After finally extracting himself from Dr. Quinzel's relentless interrogation, Marco headed toward the back of the precinct. He found Darnell hauling a folding cot through the hallway, with Raven trailing behind him. She was clutching an enormous tub of ice cream and eating it with a plastic spoon as she walked.
"Hey," Marco said, catching up to them. "Maybe slow down on the ice cream. That's a lot of sugar."
Raven's eyes flicked to him briefly, then back to the ice cream. She took another spoonful.
"I'll take that as a 'noted and ignored.'" Marco reached out and took the cot from Darnell, nodding for his partner to head back and grab the rest of the supplies. Then he looked at Raven again. "Don't you have school? Homework? Normal teenager stuff?"
The corner of Raven's mouth twitched.
"My father said formal education was a tool of societal control designed to suppress individual enlightenment."
"Of course he did." Marco sighed. "Well, you're staying here for a couple of days. After tonight, I'll figure out somewhere better for you. Somewhere with beds and maybe a TV."
He carried the cot into one of the holding cells, technically a drunk tank, but cleaner than most, and set it up in the corner. Darnell returned with an armful of bedding, and together they made up the cot with fresh sheets and a heavy blanket that looked like it had come straight from the police supply closet. Which it had.
"Alright, stay with her for a bit," he said, clapping Darnell on the shoulder. "I'm going to check in with some people who might have ideas."
He glanced at Raven. She gave him the smallest nod, just enough to acknowledge she'd heard him and didn't object.
Marco turned and headed back toward the main hall, pulling out his phone as he walked.
"This is weird," he muttered to himself. "She's got less expression than my tenth-grade chemistry teacher. And that guy was a robot."
He scrolled through his contacts and dialed a number. The line rang twice before the call was answered.
"Gordon."
"It's Marco."
"Marco..." Gordon's voice shifted slightly. "What's going on?"
---
Wayne Tower - The Batcave.
Bruce stood in front of the main screen, still wearing his armor. The black Kevlar was scuffed and dirty from the night's patrol, streaked with grime and marked with shallow cuts from where someone had gotten a little too close with a knife. But the physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the weight pressing down on his mind.
"Master Bruce."
Alfred approached carrying a silver tray with a cup of tea, steam rising from the surface in curls.
"Perhaps you could use something warm. The cave gets rather cold this time of year."
"The cold isn't coming from the cave, Alfred." Bruce didn't turn around. His eyes stayed locked on the surveillance footage cycling across the screen. "Gotham has visitors."
"Visitors you know," Alfred said quietly. "And who know you."
Alfred moved to the console and pulled up the surveillance records from around the East End precinct. Most of it was unremarkable, traffic, pedestrians, the usual flow of urban life. But buried in the footage, in the corners and shadows where most people wouldn't think to look, Bruce saw them.
The way someone crossed a street, or waited at a corner, or stood near a building entrance... all wrong.
He'd been trained to move like that once. A long time ago.
"The League of Assassins," Bruce said, his voice dropping to something darker. "They're here."
Alfred said nothing, which was confirmation enough.
His gaze went distant for a moment, as a memory he'd buried years ago clawed its way to the surface like something digging itself out of a grave.
---
Years Ago - Somewhere in the Mountains.
Dry wind swept across the land, carrying sand and dust with it. The sun beat down on bare rock and sparse vegetation.
Bruce had been younger then. He was not Batman yet, just a man traveling the world in search of answers he could not yet put into words. He was searching for something that might give him the means to push back against the injustice that had taken his parents.
And he'd found the League in a hidden valley, a place that didn't exist on any map. It was an organization that had endured for centuries, operating in the shadows and shaping the course of history through carefully applied violence.
The training had been brutal. It covered combat, stealth, interrogation, and psychological conditioning. They'd pushed him to his limits and then past them, breaking him down and rebuilding him into the man he had become.
But the sharpest memory wasn't the training. It was her.
Talia.
She had eyes that burned with the same fury he carried, the same refusal to accept the world as it was. She was fierce, brilliant, and dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with the weapons she carried.
They had sparred on the training grounds until they were soaked with sweat and worn to exhaustion, trading blows that were as much about combat as they were about something else. It was a feeling he had not allowed himself to acknowledge in years.
Then, one night in the stone halls of the compound, words gave way to something more.
He remembered her hand on his chest, pressing him back against the cold stone, and the heat of her mouth against his. He remembered the way they had come together like two drowning people, clinging to each other because nothing else in the world made sense.
It had been passion, something wholly separate from the mission that had brought him there. For a few stolen hours, the weight of Gotham had eased. The ghosts of his parents had grown quiet. There had been only Talia, the present moment, and the brief, burning oblivion she offered.
It was one of the few times in his life when he had allowed himself to be completely, recklessly human.
Then morning came, and Ra's al Ghul revealed his true purpose. He intended to purge humanity through destruction and rebirth, to burn the world clean.
Bruce had walked away. He had left the League, and he had left Talia. But he had never truly left the memory behind.
---
"Master Bruce?"
Alfred's voice pulled him back to the present. Bruce realized his fists were clenched. He forced himself to relax, taking a slow breath.
"Tap into the East End precinct's communications," he said with a flat voice. "I need to know what Marco and his people understand about what they're protecting."
"From what I've monitored so far, Captain Vitale and his team appear to understand only a fraction of the situation," Alfred replied calmly. "However, they're clearly aware of the danger. According to the reports, they have already repelled one supernatural attack, and they did so rather effectively."
"One attack." Bruce pulled up the architectural schematics of the East End precinct on the main screen. "The League won't make the same mistake twice. They'll send professionals next time."
He stared at the building layout.
"Ra's wants that girl. He won't care how many police officers die. He won't care if he has to burn down half the East End to get her."
The memory of Talia flickered through his mind once again
If she was leading this operation, there might still be a chance to talk. It would be slim, but negotiation was at least possible. If it was someone else, someone without their shared history, then this would be nothing but violence. There would be no hesitation. And there would be no mercy.
And if it was really Talia... That might be worse.
"Maintain surveillance," Bruce ordered. "But increase stealth protocols. I don't want them to know we're watching."
"You intend to intervene, Master Bruce?"
"This is Gotham. It isn't their city." Bruce walked toward the armory, where his backup suit waited in its case. "The League doesn't get to operate here. Marco and his people are trying to do the right thing. I'm not going to let Ra's cut them down and drag that girl into deeper darkness."
He paused at the equipment racks, running through a mental checklist.
"Prepare the Batmobile. And let's give Fox's new toy a field test."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain that's wise? Mr. Fox was quite explicit about the need for further calibration."
"It'll be fine." Bruce pulled on his cowl. "If it doesn't work, I'll improvise."
"You always do, sir."
Alfred moved to the vehicle bay, already running pre-flight on the Batmobile's systems.
Behind him, Batman stood in the shadows of the cave, staring at the surveillance feeds.