the police station. “It ends here.”

Green Arrow hauls himself onto the float without stopping his forward momentum and takes in the situation instantly: two girls, neither more than sixteen, trapped under the giant display of snap peas and tomatoes that had toppled onto them. The heavy metal framework of the structure made it hard for them to budge it, although they’ve been trying, but for a grown man’s muscles kept strong by constant archery and training, the task is a quick one and he heaves it off of them in one go. “We won a contest,” one of the girls whispers, brown eyes huge and terrified as she holds up her hands to be pulled out. “We won it.” In the next moment, her hair’s blown back and Ollie feels heat against his back as the explosions begin, fire racing down the street towards them.

Jason drops to one knee once on the roof so Damian can get down more easily. His eyes go wide as the explosions start, the heat from the fire trucks palpable even from where they stand atop the building.

Batman is moving, running, as he speaks, his breathing not stopping, and he utters, voice dark: “The third runs to Arkham. He’s shutting down Arkham.” Suddenly, without stopping, he shoots out a grapple and launches it into the first firetruck, the one stopped in front of the Gotham City Police Department’s headquarters.

Mari freezes when the explosions begin, halfway in the movement of tossing the last empty water container onto a nearby roof, eyes widening. For one awful moment, it’s looking back with her broken father in her arms, at a flower becoming a fungus, at an explosion that will kill many of her friends, and then Mar’i registers what Harley’s screeched, even with the heavy static through Selina’s earpiece, as Bruce confirms it. She takes off in a dead run across the length of the roof, and seems to run straight into the air before she’s all energy and heat, flying fast towards Arkham.

Talia voice is cool in face of Batman’s despair: “Attempting to reroute available power.” Kate echoes that she is doing the same, and together, the two women begin to shut down the non-essentials.

Tim watches the fire spread and swallows a series of profanities that would make Jason proud. “Arkham, of course,” he mutters as he starts pacing the roof, wondering how to get from one place to another.

Cass joins Dick and the others on their rooftop, ducking once the explosions begin. “Always Arkham.” she adds to Tim’s muttering, just as frustrated as the rest of them.

Batman tightens the grapple and goes near-literally flying across the space, even as the firetrucks continue to explode: he is three away from getting blown up himself. He gets into the truck and begins to haul the duffel bags out of the truck, throwing them as far away as he can. Sweat pour freely as he works. Another truck explodes. Two away.

Roy doesn’t quite clear the explosion and is half lifted inside of the float with the force of the blast, landing with a thud, smoke rising from the fuzzy tufts of his hair. He shakes his head, looking dazed, and grins at Ollie. “Girl Scouts or 4-H?” He asks at the tail end of the statement, looking at the girls, before he leans down and picks the other girl up in his arms.

Dickiebird doesn’t say a word to his siblings before he leaps to the next rooftop, running as fast as he can towards the GCPD and Bruce.

Mari “How many exits will I need to cover,” Mar’i pants to Bruce over the comms as she flies, “how many ways could they get out?”

Green Arrow The girl shakes her head, hair-puffs softly scratching Roy’s cheek as she clings to him with a death grip. “We volunteer in a community garden,” she explains, pride in her voice even through the confusion and fright. “It was a contest for volunteers. We have green thumbs.” She lets out a sob, burying her face in Roy’s shoulder as Ollie straightens up with the other girl in his arms. “Whatsay we don’t stick around for the celebratory barbecue,” he grunts, and leaps down from the float as the wispy coloured paper festooning the back of it starts to smolder.

Batman “Ten,” he states, rattling off the statistics: “Ten doors, but only two entrances to the main gate; its electrified. Get inside and block the—” He stops, as he is down to the last bag inside the truck, when he feels this one moving, when there’s a motion inside, and for a maddening moment Bruce thinks that it’s a child, that there’s a child inside of the dark duffel bag because of the way the sides dimple, as if hands were pushing at the sides—his mind spins into darkness as he tears at the material, but when he opens it, there is nothing but slinkies, and there, at the center, a pair of chattering teeth that had been shifting the coils, and without wanting to, Bruce finds the trigger.

Harley!!! looks past Selina, where two of the firetrucks explode at once, and winces when she realizes who had been in the first, and states, a touch of mourning: “..well, you know, there’s plenty more bats in the bellfry,” she slides her hand over Selina’s arm, squeezing her hand.

Dickiebird is almost parallel to the firetruck when they explode, the force of it knocking him back away from the roof. “Batman!”

Talia ‘s voice is terse after Nightwing’s speech, and she states: “Down to ten percent power, attempts to reroute are failing.. Why are they failing?” She asks the question, even as Kate goes silent on the other end.

Roy follows Green Arrow out, jumping down with a grunt, and tightens his hold on the girl. He looks down at her, smiling his most paternal of smiles as he jogs them away from the explosions: “..do you like container gardening, or raised bed? I think that—” The double explosions make Roy grunt, stagger, and he shuts up, setting off at a run to get the girl to safety.

Selina stares out at the flames, looking for movement. She has no claim to him, they’re just old friends, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but there’s something that feels terribly wrong as Harley squeezes her hand like she’s comforting her. He’s been through worse, she’s seen him go through worse, but this time, just like every time, it hurts, a dark clawing sort of anger inside her. Without warning, she hauls around and swipes at Harley’s face, claws out.

Mari goes straight over the gates of Arkham, nearly catching the flesh of her thigh on the electric wiring. It’s still nipping faintly right now, which Mar’i takes as a good sign as she moves towards the main exit. There’s a fire exit visibly flanking each front of the building, and Mar’i blasts the awning of each one with a starbolt, sending bricks tumbling across the path. It won’t hold up much, but it might reroute anyone trying to get out through those two doors. “Front two blocked as much as I can, I’m going into the—” Mar’i heads for the front doors. Then the explosion comes through the comm, ear-piercing to the point that Mar’i has to pull her comm out long enough to let it run its course, standing outside the building as the quiet settles in. “WHO WAS THAT,” she yells, “WHO’S COMM CAUGHT THAT?”

Harley!!! takes the claw to the face unexpected, and blood bursts from her nose and mouth, as she lifts the axe and glowers at Selina, swinging hard.

Cass “No.” is all Cass can manage to reply to Mar’i’s shouts, knowing she doesn’t want to answer. She feels altogether numb as she watches the burning below, numb and hot. She shakes off her gauntlets, hands free to draw through her hair, to pull the comm out of her ear to escape the chatter for a few seconds.

Dickiebird leaps to the ground, rebreather in his mouth to help handle the smoke and fumes. He runs forward towards the twisted hull of the firetruck, dousing the flames in his path. “Batman! Batman, respond!”

Selina falls back out of the way of the axe, just enough to spring forward again and tackle her, trying to wrest the axe from her hands. “What’s so worth it about him, Harley? What makes him remotely worth it?”

Ninko joins his family as they run, leaping nimbly alongside them as they all race out of the reach of the flames and explosions. “I saw Batman,” he gasps, voice high and strained. “He blew up in one of the explosions.” The girl clutching Roy gives a loud scared cry at this declaration and the other one scrabbles against Ollie’s chest. “Put me down, put me down!” she screeches, kicking like a cat.

Green Arrow redoubles his grip on the girl until they’ve put enough room between them and the fire, finally letting her down. “Keep them safe,” he says to Roy, and although his tone is tight his eyes behind the mask are urgent, searching Roy’s for … a promise, an understanding, a connection. Then Ollie turns and runs back towards the conflagration.

Alfred from the plane, speaks, the calm belied by a thin thread of stress through the center of his words: “The.. heat is too high to get an accurate reading on him from up here.”

Roy meets Ollie’s eyes, and understands, a second too late, before he understands, but by then the older man is off and running. He nearly shouts at him, nearly goes after him, but then he looks at Tak, at the girl’s, and grunts at Ninko, reaching out and grabbing his upper arm to keep him from running: “C’mon, let’s get them out.”

Jason winces at the explosion that comes across loud and clear over the comm. Not good. He glances over at Cass and hesitantly moves to her side, one hand going to her shoulder.

Dickiebird rips through the truck, throwing an extinguisher pellet on himself to try and top the flames from spreading too fast. A shred of cape, a gauntlet spike, burning tracks from the truck, he just needs something to tell him— He shakes his head and crouches, the fumes and heat making it difficult to focus.

Talia continues to speak, through Kate’s silence: if the woman has left the console, gone to gear up, Talia would not blame her. But from where she is, in the state that she is in, there is no doubt that this is the best thing that she can do. “All of the lower-security patients have been released from their cells. The backup generator is still running for the higher security, but it is failing.” Her voice is resolute, grim. “We have forty five seconds.”

Batman moves out of the flames of the explosion knowing that he’s injured, feeling the skin around his cowl already bubbling at the edge of the Nomex, but he walks away from it, pieces of burning asphalt sliding off his cape, even as he moves to where the firetrucks—the double explosion—have eaten into the asphalt, as the gasoline in the storm drains ignite: he can see the flames from here, as they burn through the underground.. and he is glowing.

Green Arrow practically slams up against Dick as he skids onto the scene, grabbing at the younger man’s elbow and hauling him to standing as he points at Bruce emerging from the fire. “Fucking hell,” he breathes. “Call the eye in the sky, dammit, we gotta get him outta here.”

Cass leans back for just a brief five seconds (she counts them) as Jason’s hand rests on her shoulder. Once her time is up, she returns her comm and gauntlets, moving to the edge of the rooftop. She glances over to Jason, “No stopping.” they can’t stop tonight.

Talia ‘s voice is soft, and quiet. “Thirty seconds.”

Damian Wayne oooh’s behind Todd and Cain, finding Father’s current appearance more intriguing than alarming

Dickiebird looks up at Batman as he moves and stares. The glow sparks something in him and he watches with some sort of awestruck reverence, the kind children have when they hear the myth of the Bat and see his symbol in the sky. Ollie snaps him out of it as he pulls him up. Dick shakes his head to clear it and nods. “We’ve got him. He’s standing. We need to fly him out, now.”

Alfred ‘s voice is audibly relieved, in the sense that he sounds vaguely annoyed: “Dropping to one hundred feet and opening the hangar.”

Batman looks down at his side, where something inside of his belt is burning through the pouch: he reaches inside and pulls out, of all things, the diamonds. The center of them glow, that undetermined piece that Bruce had been wracking his brain about. He turns the diamonds over—three of them—and looks up and over, looking for Selina.

Jason nods. His eyes flick down to the streets again and he freezes when he sees Bruce, the glow more than a little strange.

Harley!!! grunts at Selina, still attempting to hold onto the axe, even as, under their feet, the fire continues to grow.

Harley!!! “What can I say? I like a guy with a sense of HUMOUR!” She pushes at the axe, pushing Selina away, and turns tail, running away. She lifts a hand, circling her thumb and index finger and whistles, loud and sharp.

Ninko had been about to follow Ollie back to the fire, where all the exciting stuff is clearly happening, but he grudgingly stays with Arsenal as they bring the girls to one of the ad hoc checkpoints that the GCPD have managed to set up. “I take it back,” Tak says, surveying the mass of terrorized people, hearing more explosions back from the main parade route. “This creature is no joke at all. I wonder why my mother never told me about him.”

Talia keeps them up to date, not being witness to the chaos that the others are going through: “..ten seconds.”

Selina falls back, about to leap up and run after Harley when her tiger— the tiger, no, Selina, you can’t keep the tiger— bats at her as it runs from the flames. She can deal with Harley later. She gives the tiger a quick pet and runs back towards the street, hissing at the heat and stench of it all. It doesn’t matter, either, because she’s looking for… Glowing. That’s nice. “Batman?” she yells, her voice turning up just at the end, hesitant even as she continues moving towards him.

Sindella stands in the space between Bruce and Selina as if she had always been there. The mane of her hair is exquisite: the strands are thick, winding around her face and shoulders as if held aloft by the air itself; she looks like a mermaid, like someone under the water, the golden strands whipping around her, pushed by waves of power as she looks across the destruction, the tumult. She is dressed in pale ivory, the material transparent as she walks, before it become opaque on the settle, making the long line of her limbs shimmer and tremble, giving the illusion that if you stare hard, long enough, you’ll see past, below, through.. She walks, but doesn’t walk, towards the source of the glow, the cloak gathered around her whipping in an unseen wind.

Alfred announces, as the plane’s power dims, suddenly, as he gets lower. “The power is failing, unable to complete descent. Going back up to three hundred feet.”

Dickiebird glances at Ollie, fingering an eskrima stick just in case… whoever this is decides to attack.

Green Arrow “Who…” Ollie begins, shaking his head irritably as if he’s got something stuck that he’s trying to shake loose. There’s something familiar about the face of the blonde woman, the carriage, but he can’t place it. So instead he says to Nightwing, “Let’s make sure the area’s secured. We don’t want any fucker sneaking up on us while we’re all enraptured by the stage show.”

Roy grunts at Tak, nodding, even as he reaches over and feels at his arrows, looking for flame retardant ones. He lifts his hand and presses his comm deeper into his ear: “Are we moving towards turning off the.. the?” The asks, turning to stare at the woman who has just appeared on the battlefield, thinking suddenly on valkyries and sirens and the Ariel singing ‘Part of your World’—and he makes a face. “We should be hauling ass to Arkham, yeah?”

Talia announces: “Power is completely gone at Arkham.”

Dickiebird clearly doesn’t want to follow Ollie, but he does anyway, turning away from the glowing woman.

Roy gestures at the sky, as if pointing to where Talia’s voice is.

Selina follows after the apparition or whatever she is, breaking out into a light jog to close the distance between them. None of this bodes well, not the glowing, not the amazing appearing woman, and sure as hell not the lost power at Arkham.

Batman But he cannot pull away from where he is, frozen in space, where he is, his hand still curled over the diamonds, the tiny stones glowing now, in pulsing heartbeats. He can only move his eyes, to stare down at his hand, then up at the woman.

Sindella does not speak, but holds her hand out, and near immediately the stones leave Bruce’s hand, shooting over to her. They float above her fingers in orbit, and she stares down at them, before looking up at Bruce. Then, in an instant, she is gone, as if she had never been there.

Batman exhales when she is gone, turning his head to the side, and exhales. He moves over to Catwoman, to Selina, coming within a few feet of her. “Quinn.. where’d she go?” He asks, his voice rough and hard, even as he scans Selina’s mouth and face, her body, looking for signs of injury.

Selina catches just the faintest glimpse of the stones as they float above the woman’s hand, her mind only realizing what they are once she’s gone. Selina hesitates a moment before moving, meeting Bruce halfway. “Probably Arkham to fetch him. She’s not—” She makes a soft grunt of frustration and looks him over. “Are you all right?”

Batman nods, and then lifts his hand to depress his comms, broadcasting onto the private, Gotham-based channel and the League comms. “Black Bat, Red Hood and Robin, stay here on on the ground killing the fire.. Nightwing, Green Arrow..” He looks at Selina. “Catwoman and I will head to Arkham.”

Green Arrow still hasn’t turned on his comm again, and doesn’t realize this is the plan until Dick relays it to him and the two of them return to Bruce and Selena. “You think that’s where he is?” Ollie asks, although he half-knows what the answer will be.

"Yes." Cass replies heading to what remained of the street to follow Batman’s command.

Mari has gotten into Arkham, but is making slow progress down from the upper floor to the lower level. It’s mostly low-life thugs at this point, since the more…hardened criminals are either trapped below or making their way out. Mar’i isn’t sure which. She kicks another goon down the staircase, proceeding a few more steps downward.

Batman nods. “The failsafes I set up, independent of the grid, they’ll hold him in place.” He exhales, and looks around at the group of them. “When we get in there, the higher-grade patients, that’s where we focus our attention.” He looks to Catwoman and Green Arrow. “If you can clear the path, Nightwing can focus on getting down into the lower levels.”

Jason “Right,” he says, for once deciding not to argue, having no wish to venture any closer to Arkham than he has to. He lightly pats Damian’s head as he passes on the way to the edge of the building. “C’mon, Robin, gotta go put the place out.”

Selina nods and starts coiling her whip. “We can do that.”

Damian Wayne acknowledges the order over the comm and follows Red Hood and Black Bat down to ground level. The firetrucks have been demolished, and Damian fruitlessly claws and pries at a closed hydrant buried in the sidewalk. When he’s unsuccessful in this endeavor, he reaches into his belt, clearly set upon enacting his usual tactic: if he can’t breach it otherwise, he’ll blow it up.

Green Arrow “With ease and pleasure.”

Mari kicks in the gate still blocking (still locking?) the lower level door. But there’s—

Mari “No one’s here,” Mar’i croaks weakly. “The doors are all open. There’s no one here.” She toes the body of a nearby guard, gutted with a twisted neck.

Batman opens his gauntlet and sends a signal to summon Alfred, and more importantly, the plane, down so they can hitch a ride. He exhales, roughly, knowing that they won’t have time to—

Batman stops, hand stilling over his grappling gun, and he presses his index finger to his comm, pressing it in, as if it will block the sudden ringing in his ears. “Nightstar,” Bruce’s voice is thick. “What are you seeing?”

Mari “Dead guards and open doors. I’m not—” Mar’i pauses, reading the names printed neatly on clipboard attached to each door as she goes. “Zsasz, Croc, Two-Face, Mr. Pyg, Scarecrow…Clayface and Freeze, Ivy…”

Dickiebird lets out a low whistle as Mar’i lists off the names, shaking his head.

Roy feels his stomach drop a little as he hears those names in Mar’i’s mouth, and he looks up at the sky, as if she were there and not in the belly of the beast. “What about ‘em? They kick it too?”

Mari “Every single cell is open,” Mar’i restates, shaking her head as she moves down the hallway, bypassing twisted wire gating and more bodies.

Cass sighs, watching Robin attack the hydrant and moves to his belt, “Blow it up? Robin.”

Batman ‘s voice is guttural, slicing through the silence: Talia’s silence, Kate’s—Bruce knows she’s on her way here, there’s little doubt in him about that. “The last failsafe goes to the Cave. For his cell.”

Green Arrow having finally toggled his comm back on, scowls at this information. “This happened before the parade? Or at the very least, when the mayhem started.” He stares at Bruce when that last bit of information is given.

Dickiebird frowns, his shoulders tensing as he listens.

Damian Wayne clicks his tongue at Cassandra as the hydrant explodes, a geyser erupting from the hole in the ground. It’s not elegant, but it’s effective, and the surrounding fires sizzle as the water quenches them. Damian angles some of the scrap metal on the street in the spray to direct it at other blazes in the area.

Mari flinches at the smell of excrement and…silly putty as she moves down the corridor. There are no more cells, not this far back. It’s reinforced with more metal compounds that Mar’i can name, but it’s littered with bits of intestine and bone. The overhead light flickers, but doesn’t provide any actual light, so Mar’i lights the way with her starbolt-powered fist. “Stinks,” she mutters, moving through the darkness.

Dickiebird looks to Bruce. “What can stop that failsafe?”

Jason has been trying to put out fires over on the other side of the street when he stops as Damian blows up a hydrant. Tiny grin on his face, he heads over, grabbing another large bit of scrap metal to help direct the water. “Try and get it over there,” he says, nodding at a still roaring blaze across the way.

Mari stops, in the wide bulk of the empty cell. “No one,” she repeats, definitively. “He’s not here.”

Batman lifts his grappling gun, as Alfred moves overhead, snapping his hook into the plane, even as he glances over at Dick, and speaks over the comms, “Talia, are you—” But the words die on his tongue when Mar’i says what she does.

Cass rolls her eyes, but aids in adjusting the geyser’s flow. “Fire brigade.” she smirks.

Damian Wayne stands at the lowest part of the large sheet of scrap the three of them are wrangling, the water soaking him in the process. Aside from the surrounding devastation and the fact that Arkham is potentially under attack and several Leaguers have sustained personal injury, it almost seems like a benign summer activity: enjoying the spray of a hydrant with two of the older children. “That fire is worth 25 points,” he informs Cassandra and Todd, nodding his head at a blaze burning across the street. “And the one on the third floor window is worth 50.”

Jason laughs a little, somewhat surprised at the welcome lightening of the mood. Brow furrowing in concentration, he carefully adjusts the large bit of metal, trying to aim for the higher point fire.

Cass “50?!” Cass exclaims, “75. At least.” she challenges, the third floor fire seeming much further out of reach than the blaze just across the street. She joins Jason in trying to push the flow of water upward to reach the high fire, assuming that the points are to be shared between them.

Talia states, confirming what Mar’i has said: “He’s not there,” her voice, then, spikes up, going terse as she hisses: “There’s someone here.” And, without warning, a scream—someone’s—split​s through the comms.

Dickiebird yanks his comm out of his ear at the scream, wincing.

Batman depresses the trigger on the grappling hook, the line going tight, and rises up into the air at the sound of the scream; his cape, in tatters, streams behind him.

Dickiebird looks to the others. “I guess that’s our cue to follow.”

Green Arrow cusses loudly. “Talia’s at the Cave,” he reiterates, and comms the Watchtower, demanding a zeta transport to the coordinates of the Cave’s dedicated platform, in its secure bay.

Batman is already moving towards the controls, when the explosion happens, the light blinding the front window, even as the sound races to try and catch up. Down below, the people on the ground turn their heads, as if attempting to determine where the source of it came from; but everyone masked down below, they’ll know, because with the distance of the Palisades from the city center, there’s nothing worth anything to blow up out there, except of course, for stately Wayne Manor, and everything that lies below.

Dickiebird flushes and pales immediately after. His stomach knots and twists as the light and sound fade.

Batman stops his movement, going still, even as besides him, Alfred’s hand moves across his jaw, fingers pressing into the bones there, into his lips and chin, the other curling around his chest, knuckling going white as his fingers twist in the material, mussing it to wrinkles, in front of his heart as if he means to reach the organ inside; Bruce sees none of this, watching the space off in the horizon, his gaze behind the cowl going dim, and dull.

Mari looks up when the sound of the boom reaches the bottom floor of Arkham, closely followed by an intense shaking that rattles the entire cell. It belies the location of the failsafe, it’s open entrance, the glaring absence in the room.

Green Arrow stops quarrelling with the hapless tech on the other end who’s trying to tell him that the coordinates are compromised, and his hand drops to his side, limply. “Oh, jesus,” he says. “Oh fucking hell, no.”

Roy hears Ollie, hears the chatter from the Watchtower techs, and most importantly, hears the explosion. “What, what happened, GA?”

Damian Wayne moves a few steps from the gushing water, quietly taking in the scream, the distant rumble of the explosion that can be felt beneath the street. He has an indication of what it forebodes, but he can’t call for his mother over a channel proven to not be secure. “Batman,” he says over the comm after a few seconds pass, willing his voice to not sound childlike and scared.

Green Arrow licks his lips, tasting ashes and soot, and for a moment he imagines he can taste the carnage there — the remains of the library, the grandfather clock, the kitchen table. He doesn’t pause to consider that perhaps Bruce will be the one who wants to tell them; he taps his comm on again and says, voice dry, “…the Manor is gone.”

Cass the game is over as soon as she hears the scream, the explosion. Dropping the scrap metal back to the gravel at her feet, she stares to Damian. “Robin.” she frowns, looking to Jason with worry.

Batman might know that there’s no one else aboard—that neither Dick nor Oliver had followed— or he might not—eyes trained ahead.. but either way, it doesn’t matter when he utters, fingers pulling the comm out from under his cowl, pulling the cowl down and off: “..Alfred.” He stares beyond, at the cloud of dust that rises above the location beyond the trees. “Alfred, take me home.” And, Alfred, his fingers swiping the moisture from the corners of his eyes, nods, his damp hands moving across the steering column as he replies, just as quietly as Bruce had spoken: “Of course, sir.”