100YoP Chapter Twenty-four "I feel alright." (Patreon)

It wasn’t a long wait. I’d barely had to struggle for a minute that felt like an hour before Batman, flanked by Nightwing and Robin, showed up in front of me again.

I was leaning my full weight against the wall, using my Stick ‘Em powers to stay more or less upright while I waited. The surprise from them using their grappling hooks to show up again so soon made me slide down a bit, but I stopped myself and corrected in time for them to walk up to me.

“Re—” started Batman, before I gave him a lookand flicked my eyes to the security camera. Uncowed, he continued, “Reyes. You know what I’m going to say.”

“Something to the effect of ‘you’re being arrested for your own good’, I’m guessing?”

“Yes. You’re a destabilizing element in my city.”

“God, you’re so pretentious,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead through my mask to try and dispell the dizziness flooding my brain. “Your city? Really? Motherfucker, there’s like five million people in this city. You can’t just claim ownership of it.”

“But I can. I am its protector.”

“Oh, blow it out your ass, Bruce,” I sighed. At everyone’s tensing up, I chuckled, “Oh, not so fun when it’s the other way around, huh? Maybe we keep it to our business names from now on?”

“This is exactly what I mean,” said Batman, gesturing at me. “Look at yourself. Covered in blood, vomit and bruises, and you’re still treating this like it’s a game. People are hurt, Spider. Some might die, if that means anything to you.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know it does.”

“Then act like it.”

“I am. I made sure everyone lived, with the exception of Namond, who is probably getting medical attention as we speak.”

“After you crushed him with an elevator.”

“I was confident he’d live.”

“You couldn’t know that.”

“Except I could, on account of him having stolen my powers.”

“He’s missing an arm. Satya Kamal is missing botharms, James ‘Candy’ Freeman was fused to a bathroom sink, and Lawrence Reed might well be brain dead.”

“But they’ll all live,” I pointed out, trying not to seem surprised at the news about Reed. His frown deepened, so I smiled mockingly. “Oh, are we suddenly against huge, debilitating wounds? Are we making a stance against shattering every bone in someone’s body, buddy?”

“That’s different,” he said.

“You know that most henchmen didn’t have medical insurance before the Goonion, no?” I asked. “The Wayne Foundation helped where it could, I won’t deny that, but you still left quite a few people crippled physically and financially.”

Batman made to say something else, but Nightwing stepped up, “Sa—Spider, this is serious. I know you mean well, but you have to see that you made the city spiral into chaos.”

“I’ll grant you that I might’ve helped spiral the city into chaos, but I am not the only one at fault. And my actions were intended to stabilize the city after the turn’s over.” I gestured vaguely out the window, again almost falling to the floor. Robin jerked forward as if to catch me, but I caught myself and Batman’s arm caught him before he got close. “My people are out there, actually doing something about Namond’s army while y’all waste your time here. As we speak, they are taking over stashes, burning down safe houses and leaving soldiers tied up for the police.”

“As if you don’t benefit from this.”

“I never said I don’t,” I said. “But you all also benefit from it. If you actually bothered to leave well enough alone, this could be one of those rare compromises where everyone comes out of it happier. Namond’s army disperses, I have the means to keep my people safe and employed, and y’all get to have a willing coworker in the underworld. Win/win.”

There was a moment of silence. Robin and Nightwing looked to Batman for their cue, while Batman’s eyes didn’t leave mine.

I tried to see it from his point of view, in that moment. The balance, the mental calculus that must’ve been happening between his ears in that instance.

His personal belief that crime needed to be eradicated, the black and white tendencies of his worldview, balanced against the pragmatism that told him that he could use me to better fight the bigger threats that brewed in Gotham’s underworld. What could be gained from arresting me, versus what would be lost, how Cass would feel about it.

To me it seemed like there was more to gain from not arresting me, but I am biased in that regard.

Still, Batman barely hesitated before saying, “No. No compromise. Leaving you unchecked now will just let you become a bigger problem down the road.”

“Unless you cooperate with me and keep me in check without making it a huge fucking—”

“No. You’d do too much damage.”

“But—”

“I gave my answer,” he said, reaching into his utility belt and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. At his sides, his sons tensed up, ready to fight. “I heard you out, but this is where things end, Sam.”

“... right, heard me out,” I scoffed. “That’s why you left Cass behind to deal with Namond—I’m guessing—so no one on your side would speak out for me?”

He didn’t react.

“... fine,” I said. “Fine! No compromise. Then I’m not asking anymore, I’m telling you that you won’t arrest me today.”

“Don’t turn this into a fight, Spider,” said Robin. “You can’t win.”

“I don’t need to fight,” I said, “And I already won. I won weeks ago.”

They all blinked in surprise, even Batman, and I took the opportunity to stand up and reach into my pocket. They flinched, but I just pulled out a burner and used the speed dial to call the number I’d programmed back in Butchie’s office.

“Boss?” came Farah’s voice over the phone.

“Burn it,” I replied, before turning off the phone, dropping it and crushing it under my foot.

(And they say there’s no more dramatic ways to hang up since we got rid of flip phones.)

“What did you do?” asked Batman, stepping forward. At my smug smirk, he reached out and grabbed me by the sides of the jacket, screaming, “What did you do?!”

“Ask Oracle,” I said.

He blinked, probably assuming the worst, before his head twitched to the side, probably hearing her speak.

“... how...” he breathed, before grabbing tighter and roarding out, “How did you gain access to the BatComputer?!”

Robin gaped, Nightwing’s eyes went wide and his hands went to his baton.

I smiled.

“Did you think it was just Nightwing and Robin making moves when they came over for dinner?” I asked, giving Batman a pitying look, “Installing that backdoor through their phones was well worth the day spent getting rid of all the bugs they planted.”

“You used the dinner against us?” Robin asked, frowning.

“What’s this fucking double standard?” I asked, actually letting out a laugh as I said it. “Every fucking time any of you that I’m not fucking came into my apartment, I had to waste hours of the day that could’ve been spent working getting rid of all the hidden microphones you planted, but now that I turn it back on you, you start clutching your pearls?”

“That’s—!” Robin started, before hesitating. Still, he continued, with a bit less confidence. “That’s different.”

“Oh, it is, isn’t it?” I said. “After all, you all always get the warrants and do the procedure required, no? You’re all so fucking accountable for your actions, right?”

Robin and Nightwing winced. Batman was still clutching me and glaring down.

I looked him dead in the eyes as I spoke, “As we speak, every piece of evidence you have on me and mine is being burnt from your computer. I’m sure Oracle would’ve been able to stop it, but part of the process included bricking the computer she last used, and I doubt someone in a wheelchair could get from the Clock Tower all the way to her personal laptop, which she tragicallyhad to leave behind after someone had to call a bomb threat at her workplace while she was in the bathroom.

“And while she might be able to recover the files, it will take months of work after Weaver’s program is through, and I’m pretty sure those months are going to be better spent recovering the files on your investigation on Black Mask that have also been erased, since he’s definitely going to start making moves after all the instability uptown.

“True, you could bring me in now anyways, but you’re gonna have a real hard time making any charges stick since the only evidence left is circumstantial. And let’s not forget, as we speak there are dozens—if not hundreds—of gang fights breaking out throughout half of Gotham.

“Fights that are leaving behind wounded, tied up soldiers, plus whatever collateral happens. I mean, my guys have been instructed to avoid civilian casualties, but who knows what Namond’s people are doing, right? Plus, the only person taking care of the situation is Spoiler, and she’s ignoring my people in exchange for being informed of where she’s most needed.

“In short, you’ve got a dozen irons on the fire. And as much as it wounds my ego to say, they’re all more important than me.”

Batman gave me the worst BatGlare I’d gotten since he saw Cass sit on me, before turning to look at his sons.

Nightwing seemed to be busy deciding if he wanted to laugh, gape and or swear, but Robin was checking some kind of wrist computer (BatSmartWatch?) with a worried expression. When he looked up at Batman, he gave a nod.

Batman turned back to me.

I smiled again and said, “So? What’s it gonna be, B?”

He reared back his fist then punched me so hard I blacked out.

{[X]}

Unexpectedly, I didn’t wake up in jail.

{[X]}

I sighed with satisfaction as I leaned back in my chair.

Medical attention, a shower, and a night full of testing my newly-empowered metabolism with copious amounts of cheap high-proof alcohol (not in that order) had done me a world of good.

Sure, my right eye was bruised so hard I couldn’t see out of it, but life’s about rolling with the literal punches of your future father-in-law.

Around my office, my friends sat around. The general ambiance of the room was one of satisfied exhaustion, with Billy and Yua putting ice to drinks and bruises, while Farah just drank.

Billy’s arm was in a sling and he had a few bandages around his wounds, same as Yua. They were both speaking softly and splitting a bottle of whiskey between them, Yua already well on her way to being turnt the fuck up.

Farah was sitting next to my desk, quietly nursing a beer, lost in thought. I’d been a bit upset when I heard that she put a guy in a fucking coma, but when I saw how she felt about it, I let her know that I’d support her no matter what and that she shouldn’t hesitate to rely on me if needed.

I doubt she was in any state to appreciate it, but hopefully I’ll be able to help her when the time comes.

I reached for my glass, realized that I was using the hand with cracked knuckles, and switched hands to grab my glass of Coke before I made my way to my office’s window, letting me look down to the bustling scene of my club.

Lots of Goonion folks down there, as well as my actual soldiers. The line was blurring a bit between both groups, and I predicted more than a few people flowing from one side to the other in the coming weeks. As it was, they were sitting side-by-side, partaking in food, drink and the show.

Sonya’s girls were walking around, available for all to look at. Some were offering private dances as soon as booths became available, some were dancing wherever they found the space for it, and others were acting as waitresses.

The clients were... bruised, battered, nursing gunshot wounds... and happy. The battle had been won, and they all looked happy with where and how they were.

Everyone seemed... satisfied.

A bitter feeling rose in my chest and curdled there, growing heavy.

“Future’s looking bright,” Billy mentioned.

I rested my arm on the glass and looked down, pressing my forehead against my arm, “Is it?”

“Man, don’t act a bitch just ‘cause you’re in the doghouse,” he scoffed, probably rolling his eyes.

I grumbled something, but it’s not like he was totally wrong.

Cass hadn’t been happy about me taking advantage of that dinner to get one over her family. Then again, she also had disapproved of her family planting bugs in my apartment and trying to arrest me after I pointed all that out, so I think she was equally mad at everyone.

I did feel a little bad about that. I hoped Steph could spend time with her so she wouldn’t only be surrounded by people she’s pissed at.

“I’m serious, Priest,” I said. “I personally spat in the face of Batman, and he’s definitely gonna hold a grudge. What I did to keep the Bats and cops off our backs is a stopgap measure at best, plus I forced Farah to give a guy brain damage, and that’s not even getting into the fact that there’s definitely still remnants of Namond’s army holding a grudge and waiting to strike out at us, plus all the gangs we have to fight off for as long as we remain in the game, which is to say for-fucking-ever!”

By the end of it the words were coming out in a rush, and my volume had raised a bit.

I stopped, took a deep breath, and sipped at the glass in my hands, careful not to rest my lips on the cracks that had formed under my grip.

My crew failed to say anything, and I just stared out my office, before I weakly gave voice to the thoughts that had been plaguing me, the background radiation of doubt that I’d been steadily ignoring by focusing on Namond:

“What if I just set you—all of you, and them downstairs—to die?”

For a while, the only sound in my office was the noise from downstairs. An amalgamation of conversations, laughs, clinking glasses, pouring drinks, and the music blasting through the speakers so the strippers could dance to it.

Farah, surprisingly, was the first one to speak up.

“You didn’t force shit.”

I blinked, then turned around. That’d been the first full sentence I heard from her since we all met up again after the hotel.

She looked me square in the eyes, and said, “You. Did not. Force. Shit. I am a grown-ass woman, and I made the choice to put Lawrence Reed out of our way for good. Just because I’m... struggling, with the choice, doesn’t mean you should start acting like Jesus with the fucking cross, okay?”

“... you’re eighteen,” I pointed out, because I am a huge dick. “Hard to describe you as a ‘grown-ass woman’.”

“Motherfucker, you’re eighteen too!” she pointed out. “Why do you do this?! Why do you feel the need to shoulder the blame of every little fuckin’ thing that happens to us?!”

I blinked, surprised, before softly saying, “I’m the leader. It is my fault—”

“All of us could choose not to follow you,” she said, “Alright? Get that through your thick fucking head. Even if you do fuck up, we choose to stick by you. And you should know that if I ever choose to leave, I’ll leave, just like I know that you would let me leave if I ever chose to.

“That’s the thing about being friends, dipshit. You don’t really gotta hang out if you don’t wanna.”

I hesitated. Was I really being so... condescending?

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly hard to believe, but still.

I looked away for a moment. When I spoke, it was pretty weakly.

“... sorry.”

“It’s—” Farah stopped herself, took a deep breath, and spoke more calmly, “I’m sorry I got angry, but you gotta understand not everything is on you.”

“Just most things?”

“Don’t be cute, you’re bad at it.”

I snorted.

“The point is,” she said, “If we die, we die. That’s the game. That’s how the game is always going to be. We chose to play on your side, and so far, you’ve kept us afloat. Have a little more confidence in that, okay?”

I blinked, then I leaned back against the glass, deep in thought.

A new track came through the sound system. A country-themed dancer took to the stage.

I closed my eyes.

{[X]}

Spoiler ran through Gotham’s rooftops, snow scattering under her feet as she landed, then ran through a small bank of snow before jumping off and shooting her grappling hook.

The wind parted before her body, sending her cloak fluttering behind her, then the hook unlatched and let her shoot forward for a while before the rope rewound, and she fired into another building so that her trajectory would turn sideways, sending her flying down a different street, towards where her homemade police scanner told her the hostage situation was.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Robin, looking at her as he too ran towards the situation.

She smiled under her mask, then rushed forward a bit faster.

Time to see what moves Boy Wonder had.

{[X]}

Sonya sat in the back seat of the car, trasmitting the directions given by the app that cute friend of Sammy’s had cooked up.

The soldier parked the car a corner away from the meeting place, then turned it off and turned in her seat to give her a look. She smiled at him, winked, and walked out, generously pretending not to notice the healthy blush that rose up on his face.

She jaywalked across the street, quickly getting into what used to be a vacant that had been discreetly fixed up to her desires so that she and her girls could be comfortable working. Heating, a low-pile rug that was comfortable to fuck on, drinks and a few things for the kinkier Johns.

She quickly discarded her trenchcoat, leaving her in one of the sets of lingerie she’d bought with her new Bottom Bitch pay, and helped herself to a cold bottle of champagne, sitting down on the couch with practiced sensuality.

In somewhere between fifteen and thirty minutes, the John would walk in. She would flirt, they would fuck—or talk, if he was one of those that was just lonely—she’d leave him with a kiss, get her coat and walk back to the waiting car.

And then she would be able to wait out in the comfort of her apartment as the snow raged on outside, and if she pleased, not take any more work that night.

Life was good.

{[X]}

Sandra Reyes looked out the window, staring up into the night sky.

Her hands clutched a bottle of whiskey, tight enough her knuckles turned white.

She thought about her son. Her only son. She thought about what he could’ve been doing at that moment, about the danger he was in, and thus the danger others around him were in. She thought about how much she’d failed for him to get to that point.

She looked at the bottle. She removed the cap, then walked over to the kitchen sink and poured it out.

She could be strong. For just a bit longer. He would need more people to lean on in the coming days.

She dropped the bottle, then fell to her knees and cried.

{[X]}

Batgirl looked down at the gangbangers sitting around on a corner, huddled against the cold with nice coats and joking amongst themselves. Every so often, a ‘customer’ came along and they sent them around the block to pick up a set of vials.

Painted on durags, coats and pants, was the symbol of a Spider.

Her Spider.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare behind her mask, and for the first time in a long while, she hesitated.

Only for a second.

One minute later, they were all bruised, beaten and tied up for the police to find them. And Cassandra was on her way to the next corner.

Tipping the scales back into balance.

{[X]}

There was a moment of doubt as Alice stood in her living room, choosing what she would and wouldn’t take. A moment where she just stood there, suitcase in hand, purveying all the items she’d collected over her years since she’d left her parents’ house.

There was a moment, a singular moment of mindfulness, where she looked around and realized she was turning her back on everything she’d built.

Metropolis was nice. More than that, the whole city was... kind. There was a gentleness in the general attitude of people there that was completely missing in Gotham.

Did she really want to turn her back on that?

Then the moment ended, and only the only possible answer remained.

Yes. Yes she did.

Maybe it was the constant feeling of being out of place in shining Metropolis. Maybe it was the nostalgic feeling in her chest whenever she spotted trash on the street and thought she spotted broken vials. Maybe it was the creeping dread that she’d been losing the edge that she’d grown so proud of, like most Gothamites did.

Maybe it was some lingering, misplaced, useless feeling aimed at that idiot.

Whatever the case, she knew where she was meant to be.

She started filling the suitcases.

{[X]}

A team of detectives sat around, all staring at a whiteboard. What had previously been filled with references to different files had been wiped clear.

They were starting from scratch. They were stretched thin with everything going on. They were tired. They were angry.

But they were not giving up.

No. If there was one thing that the GCPD’s Major Crimes Unit did not do, it was giving up.

With a simple but emotive gesture, Detective Harvey Bullock took a physical photo of their main suspect, Samuel Andrés Reyes, and put it at the top of the whiteboard, stuck there with clear plastic tape.

Then, he took a marker and wrote in bold words next to it, “KEEP IT ANALOG”.

This was planned to be a long-term investigation. Resources would have to be focused on the capture of Namond Little’s ‘army’, and then whatever inevitable bullshit popped up. But that was fine.

This would be a case that would be won by playing it slow. Gordon had promised to keep the pressure off of those tasked with the investigation so that politicking wouldn’t get in the way, and senators wouldn’t be able to point fingers and complain about ‘wasted resources’.

Still, there was a hard limit on how much time they could spend on this. And every second wasted was another chance for Reyes to slip away.

They got to work.

{[X]}

I opened my eyes.

“Sam?” asked Billy. “You good?”

I thought about it, then shrugged.

“I feel alright.”

Author’s Note: Alright, with that, this goddamned story arc is finally finished! It had its ups and downs and I’d be lying if I said I’m totally happy with the end result, but I did my best and I hope y’all enjoyed it.