Did You Ask My Opinion?

Talon scaled the wall, leaped across the rooftop, and landed on a utility pole.

He tore off his damaged beaked mask and swept his bloodstained long hair back.

He closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring in the breeze like a vampire trying to catch the fragrance of blood in the damp air.

"Found you. I've found you!"

Talon lifted his cape and concealed himself in the darkness before the next flash of lightning.

His targets were hardly difficult to find. At night, the East End was the most dangerous place in all of Gotham, especially in the rain. Even criminals wouldn't wander around at a time like this-except for the four fugitives.

Hurried footsteps splashed through puddles, spattering filthy water against the walls. The noise carried across an entire block.

Alfred led the way, while Casey brought up the rear, keeping William and the "double" protected between them.

As for Floyd, his job was done. There was no reason to drag an uninvolved party any deeper into this. William and Bruce both felt that way.

"So you've been standing by all this time, watching Gotham fall apart bit by bit?" With a moment to spare, William decided to ask a few questions.

"Yes."

Bruce kept his words to a minimum, leaving Alfred to fill in the rest.

"In fact, Master Wayne hasn't fully recovered his memories. He only remembers the past two years."

"Then how did he confirm his identity?"

"A recording." Bruce's answer was as brief as ever, though if he truly objected to talking, he could simply have kept quiet.

"The young master prepared contingencies for various emergencies, including memory loss. The solution was a videotape he recorded himself, detailing his background and the journey that led him to become Gotham's vigilante."

"Thanks for clearing that up, Mr. Celebrity Manager."

After a moment of surprise, the older man flashed a playful smile that belied his age.

"My pleasure."

"Look out! I think he's here!"

Casey called out a warning from the rear.

Almost simultaneously, rapid footsteps approached through the curtain of rain behind them, pounding like a furious drumbeat.

Hiss!

A sound like a guitar slide sliced through the air beside their ears. A projectile filled with powerful acid lodged in Alfred's stab-resistant vest. The older man tore off the smoking garment and fired into the darkness.

Talon tilted his head to dodge the bullet, then pushed off with his toes and caught up with Batwoman.

He caught her heavy punch, yanked her arm back, and vaulted into the air off her back.

Following their plan, William abandoned the "double" and dove aside.

Even now, he worried whether Bruce's acting could perfectly capture the double's fear and desperation.

His concern proved entirely unnecessary. Bruce tripped over his own feet and fell, curling up on the ground with his arms around his head.

"Don't kill me... don't kill me!!!"

His screams were even shriller and more anguished than the double's. It was almost impossible to imagine that voice coming from Bruce, who had been so sparing with his words just a moment ago.

Alfred stopped as planned, pouring gunfire at Talon as he tried to regain control of the "double."

Talon swung his hidden blade to deflect the bullets, kicked Casey down before she could ambush him, and seized the "double" by the collar before leaping onto the roof.

The cautious man didn't retreat immediately. He hooked a finger beneath the "double's" chin.

Once he confirmed that the face belonged to Bruce Wayne, Talon stopped fighting.

"Next time, I'll slit your throats in your sleep!"

Leaving that threat behind, he swept his cape around himself and vanished into the rain.

"Oh, God... it's finally over."

Casey pulled off her mask and ran a hand along the edge of her cape, where the hidden blade had slashed it.

Alfred swung out the cylinder, spilling hot shell casings at his feet.

"No, Miss Kane. The real trouble has only just begun."

Alfred was right. The trouble had only just begun.

Talon remained on his guard, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with Bruce in his grasp.

After crossing several blocks and confirming that no one was following, he grabbed Bruce's tie and shoved him to the edge of a roof.

"How did you know I was coming to save you, rather than kill you?" The tie slowly slipped through Talon's palm. If Bruce's answer failed to satisfy him, he would let go.

"I saw... I saw you..."

The information William had extracted through interrogation came in handy. As Bruce timidly described witnessing Talon's attack on the Mad Hatter, Talon pulled him back.

"Heh. Seems you know more and more. Once the job is done, perhaps I should silence you for good, too?"

"That wasn't the deal!"

"Relax. We need a Bruce to keep making public appearances. I'm not the only one with my eye on the Wayne fortune." Talon swept back his long hair, and the face beneath it made Bruce's breathing quicken.

The oil painting.

That young, handsome face had appeared in a portrait at Wayne Castle.

Talon jumped down from the roof with Bruce, but just as they were about to cross an empty intersection, an engine roared around the corner.

A black Rolls-Royce swung into view, its spinning rear wheels whipping the standing water into mist.

"You just won't stay gone!"

Talon thought little of the unwelcome arrival. He was about to grab Bruce and jump onto the roof when a Winchester poked out of the car window.

Bang!

Before the gunsmoke cleared, a severed hand spun into a puddle.

Bang-!

Another shot pinned Talon to the wall just as he tried to draw a projectile.

"Hahahaha! Ready, you little bastard?!!! I won't miss this time!!!"

Accompanied by an almost deranged roar, the car accelerated straight into Talon.

The front crumpled, and flames engulfed the hood. Caught off guard, Talon was torn in half at the waist by the tremendous impact. His upper body writhed and howled in the fire as the acrid stench of burning flesh spread through the crime scene.

"Let me see, let me see. Who forgot the olive oil while cooking?"

The mangled door was kicked away, and under Bruce's astonished gaze, a thick-soled combat boot stepped into a puddle.

Deathstroke slung the shotgun onto his back, then raised the submachine gun at his chest and emptied another magazine into Talon.

"Wait..."

"Why should I wait!?"

He had no intention of giving Bruce a chance to explain. He kicked him back against the base of the wall.

"I'm really pissed off right now! All because I got mixed up in your bullshit. A whole year! Do you know what this past year has been like for me?"

Deathstroke paced back and forth through the intersection, sighing with his hands on his hips, spreading his hands and shrugging. He just wanted someone to vent to. He didn't care who.

"While I had amnesia, some idiot told me I was Batman. The crazy part is, I believed him! Can you imagine? I actually believed that bullshit and spent a month working in that ridiculous costume, all for two hundred fucking dollars a day!!!"

As his complaints wound down, Deathstroke gradually calmed.

He drew his sword and laid it against Bruce's neck.

"All this scheming is exhausting. I'll kill you first, then everyone at Wayne Enterprises!"

Bruce wiped the blood from his cheekbone and pointed behind Deathstroke.

"How about you look behind you first?"