It was going to be a very hot night.
Whereas before Henry and Co. had merely staged an attack on Mafia-owned buildings in hopes of framing the First, now the psychotic bastard was serious about declaring a natural war by killing the head of the Maroni family.
No, I suspected that my opponent was insane, but I didn't think it was that bad. Hmm, although the original Joker did it in a similar way: he didn't care about the rules and just had fun getting his hands on Gloomy Mouse.
But killing Sal made no sense at all, even to a complete madman, because now Hugo's patient would be searched ten times harder, using every resource available. If I were the First, I'd try to lay low to set a trap at a charity event, maybe rob a couple of banks to pay my subordinates. But after the mafia incident, his own minions will turn him in at the first chance, wanting the reward that is sure to be forthcoming.
Eh, it's definitely not possible to take a day off today to explore the renovated workshop, but there is a real 3d printer in it! And when I say "real", I mean that as an additive technology uses electron-beam melting of metal powder, so that the products created by the printer come out quite strong, and if you really want, you can even print a gun. Yes, this process is relatively slow, but it has a number of undeniable advantages over plastic printing.
Honestly, I really want to blame all the problems on Bats, but I realize that Babs will definitely go into the city to do good and do justice. So we should be nearby to come to the rescue in case of trouble. Still, the Mafia are no ordinary gangsters. Most of them can handle weapons to a decent level and are trained in team tactics.
"No, Mr. J! Let's not go anywhere!" Harley clung in vain to every joint we encountered, unwilling to leave her cozy new lab.
I was only superficially familiar with chemical equipment, but apparently the girl had something like my printer, and the five million dollars spent (including the rebate) hinted that this thing was incredibly cool. At the same time, I could feel the playful mood coming from the blonde, so I didn't stop dragging her toward the exit.
"Come on, sweetheart. We need to help the city a little," I urged my beloved, carrying her on my shoulder and squeezing her soft ass in tight shorts like an anti-stress.
"You've spent your whole life wanting to tear Gotham down, and now you want to save it. You have to be consistent in your decisions!" The indignant hamster managed to wriggle out of my arms and stand upright in the elevator doorway, preventing me from moving him.
"Honey," I stroked the blonde's back gently, feeling her body shiver for a moment, "Mouse is bound to go into town, and I don't want to put her at risk. You know there's not much hope for Bats. Even the bare-assed Jokers had him beaten to a bloody pulp.
"Well, if you put it that way... Well, what you wouldn't do for redheads," Harley agreed to join in, shaking her gorgeous hair and dyeing it gold.
The departure had to be delayed a bit.
We now had several secret tunnels at our disposal leading outside the estate. So first I had to study all the documentation thoughtfully to understand the controls and get the Aston underground on the cargo platform. I also spent a long time deciding what suit to wear today. I was itching to try on the Joker again, but with a titanic effort I managed to refuse this option. Though I'm not going to lie, if it weren't for the First's performance and the fear of getting a couple of extra holes in my body from the conditional allies, I'd definitely wear a stylish purple outfit that didn't require a motorcycle helmet to hide my scars.
The way to the big land was not very convenient, compared to the way it was done in Gloomy Mouse. First we had to take a long ride through a rather winding dark tunnel, and then we had to go through Bristol. Still, I wasn't rich enough to dig secret passages underwater all the way to the island. But in spite of some difficulties, we reached the center, and then started on patrol, preparing to crush the disturbance, which was not long in coming.
***
The night was really hot and eventful. Localized conflicts broke out here and there all over Gotham, which the four of us (including the recovered Bats) successfully resolved, but everything went quite differently from what I had expected.
Within an hour of the battle between Beaver and Donkey, it was clear that there was a brazen redistribution of zones of influence. The Falcone family, instead of hunting for the First or his underlings, who occasionally flickered in different parts of the city, were simply destroying their competitors, both physically and economically, destroying their infrastructure. And these bastards also clearly had some kind of cunning plan, because as soon as the police or us appeared in the vicinity, they would immediately fall face first into the asphalt, allowing themselves to be calmly detained. They even acted the same way at the sight of Batgirl, who was not yet a real heroine. Heck, after that, I didn't have the heart to break anything! Besides, the bandits fought against the same bandits, almost without hurting ordinary citizens, which was to their advantage.
"This is some kind of nonsense..." I cast a weary eye over the interactive map with markings.
It's morning, and now we are sitting in the batpit, eating another cake brought by the caring Alfred.
By the way, Barbara was also with us and tasted some amazing pastries as she managed to figure out the real identity of the latex-clad superhero by accidentally finding the license to Bruce Wayne's name in the glove compartment of the Batmobile*... Ha ha ha, just kidding. In fact, he confessed it to her himself for some sort of reason of his own. And what else can you call the little clues and a few caveats left for the girl, with the help of which she managed to figure it out on her own?
"No, it's all part of one big plan," Bruce's stern voice interrupted my musings, and a second later a stack of photos landed on the table.
"Juan Maroni, Silver Maroni, Vincenzo Maroni," I read the signatures to the first three. - I'm guessing they're Sal's relatives?
"Not just relatives," Bruce shook his head. - Juan Maroni was the consigliere-the chief advisor and second man after the head-and the rest were junior bosses. Falcone's men were purposely eliminating the rival high command, and I'm sure they were acting in collusion with the First.
"Why would he do that?
"People," the man replied weightily.
"I don't understand," I shake my head. - He's the only active supervillain at the moment. All he has to do is point a finger and a bunch of assholes will follow him. And given that we haven't even caught the people Michael's recruited into the ranks of the fucking clowns with guns yet, he doesn't even have to pay them at first.
"I didn't tell you today, but the caterers hired for the fundraiser have been trying to infiltrate the ranks of those with criminal records for days now. I think they're doing it for a reason," a few taps on the screen built into the table, and the map changed to a multitude of names connected by threads. - The Falcone family, despite their illegal activities, has a legitimate business, as well as a large number of subordinates not directly connected to the mafia.
"Hmm... So the First wants to get into the festivities with a cheerleader... Ha ha ha, that's wonderful! Do you know what that means?" I stared happily at Gloomy Mouse. - My brilliant plan just needs to be given the green light!
"What's the plan?" Harley asked, and Babs finally managed to tear herself away from the cake, ears perked up.
In fact, the commissioner's daughter was clearly dumbfounded by the fact that she'd been invited to the secret lair of Gotham's protector, so she was silently nibbling on baked goods, doing the familiar thing. Well, I'd be shocked too, if I learned that the most famous multi-billionaire has a fetish for latex suits, and that he's built himself a huge hideout under the mansion, where he can fit a lot of equipment, including a personal airplane, which Dracula himself wouldn't hesitate to fly because of the visual resemblance to a bat. But back to the conversation.
"An ingenious plan to bring back the Joker! I mean me. Less killing, more fun, all legal and allowing me to enjoy a double life, ha-ha-ha! Well, ideally," I said modestly.
I was looked at with eyes shining with delight.
"Cool *-*," the cutie was next to me, rolling up in her chair. - Doesn't your brilliant plan involve the return of a pretty blonde with a great sense of humor? Don't get me wrong. I like this outfit," she smoothed her dress, "but the image of a harlequin or at least a deadly cheerleader is somehow closer and... cozier to me.
"Hmm," I looked at my faithful assistant with interest as her hand slid under my shirt, gently stroking my abs. - I felt something similar when I tried on the purple suit, and I didn't try to hide a crazy smile. As for the plan, it naturally involves bringing back Gotham's hottest couple, but there are a few things we need to work out," I shifted my gaze to Bruce.
"You have permission, so deal with this on your own and leave me out of it. Harley, stop harassing Jay, there are children here," the mansion owner turned to Sailor at the end of his speech.
"Hey, I'm not a kid anymore!" The kid, who had been sitting quietly in the corner by the batcomputer all this time, trying not to look away, was indignant.
I have a feeling there will be a new addition to the batsamily very soon.
"You may have grown physically, but mentally you're still a fourteen-year-old," Gloomy Mouse sieged the boy.
"A teenager whose parents died in front of him and who underwent a deadly modification in the custody of a mystical organization that turned him into a strong and dangerous fighter. Why didn't you let me join the raid?
"You're not ready yet," the superhero replied firmly. - Until you pass the test, don't even think about fighting. I may have removed all active bookmarks, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of failure. Besides, your fighting skills are still a little rusty. You know how to fight and kill, but without the right reflexes, even he," he nodded in my direction, "will easily overpower you.
"I know exactly who the Joker is, so I'm not buying it," Richard's gaze stopped on Harley.
"Oh, the little guy decided he could challenge me?" The blonde grinned happily. - Mr. J, may I?" I looked up with pleading eyes, palms folded prayerfully.
"Go ahead, but don't do any self-mutilation.
"You what?! I'll break his arm or leg at most, - my favorite was on her feet and deftly pulled out a bat from the pocket on her skirt, from which the kid's eyes widened in surprise.
"No weapons," the owner of the mansion intervened, shifting a little to the side.
"Oh, Betsy's screwing things up again. All right, attack me, you little bastard. Aunt Harley won't beat you up too bad.
"Oh, you!
Grayson lunged to attack, but the blonde was ready and uncomplicatedly kicked him in the stomach, throwing him back into the chair.
I wasn't too worried about my battlemate's health. Rick's body might have been modified, but the owls hadn't had time to finish it, so he was almost the same size as my favorite. Only the girl was stronger, since Ivy had made her a budget version of a super-soldier.
Harley won the fight, though not quite by a landslide. Grayson had a good reaction and flexibility, thanks to gymnastics, so the little shit still gave her a couple of bruises... Well, the earth is round, I'll see you around the corner.
"You see that now, Dick? It's too early for you to become Gotham's protector," Bruce stood over his adopted son sitting on the floor and lectured him.
If I were him, I'd cheer him up, or he'd start doing everything out of spite. Although Bats seems to have a knack for psychology, so he should know better than me.
"Psst," Harley whispered loudly, causing the bat-kin to interrupt the conversation. - Did he really call the kid a dick?
"Looks like it... I wouldn't be surprised if he also dressed him up in colorful spandex.
At those words, Mysh choked on air, and Babs snorted amusedly, trying to contain her laughter.
As it turned out later, we were in vain. The abbreviation Richard - Dick is quite acceptable, and even looks not too alien to English speakers. Besides, that's how his parents (sick bastards) called him affectionately, which was important to the kid. I had to apologize, and under Bats's disapproving gaze I had to give him a gun seized during today's raid.
On that cheerful note, our batcave hangout was over and we headed home to get some rest before a new day.
***
In the morning I woke up before Harley as usual. After doing my usual motions, I began an intense workout, during which I suddenly realized that the spoon was gone... Or rather, there was no pain. Not at all. Afraid to spook this wonderful feeling, I proceeded to create a regular firefly.
A dozen seconds later, a yellow ball hangs in front of my face, and I can't hold back a happy smile. I don't know what's happened to my seventh beginning over the past couple of days that I've been so bent out of shape (the three points I've gotten are clearly a poor reflection of my progress, and the logs are in no hurry to share the details), but now my mana is much more mobile and easier to form the necessary weaves. I don't even need to mention that I immediately cast normal regeneration on myself.
Hmm, now that magic was available again, it was time to get to work on my ambitious plan. I quickly packed up and drove to a notable estate, taking with me a handful of pills and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. Harley had been instructed yesterday, so she should be able to handle it without my wise guidance, since I had an illusory chance of being hospitalized for a couple days.
The gloomy mansion at 12 Jefferson Street greeted me with a closed, heavy wrought iron gate that clearly had no intention of opening as I approached. Well, no one said it would be easy.
I touched the flaps, wondering how to climb over, but suddenly they opened majestically to let me in.
"Hmm... Can I take that as an invitation?" I asked myself, stepping onto the stone path.
"Strange...
No one greeted me, though I waited at the entrance for a while, listening to my body and preparing to pop some vomiting pills.
"Zee, you're not mad anymore?" I step up onto the porch with a little apprehension and hesitate at the door.
Only silence was the answer.
"I'm coming in," I warned, not waiting for any response.
After turning the knob, the door swung open welcomingly.
As soon as she crossed the threshold, the lamps in the hallway lit up, illuminating the way. The sorceress must be busy with some ritual right now and couldn't come up.
I walked forward down the corridor to the familiar Turkish-mystic living room and waited, slowly experimenting with prana, but after ten minutes or half an hour no one came out to see me.
*Secrecy breach: https://youtu.be/wYupIxZNghQ