The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane

December 12th, 1979.

Jerimiah Arkham had just finished reading his daughters Astrid and Victoria their bedtime story, the children's version of the tale of King Arthur taking his throne using Excalibur. He knew Victoria didn't care for the tales, despite her name originating from the same region of the world they did, but the toddler could tell, even then, how much her older sister loved those tales of swords and horses and castles. Once again, he left their room in the castle that was their home, wondering if her childhood home was the reason for Astrid's knight obsession.

He was a prodigy, capable of reading any man or woman he'd ever met like an open book, even if they attempted to stop him, yet his barely three year old daughter confounded him even more than that damned bat, or even the case of his ancestor Amadeus, the founder of this Asylum, and his decent into madness that got him confined within the very asylum he'd built from the ground up.

He was shaken from these thoughts when he looked around his quarters and, for once, didn't see his beloved wife as he normally did, sitting on the couch, ready to try at their third. Ingrid, his love...she was one of the very few people who he could read at any moment, and never find something he couldn't love. Even the inmates knew her as the woman too good for the odd, gangly Jerimiah, and he was more than fine with her possessing the label.

After all, he'd given it to her.

He looked around their living space, the bedrooms, the bathroom, and still he couldn't find her. As he walked though the quarters, he continuously got more and more worried for her safety, thoughts of the fate of the last director to stay in the Asylum full time, it's founder, and his wife and children slipping in. Just before he called for the armed guards outside, adrenaline took over and he simply rushed forward, pushing the large doors open. What he saw on the other side shattered his hope.

Two dead guards, permanent smiles on their pale yellow faces.


The WayneTech Asylum for the Criminally Insane, Wing A

March 21st, 2003

As a psychologist, fresh off of being cleared for duty at the facility that was Arkham Asylum only a few months ago, interviewed one of the many inmates she was now in charge of as the head of Wing A, a question she'd often thought of before popped back into her head.

"Mr. Dent-"

"Two-Face, Doc."

"Fine, Two-Face. I've wondered something about your appearance for awhile. May I ask you about it?"

The man, or, perhaps, men, who used to be Harvey Dent, got hesitant when they heard that. Dr. Buck wasn't quite Dr. Ingrid, but the young woman had been polite so far, and Two-Face would've hated to have reason to become hostile to her. They often did when doctors read too much into every detail of their appearance.

No, the difference in the thickness of the two different stripe patterns on the majority of his suits was not a sign as to which "personality" was in control at the time. It was because they often stitched two separate suits together, and nothing more.

Two-Face was trying to be good for now and give her a shot, but they did NOT like doctors who threw caution to the wind when asking them about the way they dressed.

Deciding to leave it up to chance, they flipped their coin, which they were thankful to the doctor for giving them back, even if she couldn't manage to change his dress code to include jumpsuits his two-sided style. When it landed on heads, he spoke in a lighter tone and answered the woman's question.

"Sure."

"Alright, then, here goes...So, you make entirely new suits, you even trained yourself to be equally dominant with not only both hands, but your eyes as well. All of that...but your teeth are all white?"

Flipping between a lighter tone and a darker tone as they flipped through their inner selves, Two-Face cleared things up.

"I want to keep up appearances. I want people I threaten to understand me perfectly. And we can't do either of those things if all our teeth rot out."

"Hmm...Alright...I can see that. Can I ask you another, about...something more difficult?"

When the coin flip again landed on heads once more, they, again, allowed her to continue.

"Go ahead."

"Okay, then...When that doctor started giving you other items of chance, why did that-"

Harvey's voice interrupted her, as what had happened to him three years ago was still affecting him to this day, "You ever look inside a kaleidoscope, doc?"

"Yeah, I had one when I was kid."

"Good, now compare how many of those tiny specs of what the hell ever, to how many sides are on our coin."

"Okay...so about two to, say, a thousand."

"Oh, it's even more than that, but we'll leave it there. Our point isn't lost. Now, imagine that every one of those thousand was a person, a unique voice in a crowd that had to reach a consensus to do something as simple as breath. Each with their own entirely different levels of sanity, goals and their own, unique, personalities. Now compare that loud and complicated nightmare to the idea of two beings of completely different personalities and tastes, but almost always the same goals and the same ability to listen to reason, putting their faith in chance to get past what differences they can't on their own, and to help them make decisions."

"Hmm...so, the more options you have for the games in which you trust chance, what you refer to as The Great Equalizer, the more Faces you have, and the less Harvey and Harv are in control, is that it?", the doctor said, barley looking down at his notepad as he wrote, wanting to keep as much eye contact as possible.

"Just about."

"So, for instance, what was it like when she first gave you the six-sided dye? Did you immediately gain four more consciousnesses?"

"No, it...It's more like Harvey and Harv were both split in three sections. As the number of voices grew, so did the splits, the number of voices. Until, eventually, every piece of both of us were laid bare for each other to reflect on. After Batman gave us back our coin and stopped them all shouting over each other."

"Hmm...this reflection...are you still in that phase of processing the experience, even now, coming up on four years later?"

"We guess. We look back on it a little everyday in here."

"Not out in Gotham?"

"No time."

"And why is that, Mr. D-...Two-Face?"

After Harv gave a pleased grunt at the woman's self-correction, Harvey answered her, "Out in Gotham, everybody thinks it's hard being on the bottom of the pyramid. A few think it's worse to be on top. We can see both sides of the argument. After all, people on the bottom got almost no way out, and people on top have everyone else looking to take their spot. Hell, we're living, bonafide, proof of that. Just ask Falcone's tombstone."

"So which camp are you in?"

"Neither. We can see where both sides are coming from, but we speak from experience, and we say that it's worse to be in the middle. Everyone's still against you just like you're on top, but, just as if you were on the bottom, there's no way to get higher. Not without doing something drastic, and nowadays, in this town, that means having the Bat on your tail. And it isn't like we can just stand back and retire, or stay here and let this place tell us we're something that we aren't. That we never really were. So we have to escape, and we have to on our toes more so than anyone in the city, so we never get the chance to look in like all of you tell us to do."

"So, in your opinion, being on top of Gotham is the only way you can be on the outside and comfortably reflect on your experience during that incident? Really look at who Harvey Dent has become, and what Big Bad Harv wants? Meaning, that, being on top of this town is the only way you think you'll ever really know yourself?"

"...We guess."

"And you do want to know yourself don't you?"

"Yes...as much as we want to be back on top, we do."

Two-Face became completely focused on their coin again, before the doctor asked her next question.

"If you were to be "back on top", what would Gotham look like when you were through?"

"I don't know...I would guess I'd need to get there to find out."

A few seconds after they said that, they heard the doctor's phone go off. She then got up and, curious now, they looked over from their seat in the center of the large room.

They were in the Therapist's Office of his wing, which was on the second level of the second floor of A Wing, not too far away from where their cell was. The second floor wasn't too dissimilar from the first, as both had two levels and see through glass walls into every cell, only it was a bit smaller. The office was one of the differences, being on the second floor and closer to those held there due to those held there being being more dangerous and resourceful, and thus, more likely to make an escape attempt during prisoner transport. That was also the reason why there were more guards, and why they were better equipped.

The doctor's room always had guards right outside, on top of the massive, steel door that needed a passcode to open or close. The inside of it was a solid white rectangle, in the center of which was an old green sitting chair, and an old red chaise lounge chair. Beside the sitting chair was a small table for what few things the doctors were allowed to have, and rest of the room was barren, save for the enormous wooden desk in the corner, behind which stood shelves for files, and on which sat everything an old or new doctor might need. From a modern-day laptop to an ancient typewriter, it was all there.

When he looked around, he saw that the doctor was bending over her desk, much to Harv's delight, reaching under it. She grabbed a very full duffle bag, putting it on an empty portion of her desk before opening it, seemingly checking through it's contents. Two-Face sat bolt upright, both Harvey and Harv knowing that no matter what was inside it, the young woman they were starting to think of as a goodie two shoes had broken the law to bring it in. The doctor looked up at the camera in her room, and when Two-Face tracked her eyes to it, they saw that the camera's light was off. They got up, every alarm in their body flaring, and turned back to the doctor.

She held up a hand to clam him, and he realized she had taken off her coat by now. She used both hands to grab something out of the bag, which he soon recognized as a grey version of Batman's belt, with one, very huge difference between the two: her belt had two handgun holsters on the back of it. She put the belt on, grabbed to guns of a type he didn't recognize, and fitted them into the holsters. That done, she got out the front and the back of a thin chestplate, which she fitted and strapped together over her t-shirt and on the front of which was the sigil of a bird, an eagle maybe? Over that, she placed a bandolier, along the back of which was a large rifle laying in a scabbard. Finally, she retrieved the last item, a giant red helmet with white eye slots reminiscent of Batman's cowl and an eternal angry expression. When she put it on, her long blond ponytail protruded out of the back, but that didn't make her look any less scary.

When she turned to them, she picked up the duffle, which was still half full, and threw it at Two-face's feet. He kneeled down, and saw that inside it was a new suit and several toys, including a set of two matted black handguns like the doctor's. When they looked back at her, she spoke through the helmet she now wore, one hand on her hip, the other holding up one of the pistols, aimed right at them.

"You've got two choices, here, Two-Face. You can agree to hear my boss out, or, you can die tonight. So what's it going be? Am I going to kill you, or are we leaving here together?"

Two-Face paused before they answered. They kept promises, always. Harvey did it because he was that kinda guy. Harv did it because he didn't need to lie to get what he wanted, and he considered it to be the the pussy's way out of tough situations. Sure, the only promise they were making was to hear someone out...but, then again, they had no guarantee that whoever the doctor speaking to them worked for wouldn't kill them if they then said no to...whatever they needed a district attorney turned Supervillain for.

"What if I said that, if you accept to at least hear him out, my boss will grant you something you've wanted for years?"

"...We'll bite. What?"

"Oswald Cobblepot."

They had already been leaning towards going, but the opportunity to kill the short fuck who'd muscled them damn near out of town, and then managed to lose it all to a pathetic loser like Roman Sionis? Even if they died, that was worth it.

"Then, Blondie, we're in."


Wing B, 10 minutes later

Gordon was surprised Robin had recently stopped actively chasing the Arkham case. He was a better detective than most professionals ever became at a high school age, and had seemed really passionate. But, then again, even the world's greatest detective had never found them. And now, not only was that file back in his cabinet, but while the majority of the Bats were away on other business, he'd had to write up another file with the Arkham name on it. Jeremiah Arkham was missing from his cell in Wing C. And now, he and Bullock were trying to get information from the only lead that hadn't gone cold, in all of his chuckling glory.

"JIMBO! It's been too LONG! How are you, how's the family?"

Bullock, who'd always wanted to just lynch the monstrous clown even before what he'd done to Barbara, interrupted Jim's reply to the barb at his daughter.

"We're not here to visit you, you bastard. Now, what did you-"

Just as The Joker was about to respond with a crude joke, most likely at Barbara's expense, an explosion rocked the building. The three men had to struggle just to not fall, with the overweight Bullock not being able to stop himself. As Joker laughed at his lack of balance, Gordon cursed his old knees and looked around the room. No blast holes. Explosion came from left...Wing A.

As he was gaining his composure, four armed guards rushed in. His strike team.

"Sir, are either of you hurt?"

"No, damnit!", he yelled, snatching his arm away from one of them. He wasn't in his prime, but he was still Commissioner Jim Gordon. He could take a fall. "Help the guards, get every inmate you can to the GCPD!"

"Yes sir!"

"Harvey, you're on me.", he said to the man now standing, as they both readied their service revolvers.

"Be careful, Jimbo! Would hate to see Barbara have to-", the clown's comment was cut short when one of the strike force members hit him in the forehead with his rifle butt, knocking him out immediately. Jim didn't really like the line his team walked between justified and excessive force, but he couldn't feel bad for the clown enough to yell, not when some of Gotham's worst were most likely escaping as he and Harvey readied themselves. With a nod to each other, the two ran into the hallway, meeting a team of security guards running towards the disturbance themselves.

Once they finally got to the entrance to Wing A from the Security Office, they found another team of guards already trying to get through the large steel doors, that had been frozen shut. Freeze? But we haven't seen hide or hair of him in over a year? As they got closer the head guard of the asylum, Nova Connally, ran up to the two.

"Commissioner. Detective. It's the same thing on the first floor, I'm afraid."

"What about outside?"

"The explosion opened a hole in the roof, but the snipers can't hit whatever the hell they landed up there. Whatever it is, we aren't sure."

"Have you tried getting a team up there?"

"Yes sir, but every roof access door across is frozen like this one."

"Anyone inside dead?"

"Their heartbeat monitors are all reading unconscious. I guess they want to keep mass murder of our employees off their rap sheets."

"Maybe so. What about the helicopter teams?"

"No good. We fired one pilot last week and the other's been missing for a few days."

"Damnit."

"Sir, I think we might need him."

"You think, Connally? He isn't in town."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a very young and distinctly Gotham voice from behind him chimed into the conversation.

"That's okay. We won't need 'im."

Jim slowly turned, and a young woman he'd recently learned was named Stephanie Brown, only she most likely didn't know that.

"Spoiler. Is it just you?"

"Me and Huntress. She's getting us backup and then she's headed here."

"Good. What's the plan?"

"They sealed the doors, but they didn't hit the vents yet, that's my entrance. You all be focused on getting the psychos not in this wing to the GCPD."

"Got it, go."

A mocking "Sir, yes, sir!" and salute later, and the blonde used her grapple gun to take down down a vent cover before leaping into it with an ease that he knew made Barbara proud. As she went, he spoke into his radio across the entire GCPD network.

"All available units, be advised, an incident occurring at Arkham Asylum is forcing us to use Operation Citadel. Respond as you've been designated.", that done, he turned to Bullock, and gave his partner a motion to follow him.

"Where the hell're we goin'?"

"To find another way in."


As Steph through the unusually large vents of the Asylum, she thought on how she didn't think she'd have to do this so soon after it's purchase by Bruce Wayne.

After the nightmare that was "The No Man's Land Incident", one of many things the government tried to make Gotham more stable and self-sufficient was to turn Arkham Asylum into a state-owned facility, but they technically had to buy the almost collapsed Arkham Asylum and Arkham Island itself from it's owner, ex-warden Fredrick Sidney. The Futurum Tech Conglomerate, the only big company that actually tried to help Gotham other than WayneTech and Quinn Industries and a company the Bats had investigated more times than she could remember after they absorbed LexCorp a couple years ago when it's CEO was found guilty of national treason, swooped in and doubled the amount the government was willing to pay. In a surprise turn of events, they then offered to sell it to WayneTech at a discount, seemingly attempting to spark up a more friendly relationship with the competitor.

Lucius agreed to the deal, of course, but Batman investigated them again, finding nothing out of the ordinary once more.

The facility built where Arkham Asylum once stood was an old-style mansion-like sanitorium, separated into three inmate wings. Each with two floors, each with two levels, tall, shadowy ceilings full of gargoyles, and two massive magnetically-sealed security doors connecting to the Lobby (first floor) and the Security Office (second floor). There were stairs between the levels and floors, of course, but prisoner and cargo transport was done through the lifts on each wing. The cells all had see-through, bulletproof walls for easy observation and the level to which the inmates were allowed to decorate their cells was determined by their behavior. An inmate's floor was determined by their likelihood of escape.

Wing A was made for those heavily related to the organized crime side of Gotham, while Wing B was for especially dangerous inmates not so intertwined with organized crime as they were with some gang of idiotic psychos, and Wing C was for relatively harmless inmates. Metahuman inmates were kept in what used to be the Arkham Catacombs, and was now nicknamed the Hole.

She was shaken from going over the confusing scope of the asylum she was seeing in person for the first time when she got a call from Oracle, which she answered, hearing one of her favorite people in the world as she came on the line. Just enough humor in her voice that most would assume she wasn't stressed to hell and back dealing with the Justice League's shit and now this on top of it.

"Nice. Batman probably would've wanted you to throw down a smoke or cause a tiny blackout as you left, though."

"Probably. Now, lead me through this. What's my game plan?"

"Well, from what I can see through our cameras, these guys are toting some serious firepower. Freeze bombs, advanced firearms, armor. Whoever they are, they came prepared."

"So, In and out like a ghost. is the plan?"

"Pretty much."

"Dang it. You know this isn't my forte."

"I know, I know. Just remember your training, you'll be fine."

"Got it, Spoiler out.", as the call finished, she stopped in front of a vent cover, which she carefully removed after making sure no one was watching using her mask's in to the security camera system.

Thank you, Babs.

When she was perched on top of one of the many gargoyles around the room, she took a few seconds to look around. She wanted to get a more accurate reading on her surroundings and of her enemies.

Twelve assailants, all wearing armor slightly above the standard, with some variations, but a few noticeable similarities. All of them wore some form of coat, under which was a grey, and fairly advanced, armor suit. Some wore more body armor than that, but, they all wore a motorcycle helmet-like battle helm, with white eye slots.

New Red Hood Gang?

Their weapons were more unique. Stephanie had never even seen some of the guns they were using, and something told her that the coats they wore held even more new toys. It wouldn't do to get into a brawl with these people. The helmets they wore seemed to have comms links in them, because they made the same motion Steph just had as she spoke whenever they did, but her cowl couldn't pick up their frequency, apparently, or else Babs would've already picked it up, hacked it, and she'd be listening in on what they were saying to each other, instead of just half of their conversations. Some even wore the same fin-like blade catcher gauntlets bats wore, only theirs were noticeably sharper. She also noticed a strange insignia on his left pauldron. It looked like a Shield, only it had a single, thin outline around it, as if to set it apart.

Once she was done processing their gear, she turned her focus to what they were doing. Eight of them were going around, in groups of two, patrolling every nook and cranny of the massive two-level room. They carried themselves like professionals, keeping their guns pointed up, and their heads on swivels. Three of the other four were watching over the thankfully alive six-man security team for this floor of the wing, while the final hood, the most heavily armored one present, was dragging the security chief towards the cell of KGBeast, one of the most dangerous hitmen to ever come to Gotham.

Not happening.

She threw a gooperang right at the guy toting the poor Mr. Birch, and threw a smoke bomb at the three guarding the other hostages. As she flew down, attempting to use surprise to her advantage and take the three men down before retreating into the shadows, she figured out one more thing about the helmets the men wore. Apparently, they protected hired wearers from bright flashes, and/or the lenses let them see through smoke. Great, she thought, gliding head first into a fight she'd been told to avoid.

She was still there in the middle of them in seconds, so the element of surprise wasn't entirely lost, thankfully. As she stood and they swirled around on her, she took out her retractable Bo staff, hitting the first two right in their helmets, before jumping at the third, who was unfortunately prepared for her. As she leaped at him, attempting to hit his forehead on the center of her staff before rushing past him and back into the shadows where she could vanish, he put away his pistols, grabbed her staff mid-air and rolled backwards, using her own momentum against her in a move too advanced for Spoiler to counter.

As she flew over him, he kicked upwards with both legs, flinging her in the direction she had been planning on running in, and wrenching away her weapon all in the same move. Steph was fine, though, it took much more than a kick to there gut to put her down. She was up in seconds, and went with plan B, a time honored tradition of the Bats.

Cheating.

As the three chased after her, she used the gooperangs she'd wanted to save for later at them, taking them all down. But, just as she was patting herself on the back for that small victory, the eight other men made their presence known, surrounding her at gunpoint before she could throw down a nine-banger or get out more gooperangs.

Damnit, Steph!

"Don't fuckin' move.", said the man in front of her said through a voice disguiser. She guessed that he was the one in charge, judging by the fact that his shield insignia had two outlines painted in red on the grey pauldrons he wore on top of his longcoat.

As stupid as that move had been, she wasn't. She put her hands in the air.

"Good. You three, get them out. Sergeant, cuff her."

As three of them went to free their comrades as ordered, Steph had her knees kicked out from underneath her by the heavily armored one from before. He then had slapped some cuffs on her that felt overly tight and heavy, and when she looked behind her back, she saw that they were more akin to futuristic shackles, with a bar electricity somehow tethering them to each other. On top of that, another pair were put on her legs.

Who am I, friggin' Supergirl?

"Knight Commander, we have a Bat here. She appears to be alone...yes, sir.", he brought his hand back down from his ear and to the grip of his rifle, and addressed the twelve men now surrounding him, "You two, grab her. You, you're on Birch. I'll take point. The rest of you gather up the psychos and put them on the lift."

Yes sirs sounded off here and there as two of the men grabbed Steph by either arm and started pulling her with them towards the Beast's cell. As the now freed security chief gave her a look that just screamed "I'm sorry", he put his palm up to the biometric scanner and entered the passcode, opening the large, bulletproof glass enclosure that was the Russian's prison. The large man inside had always been brave enough to stand up against Batman, but now he looked utterly terrified. Apparently, he hadn't called for this little rescue. Still, though, she had to hand it to him, he refused to cower or to beg.

"Whatever you're being payed I'll-", his attempt to bargain was cut short when one of the hoods elbowed him in the mouth, knocking out a few teeth and sending the larger man to the floor, hard.

"Shut up!", the Hood yelled, pulling the same kind of cuffs that had been used on Steph out of his large overcoat and slapping them onto the man's arms, which had been forced behind his back by another hood. They dragged the spitting man beside Steph, who was lamenting that she couldn't speak to Oracle at the moment, not without being obvious. But, thankfully, Oracle could talk to her.

"Be prepared this time...All right, Helena's on the way with some backup. Play along for now."

The Hoods were going around gathering up everyone else in this floor of the wing, which was reserved for inmates who did often play a role in the underworld, but usually in someone else's employ. Unlike her and the Beast, they mostly only got zip-tied or regular handcuffs, not the space BDSM devices that were starting to dig into Steph through her gloves and her boots.

Firefly, Killer Moth, Calendar Man, The Kabuki Twins, Rhino, Lady Vic, Humpty Dumpty, Copperhead, every prisoner on the bottom floor of any significance, were all loaded into the wing's lift on their knees. A signal from one of the hoods in the elevator, and one the three hoods guarding them started marching them both over. They were both placed, again on their knees, in the lift, although Steph was kept separate from the others.

The other inmates on that floor, every crazed or intelligent killer for hire who'd managed to use the insanity plea to escape Blackgate, nineteen men and twelve women, were moved to the center of the bottom level of the floor, in plain view of everyone in the lift. As the last Hood walked into the lift, and right before the doors shut behind him, he took a rectangular device from inside his coat, and threw it over his head at the crowd. The explosive blast shook the massive doors, and Steph already knew that not one of them had moved fast enough for it to save their life.

As the lift went up, she tried to use her time close up with these new men to get a better look at them. As she guessed, their uniforms all had some rank symbol in one place or another, usually the shoulder of the jacket or the pauldrons of their armor, depending on how much they wore. As they moved around, keeping an eye on their prisoners, she took a count. One...knight captain?, one knight sergeant, and the rest merely had shield insignia with no outline, which she took to mean that they were all the grunts of the team. She hoped. Because, while her mistake had been the reason they had so easily taken her down, the mere fact that these men thought that they could come here and treat some of the most dangerous people on earth like trash scared her.

She was used to dealing with street-level guys and maybe a true-blue mass murderer like Joker every once in a while. The last time a true paramilitary group had come to Gotham, she'd been a child, and Batman had just barely pushed them back. She still remembered it, when Deacon Blackfire had transformed Gotham's homeless population into a murder cult and used them to take over the entire island. It hadn't been a fun week, and it wasn't a pleasant memory. Stephanie and her mother had barely survived.

But, as the one in charge had mentioned a "knight commander", Steph put two and two together. She wasn't getting home on time tonight, even if Helena managed to get her out of this. As she contemplated new excuses for her mother, The Rhino locked eyes with her.

Oh, no.

"YOU! Y-", The man was stopped short both from his ravings about how she'd put him in there and from his mad dash right at her when one of the men caught him in the face with a kick. He hit the floor so hard he bounced with a sickening crunch. Before Steph could wonder if that had ended him, the same man leveled his rifle with the head of The Rhino, feared thug of The Ventriloquist, and shot twice.

He looked at his captain, who gave him a nod before addressing the crowd of horrified people, "Anyone else feel like tryin' something? No? Terrific."

As he finished, the massive lift stopped moving and the large door opened, and Steph saw just how right she was in assuming that this would be an all-nighter.

"Holy Shit..."


Selina Kyle was enjoying some time playing with Iris, when she heard a knock at her door. Quickly throwing on a robe over her shorts and t-shirt, she got up to find Helena on the other side along with Thomas Blake, the misogynistic loser known as "Catman" in tow. She immediately slammed it shut.

"Oh, come on, Kyle!"

"Come on Kyle my ass! Why is he here?"

"I'm here-"

"You know we've been together for a while, Babs caught us in a...compromising position."

"Barbara? What did she want?", Selina said after her shudder at the kind of innuendo she was starting to regret teaching the younger woman, cracking the door open a bit so that Helena could stop yelling and plainly say what the issue was.

Whispering through the door now, Helena continued, "She told me about something bad at the Asylum. From what she's said, someone's staging either a mass breakout or a mass execution there, we aren't sure. The GCPD can't even begin to stop them, and Spoiler went in halfcocked and is now in need of a rescue.", hearing all this, she opened the door, to reveal Helena, wearing a massive coat that she guessed belonged to the man behind her, as it was enough to cover her entire outfit, outside of her boots. Thomas, himself, was in casual clothes and toting a duffle bag over his shoulder. As Helena took a step forward, Selina jabbed a finger in her boyfriend's direction.

"If you make me regret putting our differences aside, Blake, you can kiss the Bat not caring about you goodbye."

"Understood. May I come in?"

"...Fine.", she said, rolling her eyes as she looked at Helena and realized she wasn't backing down. Selina was ready in just a few minutes, getting into her new suit, the one her Bat had helped her make.

It was just as comfy as her older, grey costume, but her old costume didn't absorb hits nearly as well, and it defiantly didn't block smaller caliber rounds. Her old hat had looked nice, but it wasn't nearly as useful as her new helmet, with an earpiece that could make calls or connect to the Bats directly, and new cat goggles with advanced night vision and infrared vision technology in them. And, while her smaller belt allowed for better mobility, the larger but not too bulky grey belt that came with her new suit was something she had gotten used to, and it held much more than her old belt. Which was something she needed, now that she had better equipment than ever. It was a bit overwhelming at times, but not charging into gunfights with nothing more than her claws and whip was worth the training sessions it took to get it all down. Besides, it didn't hurt that the suit was a return her classic black leather look.

As she stepped back into her living room fully dressed and goggles on, checking and double checking her gear, she asked Helena, now Huntress, the question that had been on her mind as she had gotten dressed.

"Where is everyone else? All I know is that Bruce is working with the League...", noticing Thomas was gone, she added, "And where is that little pet of yours?"

"Boyfriend. And he's getting changed in your bathroom.", the thought of that wannabe possibly going through her things made her uncomfortable immediately, and, noticing this, Helena rolled her eyes before continuing. "Tim is off somewhere with The Teen Titans and The Not-Teen Titans fighting the Hive. Dick is investigating rumors of some legendary outlaw group that he thinks is now operating in Bludhaven, and, of course, Cass is still looking for the pathetic bastard that is her father. They'll all be here as soon as possible, though."

"Honestly, Timmy should just stay away. Kitten is still mad about his leaving without telling her goodbye."

"Tim was stressed out of his mind, it's not like he meant to."

"And? Kitten, what if your ball of yarn in there left town without even telling you, just to be with people who hate you? A couple of which, want him enough to outright threaten you?"

"...Fair enough. And stop calling all of us Kitten, it's confusing."

"Sure thing, Kitten."

"You are infuriating, you know that?"

"Why of course I do Ki-"

"THOMAS?!"

At the yell, Blake opened the door, revealing the massive man in his uniform, missing only his cape and cowl.

"Yes?"

"Shake a leg, we gotta go!"

"Coming."

Soon, the three were finally on the road, Catman on the back of Helena's bike and Selina on her Cat-Cycle, heading straight for Arkham Island, and for the greatest fight any of them had seen in months.