Foggy sat in the corner of Josie’s, sipping away at his beer. Shaking like a frightened animal whenever he saw someone with large muscles move. He never felt as comfortable at Josie’s as much as Matt did. A cramped bar full of men with hard expressions and scars, the tension felt like dynamite with a short fuse. If it wasn’t for Josie, Foggy was pretty sure this bar would be the subject of various assault cases every night. Foggy didn’t know why he frequented this bar and at this point it was habit so he wasn’t going to stop frequenting it anytime soon.

After having a few solid drinks (some of them tasting a lot like bacon) he left the bar and he noticed in the corner of his eye a few big dudes in leather jackets suddenly getting up.

Foggy quickened his pace outside the bar as around 3 burly dudes in leather jackets followed behind. Unfortunately, they were faster and they pushed him into an alleyway.

“You’re the suit that let old Grotto out of the slammer, aren’t you?” said a man in the middle whose bald head reflected what little light there was in the alleyway.

“Yeah, that’s the fat one,” said his friend who had a dragon tattoo that curled around his ear. “There was a blind one too.”

“Where’s your blind friend fatso?” said the man on the right who had a big bushy beard. “Huh?”

Foggy remained silent.

“You see this scar on my stomach?” Baldie said, pulling his leather jacket up. “Old Grotto was the one who put a knife in my gut. Beat the shit out of some of my boys too. Y’know the Sunnyside Biker Gang, counsellor?”

Foggy shook his head.

“Well, we don’t forget shit easily,” Baldie said. “And now we hear the lawyer that let the bastard that gave us grief out is walking into Josie’s without a care in the world. How’d you think that made us feel, eh Fatso?”

Foggy didn’t have any answer to that. Instead, he thought back to college where him and Matt were out late, blitzed and they ran into some assholes who wanted to fight. Things escalated but Foggy being as drunk as he was started to dance, those assholes were confused and decided to leave him and Matt alone.

So maybe, Foggy thought. Just maybe he could dance right now and things would de-escalate. He took and deep breath and…

Found himself knocked out with a bruised face lying in a pile of trash without his shoes and suit jacket. Damn you Matt, Foggy thought.

…

Matt pushed Sergei aside and leapt to the side as Gladiator charged at them like a rampaging bull. He heard the sniper reloading and ducked out of the way as a bullet ricocheted off the walls. But the bullet wasn’t aimed at him. No, it was aimed at…

“Elektra!”

Elektra brandished her Sais and deflected the bullet with a deft flick of her wrist.

It was at that moment Gladiator charged straight for the wounded Sergei who was trying to escape the room. Matt sprinted towards him and leapt, putting all his weight into a tackle diverting Gladiator’s path. Gladiator stumbled. Matt almost collapsed but picked up the sound of the gun being reloaded just in time for…

“SERGEI GET DOWN!”

Sergei ducked on the ground as the bullet grazed the spot where his head would have been just seconds ago. Gladiator regained his bearings and let out a roar of anger. Matt kicked him across the face. Gladiator fell backwards and Matt used the opportunity to bound of the wall and kick him across the face.

“Elektra get Sergei out of here!” Matt shouted.

Another bullet was fired, this time at Gladiator. Gladiator let out another roar, blood running down his mouth as Matt tackled him to the ground, the bullet grazing through his back. He heard Elektra leave the room with Sergei. Pain burned through his back but he had no time to pity himself as Gladiator grabbed him by the arms and ran with him through the walls like a battering ram.

The walls splintered around them. Matt’s body felt like hell. Gladiator’s grip loosened around Matt and he crumpled to the ground trying his best to fight the exhaustion spreading through his body. Just then he heard the gun load through the blood rushing through his head.

Matt sprinted and grabbed Melvin by the throat. Melvin writhed, trying to rip him away. He twisted his body around and pulled him down as the bullet bounced off Gladiator’s armour. Matt’s grip loosened around the Gladiator and he fell to the floor. He could hear his heart pounding like a drum playing in his body and his body crying in protest at the burdens he placed on it. He almost didn’t hear Melvin raise his fists in anger and his heart booming with rage.

Elektra led Sergei through the worn hallways, narrowly avoiding bullets. Sergei let Elektra pull him around until a bullet grazed her shoulder.

Elektra keeled over. Sergei took this opportunity to elbow her in the gut and ran away from the scene. Elektra grabbed one of her Sais, trying to ignore the pain flaring through her arm. She threw one of them at Sergei, it missed him by inches and clattered on the floor limply. Elektra took the second one and threw it and it hit Sergei’s arm. Sergei screamed in pain and stumbled, tripping on the floor. Elektra quickly ripped a piece of her red suit and wrapped it around her bullet wound. Elektra walked to Sergei and before she could reach him a bullet exploded through the splinters.

Matt rolled out of the way as Gladiator’s fist met the empty spot he once lay.

“You’re getting weaker, Devil,” Gladiator said. “I can see it in your movements.”

“Melvin,” Matt said through breaths that felt like fire. “Get out of there. I know that this isn’t you. I don’t want to do this to you.”

“I told you, Melvin isn’t here anymore,” Gladiator said. “It’s only the Gladiator.”

Matt sidestepped as Gladiator let out another punch.

“I don’t want to do this Melvin,” Matt said. “Betsy doesn’t want me to do this. She told me about your dad.”

Gladiator roared. “Don’t you dare speak about this.”

Matt raised his fists to block the second punch.

“That Gladiator came about to protect you,” Matt said. “From your dad. From those fights he made you do.”

“SHUT UP!” Gladiator roared. “DON’T SPEAK ABOUT STUFF YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND.”

Melvin got a punch under his arms, directly into his stomach. Matt coughed up air and keeled over.

“I want to know if Melvin is still there,” Matt said, blood pouring out of his mouth. “So, I know if I can let loose.”

Gladiator threw another punch but Matt dodge it with ease, pressing a pressure point on his arm that caused Melvin to let out a scream as his hand hung limply at his side.

Matt grinned despite the blood pouring out of his mouth. “Cause right now, Gladiator. I’m starting to have a little fun.”

The bullet hit Elektra’s leg. She fell on the floor, blood running down her thigh.

The assassin was reloading. He was a damn good shot, if her and Matthew weren’t as trained as they were they’d have neither of their heads right now. Sergei ripped the Sais from his shoulder and made a slow jog away from Elektra. She tore another piece of her outfit and wrapped it around her leg. She picked up her two Sais, dragging herself across the wall she got up.

This man was obviously trained. A master of firearms, he was a worthy adversary and a powerful challenge to overcome but Elektra, Elektra loved challenges. As the assassin reloaded, she ran through her mind the intervals at which he shot. Trying to determine their trajectory and where the bullets landed. She didn’t have Matthew’s special senses to guide her so she would have to rely on her instinct.

The assassin was skilled. He only fired at specific intervals. Elektra assumed to get a perfect shot so that he could kill his target. It would’ve worked on typical targets. They weren’t typical targets. It would seem he had limited resources otherwise the assassin wouldn’t be so deliberate with his shots.

With those factors into consideration Elektra had to deal with each bullet as if it was the assassin’s last. The assassin fired once, Elektra flicked her wrist and deflected the bullet to the side. Reloading and a five second wait. The assassin fired again and this time Elektra was clumsy and the bullet grazed her shoulder. There was a long pause before the third shot. Elektra thought the assassin would shoot her. She thought wrong.

The bullet was headed for Sergei.

Gladiator swung his other arm clumsily. He got up and swung his body around like an elephant but his movements were clumsier and his occasional hits were flimsy.

Gladiator placed all his strength into one swing which Matt easily dodged. He ducked underneath it and punched Gladiator in the jaw. Gladiator stumbled backwards but Matt was relentless, he swung his leg across Gladiator’s face.

“Stop it,” Gladiator growled as blood ran down his face. He swung out desperately but Matt ducked and punched him across his face. “STOP IT!”

Gladiator swung again and Matt dodge easily and tackled him across the floor. Gladiator held out his hands but Matt punched through, pummelling him repeatedly in the face.

“Stop it,” Gladiator please. “Please stop!”

Matt punched over and over until Gladiator’s face bloodied. Gladiator tried defending himself but Matt ignored it and kept punching across the face until…

“Please stop,” Melvin cried. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The cold eyes of the Gladiator were replaced by the bloodied tears of Melvin Potter. Matt, realising this rolled to the floor. Blood was pounding in his head and all he could see in Melvin’s face were bruises and tears. Melvin looked at his fists, blood dripping down from his fingers and onto the floor.

Matt got off Melvin as he choked on his tears and leaned on the wall, breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry,” Melvin cried. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Elektra would’ve let Sergei die. The weak should defend themselves, she thought. But if she didn’t, she’d lose Matthew’s trust and she couldn’t have that, at least not yet. It would be the tactical decision too as the assassin wouldn’t be so desperate as to kill a person that wasn’t their target unless he was running out of options. The world felt slow, the bullet zoomed through the window. Elektra threw her Sais at the bullet. It wouldn’t reach the bullet in time. The bullet broke through the Sais as it dangled on the floor. The bullet ricocheted and struck Sergei…

In the leg.

Sergei collapsed on the floor, cursing in Russian. Elektra rolled on the floor, picking up her broken Sais. She needed every advantage she could get. She waited as Sergei groaned in pain. She waited and waited. Body tensed and breathing controlled. When the assassin didn’t fire, she assumed the assassin left.

She was right this time but being an assassin herself she knew one principle from experience.

An assassin never leaves a mark alive.

…

They made it to Elektra’s warehouse always watching their backs. Elektra was on the rooftops, making sure that they weren’t being followed. Meanwhile, Melvin walked behind them clutching his arms and casting a wary eye at Matt.

As soon as the door to the warehouse creaked open, Betsy’s heartbeat spiked in anticipation. She ran towards Melvin running a soft hand over his face.

“Oh my god, you’re okay,” Betsy said, wrapping him in her arms.

Elektra crawled in from the sunroof, landing on the floor barely making a sound. Matt leaned on the wall, unwrapping the bloodied bandages on his glove and also removing his gloves unveiling the bruises and scratches on his fists.

Melvin sat far away from Matt. He could sense the fear in his heart.

“What’s wrong?” Betsy asked.

Melvin pointed at Matt. “He scares me.”

“What did you do?” Betsy asked, turning to Matt.

“He snapped,” Matt said. “Turned into the Gladiator and I had to defend myself.”

“Don’t say his name,” Betsy hissed. Betsy stared at his face. “God, did you do this?”

Matt nodded.

“That’s awful,” Betsy said. “This is excessive. Jesus look at all those bruises, you didn’t have to go this overboard.”

Matt was silent.

“That doesn’t matter,” Elektra said. “What matters right now is Melvin. Right now, he’ll be on the hitlist of all the major crime families in Crime Alley. That includes you.”

“He’ll need protection,” Matt said.

“We can keep them here,” Elektra said. “Until we deal with their supplies. We can…”

“No,” Matt said. “That’s too dangerous. If an assassin or anyone finds out where we’re hiding, Melvin will have no one to protect him. He’ll need legal protection.”

“That’s insane,” Elektra said. “Half off the GCPD is under one or another family’s payroll.”

Betsy nodded. “She’s right. Not to mention that even if they don’t decide to kill him right there in the precinct, Melvin wouldn’t last a day in prison.”

“Who’s to say he’ll go to prison?” Matt asked.

Betsy scoffed. “Are you naïve? Half the judges and prosecutors are under someone’s payroll. There’s no way they’d let Melvin get the help he needs.”

“I know some lawyers,” Matt said. “They can help.”

“Even then,” Elektra said. “Someone could kill him before the trial. Who’s to say the officers in charge can be trusted?”

“Gordon,” Matt said. “Commissioner Gordon. If Batman trusts him, we can too. He can form a team and…”

“How will you even get to him?” Betsy said. “The Commissioner is a busy man and we all know as much as he loves this city that Crime Alley is a lost cause to everyone. Even the cops here don’t care. Do you think he has the time to listen to another masked vigilante?”

“You’ll need someone who can get you to him?” Elektra said. “Do you have somebody who can vouch for you?”

Matt smiled. “I know just the right person.”

…

Commissioner Gordon walked atop the rooftop, cigarette in mouth as the Bat signal blazed in the sky. Lurking in the shadows was Batman and a new, younger and less obedient boy wonder in bright clothes.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Batman,” Gordon said. You could see that the Commissioner had not been sleeping well after his recent divorce. His hair had traces of white and he had a small beard growing on his chin. A belly was starting to form and his eyes were starting to sink. “Kid.”

“I’ve been busy,” Batman said. “How’s Barbara?”

“She’s doing alright,” Gordon said. “Her rehabilitation is slow but… it’s a process y’know? I’m just glad I got that Wayne grant when I did. Anyway, what brings you up here? Normally I’m the one who does the calling.”

“We need help,” Batman said.

“You and the boy?” Gordon asked. “Why would you need my help?”

“No, not us,” Batman said. “Him.”

“Ease up on the fried food commissioner,” said a voice behind him. “It’s not good for your heart.”

Gordon turned around to see a man jumping down from the doorway, wearing a cloth mask over his face and what looked like a jersey and black cargo pants.

Gordon sighed. “Oh god, another one.”

…

“You need a team,” Gordon said. “Of officers I trust to protect this Melvin Potter. Pretty small team.”

“Yes,” Matt said. “Until some lawyers I know can negotiate ideal terms for him, we need to keep him in a remote location. He won’t be safe in prison or holding cells.”

“Yep,” Robin said. “Nobody likes snitches. He wouldn’t last a week.”

“What’s in it for us?” Gordon asked.

“Melvin knows the location of various weapon caches and supply routes of various crime families,” Matt said. “We have a witness in Melvin, we can nab them.”

“Your lawyers are going to have a hell of a time,” Gordon said. “You know half the prosecutors are under someone’s payroll.”

“They’re damn good lawyers,” Matt said.

“I’m going to be moving around a few men here and there,” Gordon said. “There’s no way I can keep this hidden.”

“Just for a while,” Matt said. “Until I can get the case sorted out.”

Gordon sighed. “There’s only a few cops I can vouch for. A meagre few. If anyone finds out where they’ve been going, I don’t think Melvin will be safe.”

“I can help,” Robin said grinning. “It’ll be easy.”

“No,” Batman said. “You focus on your training. I’ll make sure Melvin is taken care off. We’ll ship off Melvin to an undisclosed location only people in this room will know.”

Robin looked like he was about to interject but realised it was no use and quieted down.

“I’ll listen around,” Gordon said. “See if any of the other boys in the precinct caught wind of what’s going on.”

Matt nodded. “Okay. If anything happens you call me by this number.” He handed Gordon a number.

“We have a deal then?” Matt asked.

Gordon nodded, reaching out for a handshake. “You better not make me regret this.”

Matt shook his hand.

…

“Come on Foggy pick up,” Matt said, pacing around his apartment as the phone dialled. He had rung Foggy three times before and he hadn’t picked up. The number you have dialled is unavailable, please call again later. Matt called Theo instead.

“You have reached Nelson’s, the number one butchery for all your beef and barbecue needs,” Theo said. “How may I take your order?”

“Hey, Theo,” Matt said. “It’s Matt. I’ve been ringing Foggy but he hasn’t been picking up. Is anything the matter?”

Theo sounded confused. “That’s weird, I thought Foggy was with you. He said he’d be staying over at your place yesterday.”

“I was busy yesterday,” Matt said. “So, I rented a motel room for him.”

“Uh huh,” Theo said. “Anyways Foggy’s in the hospital.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Oh, nothing big,” Theo said. “He got into a fight with some goons over at Josie’s because of that Grote case. He’s okay minus the bruises.”

“That’s good to hear,” Matt said. “Do you know which hospital?”

“Oh, just Leslie’s clinic,” Theo said.

“Thanks, Theo.”

“Oh, do you want anything?” Theo asked. “We just got a fresh new batch of sausages.”

Matt shook his head and smiled. “No thanks, Theo. Thanks for the offer though.”

Matt hung up, making his way to Leslie’s.

…

The door to the office opened and Haruka stepped in.

“Let me just sort things out,” said a woman with dark screen and frizzled hair. Her Japanese was a bit stiff but Haruka appreciated her attempt. It felt good to speak a language she knew well. “Do you need anything? Coffee or tea?”

Haruka shook her head. She sat on a comfortable seat, looking around the small quaint office with a slow fan dangling overhead and creaky seats. The office that promised her a new life.

Haruka promised Kyoko, promised her that she’d live on. That she’d start a new life in Metropolis or New York but every time, every time she closed her eyes she’d be reminded of her lifeless corpse and how the man who murdered her got away, how there was no justice for Kyoko.

The woman called her. “Come in,” she said. “Please mind the office, it’s been a while since we got clients.”

She’d heard about the Wayne Relocation plan from hushed whispers around town. A new opportunity for people like Kyoko who’d been forcibly removed from their homes. A chance to either go home or start new lives in America.

The office was a mess. The old table was burdened under the weight of various folders and files. On the left was a table with a flock of sticky notes pinned on it. Stacks of books and even more files were littered around the office. There was a phone on the table atop the various lodged between two file stacks ringing away into oblivion.

“Hold on, let me take this.”

The woman picked up the phone speaking English. After a few exasperated words, she placed the phone back in its socket and turned to Kyoko with a smile.

“So, what do you need?” she said in Japanese. “Do you want to go back to Japan? You mentioned Metropolis. We don’t have many branches over there but I do know a few people who could teach you English and find a place for you to stay.”

But Kyoko wasn’t paying attention to her. For some reason she found her attention turned to the board and the various faces plastered on it.

“Who’s that man?”

Kyoko pointed at a man with hard eyes and charcoal black hair. His skin looked to be made of stone and his eyes fire.

“Oh, that’s Fernando Hernandez,” the woman said. “He’s a very bad man. We’ve been trying to track him down for a while now but every time we catch him, he gets away. Why, do you know him?”

Haruka squinted and then she remembered. She remembered Kyoko’s dead body and the face of the man that killed. It felt like her breath had been squeezed out of her body. She keeled over as the woman rushed over to her, hand on her back.

“Are you okay?”

Haruka regained her breath, fighting back the nausea. “I know that man,” Haruka said. “I know what he does.”

“We can get you away from him,” the woman said. “You don’t need to be scared.”

“No,” Haruka said through grit teeth. “No, I’m not scared. This fucker killed somebody I loved. I want to see him rot.”

“Did you see him?” the woman asked. “Did you actually see him kill your boyfriend?”

“Girlfriend,” Haruka said. “I saw him kill her. I saw him pull the trigger and everything.”

The woman rushed to her phone, ringing a number.

“Do you think you can testify?” she asked.

Haruka nodded. “Yes, I can. If it means that bastard gets what he deserves, I will do anything.”

Somebody on the other end picked up. “Yeah, John. Remember Fernando? Yeah… yeah… I know. I know we need a witness… yeah will you shut up and listen? Remember that shooting at Oriental Delights? People were saying Fernando was involved but nobody could really testify. Well guess what? I have a witness.”

Shouting on the other side of the phone. Excited shouting.

The woman grinned. “Yes. I think we have him in the bag.”

…

“What did I say about keeping it lowkey?” Foggy shouted.

“Quiet,” Leslie Thompkins said as she placed a stethoscope over Foggy’s bare chest. “I can’t have you waking up my other patients.”

“Sorry,” Foggy whispered. “Matt, you basically want us to defend a snitch.”

“I know,” Matt said. “But he can help us get our reputation back on track. If we get him to tell us everything, we can nab some of the assholes that have been controlling Crime Alley. We can show the people around here we’re on their side.”

“Even if we do that,” Foggy said. “Do you know how much danger we’ll be in? Those families will be trying to scare us out of it! Something already happened with my family’s store. I can’t afford to let it happen again.”

“I managed to get Gordon in on this,” Matt said. “You’ll be safe. I promise.”

“I don’t know Matt,” Foggy said. “It still sounds pretty risky to me.”

“You’ll be fine,” Leslie said. “Just be sure to avoid stressful situations though with this guy around.” Leslie said, turning to Matt. “I doubt you’ll be able to.”

Foggy grabbed his shirt and started buttoning it up.

“Come on Foggy,” Matt said. “We have this in the bag. If we manage to get through this our reputation will be saved.”

“What happened to starting a new firm?” Foggy said. “I found a way to help out Mrs. White. We can get out of this hellhole. Start somewhere else. Somewhere less small and dangerous.”

“This our home Foggy…”

“I know that,” Foggy said. “And we can still help out in other ways. The people around here hate us. I couldn’t walk down the street without being stared at. Hell even in this clinic people were looking at me dirty. The people don’t want us here. They don’t like us anymore.”

“We can make them like us.”

“Once you break someone’s trust,” Foggy said. “It’s not easy to get it back. Matt, I know how much you love this place but I don’t think this is the way. We can do other things. We don’t have to do something this dangerous.”

“Fog, this man is mentally ill,” Matt said. “He’s been through hell and back and if the prosecutors get their way, he won’t last a day in prison. Half of the defendants are either under one family or another’s payroll and if we let him take that route there’s no guaranteeing his safety. Foggy do you really want his death to be on your hands?”

Foggy sighed. “No but…”

“Foggy, the thing that separates you, separates us from the other lawyers in this shithole of a city is that we still believe in justice,” Matt said. “If we don’t do anything justice won’t be done. Melvin will die in prison without getting the help he needs or suffer in Arkham Asylum. Is that justice?”

Foggy sagged. He was looking up. Matt could sense the hesitance in his heart, smell the reluctance on his body.

“No, it isn’t,” Foggy said.

“Do you trust me, Foggy?” Matt asked.

“I do,” he said.

“I hope so,” said his heart.

…

Matt heard silent footsteps on the rooftop. “Batman told me you can hear me from here,” whispered someone.

As Foggy entered the cab, Matt stopped. “I realised there’s something I left at home. I’ll see you at Betsy’s office.”

Foggy mumbled a half-hearted yeah as the door closed and the taxi drove off. Matt listened to the footsteps stalking after him and lead them to an alleyway that reeked of garbage.

The boy wonder dropped down and walked towards him. He couldn’t have been more than 12 years old.

“I didn’t know you were blind,” Robin said. “No wonder this thing has dots all over.”

Matt was silent.

“Hello, it’s me Robin,” he raised up his hand to his eyes not before putting them down. “Look the old man said to look for Matt Murdock. He doesn’t like being out in the day especially because of his…” Robin clamped his mouth shut realising he was about to let off more than he should’ve.

“I know about the leg,” Matt said. “What’s in that paper you’re holding?”

“Melvin’s location,” Robin said. “In case you need it or in case things get dicey and he needs your help.”

Matt took the slip of paper and ran his fingers over it. He placed the paper in his pocket.

“Do you mind if I ask a question?” Robin asked.

Matt was silent. He stared at the boy.

“I’m going to ask it anyway,” Robin said. “How do you, y’know? Do the things you do? Seeing as you can’t… you know?”

“Magic.”

Robin shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve heard. You should see his computer.”

Matt could sense it in his excited heartbeat that the kid wanted to ask another question.

“What?”

“What?” the boy asked, shrugging.

“What do you want to ask?”

“Are you Matthew Murdock?” Robin asked. “As in the Matthew Murdock? The kid that threw himself in front of a truck to save an old man?”

“You a Crime Alley kid?”

The kid nodded.

“You know I can’t see it if you do that right?”

“Oh,” Robin said. “Yeah, I’m a Crime Alley kid.”

“Look, tell your old man…”

“He’s not my old man.”

“Whatever,” Matt said. “Tell him I don’t appreciate him snooping around my business. Tell him I don’t appreciate the fact that his little kid in pixie boots knows who I am.”

Robin sighed. “Fine.” Robin pulled out his grappling hook. “You guys are both so boring.”

“For the record,” he said on top of the rooftop. “I really don’t know why you pushed that old man out of the way. It was really stupid.”

He heard Robin’s footsteps receding off the rooftops before they disappeared completely.

“I don’t know why I did it either,” he mumbled to himself.

…

Hey Elektra, it’s Matt.

Elektra found herself in the outskirts of Gotham City, following the road uphill to the sparsely spaced mansions where the elite of Gotham lived to get away from the city they ruined. She passed by a road that was ruined just a few months prior when the Penguin kidnapped Bruce Wayne.

I found out where Melvin is and… I won’t be able to make it. Foggy and I will be too busy building a case and I’ll need someone over there to protect Melvin someone I can…

Matthew took a deep sigh before continuing.

Elektra climbed atop the tree, navigating through the rich shrubbery. She looked behind her and saw Gotham looming ahead, lights starting to blaze to life as night time fell.

… Trust. I don’t… trust you. I can’t trust you but I know this thing affects you too and I know you’ll do it because of that.

She waited till the police car passed before climbing down and following it.

Batman will be there. So will Gordon and some officers. Just tell them I sent you.

She followed them to a remote building, what looked like an old farm. They were very few police cars for a witness like Melvin. 8 in total and around a dozen police officers. Commissioner Gordon didn’t have a huge circle of trust. Some officers looked like they’d been stationed here much earlier than the rest. Elektra assumed the officers were dispatched to the location and random intervals throughout the day so as to not arouse suspicion.

She heard the engine of the Batmobile roar in the distance and soon it grew louder and louder until the Batmobile parked in front of the farmhouse.

The door of the Batmobile slid open as Batman leaped out. He walked to the back, opening the door and brought Melvin out.

They’ll let you help if you let them know I sent you.

Elektra remained in the shadows as Batman brought Melvin into the old farmhouse. Waiting for the perfect opportunity.

…

“We found her, boss.”

Grotto stared at the half-empty cup of whiskey, blankly. He was thinking about Liam. Sure, they’d been through a lot of rough patches and if he was being honest with himself, Liam probably hated his guts but he was his little brother god dammit and somebody had murdered his little brother.

And he still remembered her. Remembered her black hair and those bright red clothes that were like a warning sign. What he wouldn’t do to bloody those clothes of her and wrap his hands around her throat till the life drained out of her face and until that moment came all he had was his whiskey.

“Found who?” Grotto mumbled.

“Her,” Sean said. “The broad who killed your brother.”

At that Grotto perked up. “Show me.”

“Some PI I hired,” Sean said, spreading a bundle of photos on the table. “Saw her with the Devil…”

“The Devil?”

“The Devil of Crime Alley,” Sean said. “The masked arsehole who killed Sweeney.”

“Go on,” Grotto said.

“They were busting up Sergei,” Sean said, showing Grotto a photo of the girl and the Devil entering a derelict building. “Came out with this guy, Melvin Potter. Apparently, word on the street was that he was supplying the Cartel and some of the Falconies and Maronies with some special armour.”

“I don’t care about that,” Grotto said. “Is she one of those freaks. Those heroes or whatever the news calls em.”

Sean smirked. “Oh no, boss. I think she’s playing both sides.”

“Go on.”

“My PI did some digging,” Sean said. “Turns out the broad’s name is Elektra Nachos or something like that. Her dad was rich, bringing in the big bucks. He got that money from people like us y’know what I’m saying. Her dad died when she was in college and she went AWOL after a while. Came back as a mercenary doing all sorts of odd jobs. Right now, she has a contract with none other than…”

Sean pulled out another photo. On that photo Elektra stood in front of the rear window of a black sedan. A sedan Grotto knew all too well.

“Fernando.”

“Bingo,” Sean said. “This Elektra broad’s working for the Cartel and it’s entirely possible they ordered the hit on your brother and y’know what that means.”

“War,” Grotto said, finishing his glass of whiskey. “It means war.”

To be continued…