Defender of Atlas - oneshot (Patreon)

I decided to try out a different style, and this is the result.  I hope you enjoy it!  

**

Weiss captured every gaze while studying the results on the screen in front of her, searching for an answer acceptable to herself and the various competing interests seated around the table.  She hated rushing such weighty decisions, but she’d also learned that an extended deliberation provided peeks into the mindsets of those most impacted by the decision.

The head of sales shifted in his chair before long, confirming the underlying impatience she’d sensed the moment she shook his hand.  Thankfully, he seemed to be the only one harboring an issue, as only a few other restless motions broke the respectful silence.

“Run another round of testing first,” she eventually said.  As murmurs of consensus swept the room, she made direct eye contact with the head of sales and added, “There will be plenty of time to get to market - we have to make sure this is safe first.  Understood?”

She waited for his nod, which he reluctantly gave, before looking around the rest of the conference room.  Sensing no other objection to her decision, she stood up and said, “Good.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”

The men and women sitting around the table might wonder what plans she had at such a late hour, but they knew better than to question her as she stood up, pulled on her needlessly expensive white jacket, and grabbed her lavishly fashionable handbag.  They would likely bicker and squabble for another hour, but she had no need nor desire to be included.  Instead, she nodded to the security guard posted at the door and left the stuffy room behind.

She took a deep breath in the hallway before heading towards the lobby, keeping her shoulders square and her chin up as a single annoyed gaze followed her through the glass wall.  The head of sales, who might not hold that title for much longer, had the decency to wait until she was out of view before questioning her unwillingness to follow money at the cost of safety.  Unfortunately for him, his complaints would fall on deaf ears - the board of directors had yet to raise a finger at any of her plans.

While replaying the meeting in her mind, searching for any other hints of defiance, she took a short, secluded elevator ride to the ground floor of the extravagant hotel.  Polished golden doors released her into a cavernous, overly opulent lobby showing far more signs of life than the meeting room levels.  Well-dressed guests loitered around the room, sharing colorful, overpriced drinks at the busy bar or engaging in private conversation at one of the many seating areas.

Attention naturally drifted her way as she crossed the room, her silver heels clicking against the shining marble floor, but she didn’t entertain the observers with a glance.  Nor did her pace falter when she noticed the crowd that had gathered just outside.

“Have a good evening, Miss Schnee,” the bellhop said while opening the door, tipping his black cap to her as she nodded and stepped outside.  No sooner had her foot touched the vibrant maroon carpet leading away from the hotel did the crowd spring to life.

“Miss Schnee!”

“Sorry, no questions,” she replied on autopilot, brushing a microphone away from her face without a second thought.  A flimsy black rope held the reporter several steps away, but he doggedly followed her from behind it.

“Will you support your sister in the election?” he pressed, but she gave no response - and no gesture that could be construed as a response - while sweeping past.

“Have you decided what you’ll do with the old filtration plant?” the man beside him cut in, extending another microphone that she also ignored.  “Will you turn it over to the city?”

Doubtful, she thought to herself.  Outwardly, she kept her eyes trained on the black limousine and smartly dressed chauffeur waiting at the edge of the sidewalk.  More questions were shouted at her, as if one of them might somehow provoke an answer, but she paid them no mind.  Instead, she nodded for the chauffeur to open the passenger door so that she could go home.

“Are you concerned about the new gang leader in The Graveyard?”

Two steps from freedom, she stopped and, against her better judgment, turned around.  It didn’t take long to spot the sprightly young reporter at the front of the pack, whose bright silver eyes, messy brown hair, and casual attire suggested her presence was a mistake.  The press badge hanging around her neck said otherwise; as did the fact that she’d somehow elbowed her way through a group of pushy men twice her size.

“What did you say?” Weiss asked, her question directed to the brunette alone.  The other reporters turned towards the unexpected victor, whose unassuming smile implied she was here for a pleasant conversation with friends.

“According to one of my sources, there’s a new gang in The Graveyard.  Their leader’s calling himself ‘The Scarecrow.’”

Weiss’ brow furrowed at the unfamiliar name, but she worked her jaw back and forth before asking, “Who’s your source?”

“If I tell you, how will they stay anonymous?”

The slightly teasing smile belied intelligence, cunning, and a knack for finding breadcrumbs others missed.  Secrets lurked behind those expressive silver eyes - secrets Weiss wanted to know, but now was neither the time nor place to pry.

“That sounds like a job for the Atlas police department - doesn’t it, Miss Rose?”

“Ruby.”  Rather than be discouraged by the curt response, Ruby pressed on.  “Schnee Industries owns like half of The Graveyard - shouldn’t it concern you that it’s being run by criminals?  Drug deals and robberies happening in broad daylight?  People scared to go to work, keeping their kids home from school?”

Weiss clenched her jaw and glanced at the other journalists, who were now more interested in her answer to Ruby’s question than their own foolish concerns.  So, as much as she would like to play this game with Ruby - prying information from each other without giving too much away - she had no choice but to offer a canned response.

“Schnee Industries is committed to the safety and prosperity of Atlas,” she replied calmly.  “But we defer to the honorable men and women in uniform to carry out the law.  If there’s a new criminal organization in The Graveyard, it’s up to Atlas P.D. to respond.  We’re happy to assist however we can.”

Before Ruby dragged her further into the conversation, Weiss flipped her long, white braid over her shoulder and returned to the waiting limousine.

“Or Batwoman can help, right?”

The comment froze Weiss midstep, but she quickly set her foot down and spun around.  Ruby’s smile remained unchanged, but silver eyes watched her more intently than she appreciated.

“You want a headline?” she said, stalking back to Ruby to make her point clear.  “Fine, here’s your headline - Batwoman is a vigilante with no place in this city.  No one is above the law, especially not some cape-wearing delinquent who refuses to show their face.”

Ruby hardly reacted to the response - nothing more than a slightly raised brow - but Weiss scolded herself for responding at all.  Frustrated now, she spun on her heel and stormed away.  “Home, please,” she told the chauffeur before ducking into the limousine and sitting with a huff near the door.  Her gaze returned to the group of reporters only once while the vehicle joined the traffic leading away from the hotel, searching for one last glimpse of messy brown hair before shaking her head and clenching her fists in her lap.

She’d mastered how to deal with reporters years ago, but Ruby had an uncanny ability to get under her skin.  When all anyone else seemed to care about was politics or what she did with her wealth, Ruby shone a light on more pressing matters with well-timed, well-crafted questions.  That, along with her dogged persistence in a male-dominated industry and her inescapable earnestness, always caught Weiss off guard.  And, most annoyingly, Ruby seemed as oblivious to her natural beauty and charm as Weiss was aware of it.

Unfortunately, Ruby might be growing wise to her ability to instigate answers when others couldn't.  She had become a regular at any widely recognized event Weiss attended, and apparently she would be popping up at unscheduled gatherings as well.  Needing better control around a sleuth of a reporter, however, was now the least of Weiss’ current concerns.

If Ruby was right…if there was a new gang in The Graveyard…that was the last thing Atlas needed.  The overworked, understaffed police department already lacked answers for the infection breeding in Atlas’ underbelly.  Every time they treated a symptom, a new one appeared, and they possessed neither the resources nor the gall to strike fear in the hearts of the criminals determined to tear Atlas apart.

Instead, the war waged daily, with law enforcement gradually ceding more and more ground to lawlessness and chaos.  The Graveyard would be the first district lost to darkness, but which would fall next?  Which once-quaint, peaceful neighborhood would find itself in the grip of yet another psychotic, cruel gang leader?

One thing became clearer by the day - this wasn’t the Atlas her grandfather had envisioned.

Sighing at the thought, she leaned her elbow against the window, her head on her hand, and watched the streets pass.  As the sky darkened, everything changed.  Shadows lurked on doorsteps or loitered in alleys.  Those unfortunate enough to be caught out late walked quickly, hands in their pockets or clutching their belongings close, cautious gazes flitting around but never making direct eye contact.  Patches of light offered a reprieve - the well-lit stairways leading up to the train tracks, the entrances of every government building, a police precinct, the busy hospital - but those sanctuaries were few and far in between.

Weiss watched an ambulance pull up to the emergency room, lights flashing but siren off, before closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the headrest.  After another exhausting day of meetings and corporate gatherings, she wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot bath and crawl into bed.  Ruby’s question, and her eerie ability to know things before others did, ensured that wouldn't happen.  So Weiss rested as much as she could now, listening to the tires against the road and feeling every small bump until the limousine slid to a stop.

Only then did she open her eyes to watch tall iron gates slowly opening, granting the vehicle access to the long, winding drive leading to a mansion sitting atop of the hill.  Lights lined the driveway, illuminated every window, and bathed the front entrance in a soft, warm glow.  The spires and overly decorative façade had never suited her, but she couldn't bring herself to change anything either.

Once the vehicle stopped in front of marble stairs leading to the large wooden double doors, she let herself out.  “Thank you,” she directed to the chauffeur, who nodded, before making her way up the steps and inside.  A thud echoed through the cavernous, three-story entryway when the heavy door closed behind her.  A crystal chandelier glowed above, silver sconces added splashes of brightness along the walls, and several ornamental lamps stood near the wide, open doorways leading further into the house.

With the world shut behind her, she took a deep breath and sighed.  Almost immediately, footsteps headed toward her, and a short, balding man with a thick brown mustache poked his head into the entryway moments later.

“Ah, there you are.”

“Good evening, Klein,” she greeted him as he hurried over and motioned for her jacket.

“Welcome home, Miss.  How was the meeting?”

“Mundane, as usual,” she answered while he helped her out of the jacket.  “Why can’t you go in my place?”

“Because I’m not the CEO of Schnee Industries.”

“What if I made you CEO?”

While he chuckled at the idea and hung the jacket in the hall closet, Weiss raised her hands behind her head, looked up at the chandelier, and sighed.  The stillness of the massive home had bothered her when she was young, but these days she appreciated the privacy offered by sturdy walls and perpetually drawn curtains.

“Can I get you anything, Miss?” Klein asked after several moments of silence.  Dropping her arms, she glanced toward him and shook her head.

“Thank you, but I’m fine for now.”  When he nodded and prepared to leave, a thought returned to the forefront of her mind.  “Klein?” she said.  “Have you heard anything about a new gang in The Graveyard?  Or someone called ‘The Scarecrow?’”

His brow furrowed and his lips pursed as he mulled over the name, but he ultimately shook his head.

“Sorry, I don’t believe I have.  Would you like me to do some digging?”

“Thank you, but I’ll take care of it.”  Still thinking about Ruby’s question, and the implication behind it, Weiss said, “I’ll be heading out tonight.”

Klein’s mustache twitched down, but he clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head.  “Be careful, Miss,” was the only concern he expressed, but Weiss smiled and patted his shoulder.

“Aren’t I always?” she teased, but his frown encouraged her to add, “I’m only going to poke around.”

“I’ll prepare the bandages…” he muttered while heading towards the kitchen, earning her bemused smile as he went.

Rather than dawdle in his absence, she made her way to the ornate elevator connecting the various floors of the home.  The glass doors slid open as she approached, letting her step right in and place her palm against the scanner.  Only after verifying her handprint and taking a retina scan did the elevator’s side panel display the floor selection, on which she chose the basement.

As the doors closed and the elevator spurred into motion - the entryway smoothly disappearing from view - she calmly undid her long, white braid.  Drab concrete walls were the only thing to look at while she pulled her hair into a high ponytail instead, but eventually those walls gave way to nothing.  As suddenly as a light switch snuffing out a bulb, the elevator shaft changed from trapping her in to offering an incredible view of a vast, dark chasm.

Distant lights clicked on as the elevator lowered further, illuminating an immense metal platform built out from the rock walls of a natural cavern.  Dozens of computer screens, grouped together along one side of the platform, snapped to life.  An even larger television screen clicked on above them, showing readouts and camera feeds from around the estate.  Display cases lit up, revealing black suits of armor and an array of coordinating accessories.  A floodlight snapped on, casting the image of a bat onto the center of the floor.  A pitch-black plane, its wings glinting under the lights, rested on its own platform even further out above an immense drop.  A long, sleek black car sat on another, waiting to be called into duty.

By the time the elevator doors slid open, the cave had transformed from darkness to a bright, well-equipped lab.  She glanced up while walking out onto the platform, watching hundreds of small black creatures flit through the air above her.  Their leathery wings added a constant fluttering to the slight buzzing of overhead lights and machinery, and their rapid movements added an almost frenetic energy to an otherwise still space.

At the nearest computer terminal, she swept her previous work into a folder and opened a new screen.  “Alright, Ruby…” she muttered while typing ‘The Scarecrow’ into the search field.  “Let’s see if your source checks out…”

Weiss watched the loading bar creep towards completion as the system scanned every database at its disposal.  Police scanners, news stations, online media, and private repositories alike couldn't hide from her prodding, which was why her brow furrowed when the first search returned nothing.  Undeterred, she attempted several others using a wider net of words that left her equally empty-handed.

With images of violence and destruction scattered across the screen - shards of glass covering the sidewalk outside a vandalized storefront, a manufacturing plant on fire, friends and families in tears - she finally stood back and frowned.  According to these results, no one calling themselves The Scarecrow existed in Atlas.

If the information had come from anyone else, Weiss would have ended her investigation there.  But Ruby might know something that hadn’t even made it into the city’s general consciousness yet, like a cut that had just begun to fester but the infection hadn’t yet set in.  If this new threat existed, Weiss had to find it and deal with it before it grew out of control.  She wished she knew who tipped Ruby off but, absent that, she would consult her next-best source - and the one she avoided using too often for fear the connection would lead to future trouble.

Leaving the computers behind, she crossed the platform, opened a glass display case holding a suit of molded black armor, and began putting it on.  A large, jet-black image of a bat had been emblazoned across a gunmetal chest plate made from a triple-weave kevlar strong enough to stop a bullet.  The suit thinned in other areas, offering much-needed flexibility at the expense of some security.  A long, scalloped black cape draped behind - the unearthly material possessing the qualities of silk until pressed otherwise.  Hardened gloves and sturdy boots joined the ensemble before she reached into the case and removed a black, bat-like cowl.

After fitting the cowl in place, she clenched her fists.  The well-worn leather stretched over her knuckles before releasing, the familiar feeling erasing any hint of nerves.

Through the act of putting on a mask, it felt like she removed hers.  Only when freed of the shackles of her family’s name and legacy could she be the person she was needed to be - not a silver-spooned socialite but a protector, a defender, of Atlas.

The armor plating absorbed blows meant to cripple Atlas’ once-great industry.  The backward-facing blades on her bracers severed supply lines feeding corruption.  The cloak shielded those beneath it from harm.  Glancing at her reflection, she didn’t see herself - she saw what Atlas had made her - a direct and counteractive response to the evil spreading throughout the city.

Her grandfather always said that if they listened closely enough Atlas would tell them what it needed.  She kept that memory in mind while carefully checking each component in her yellow utility belt before buckling it around her waist.  She double-checked her bracers last, then flipped her cape behind her and strode towards the sleek black vehicle parked on its own platform.

As her footsteps echoed across the metal walkway, the cabin lights blinked to life as if waking from a deep slumber.  The driver’s side door opened next, sliding up and out of the way as she seamlessly slipped into the seat.  The steering column telescoped towards her as the seat moved forward and pedals lowered.  The instrument panel illuminated.  The heads-up display calculated the outside temperature, humidity, and wind speed while simultaneously highlighting every speck of movement up above.  The engine roared to life at the push of a button, and another button sent the platform rising towards the ceiling, where metal panels slid apart to let the vehicle through.

The platform had hardly locked in place before Weiss stepped on the accelerator and sent the car shooting through a dimly lit tunnel leading away from the mansion.  Over a minute passed before the road sloped upward, leading towards a thick metal blast door that rolled open in advance.  Seconds later, the car emerged into the night, flew down a well-concealed dirt path, and swerved onto the road leading back to the city.

There was very little traffic to contend with at this hour, but she gripped the steering wheel and paid close attention to every object illuminated on the windshield - vehicles of all shapes and sizes, sporadic people, several stray dogs rummaging through garbage, and stray cats tightrope-walking along brick walls.  A police scanner played in the background, offering constant chatter reflecting the pulse of the city.  From the relatively subdued voices, the night was quiet so far - Weiss just hoped it stayed that way as she barreled towards downtown.

When her destination - a towering sandstone building lit by dozens of spotlights - loomed into view, she turned off of the main street and navigated through a maze of smaller and smaller roads.  Eventually, she pulled into an abandoned alleyway that had seen far better days.

Fire escapes bolted to the neighboring apartment buildings still hung on despite years of rust buildup.  Air conditioner units stuck out of nearly every window, some spewing condensation into the air while rattling in their frames.  Overflowing dumpsters dotted the walls, leaving barely enough room for the car to squeeze through.  Deep potholes filled with runoff added more obstacles, but she only drove partway into the claustrophobic space before putting the vehicle in park and getting out.

The stench of rotting garbage hit her first, followed closely by the chilly, uncomfortably humid air and incessant rattles from the air conditioners above.  As the car idled beside her - the low, smooth purr of the engine sounding distinctly out of place - she lifted her hand and tapped through the red-and-blue buttons illuminated on a compact screen built into her bracers.  After directing the vehicle to return to a safer place outside of the city, and watching it obediently back out onto the street and pull away, she looked up and charted a path to the top of one of the apartment buildings.

After a quick sprint, she planted a foot against the brick wall and propelled herself up to the fire escape.  She grabbed the railing and smoothly pulled herself over it, landing softly on the balls of her feet before crouching down.  The rusted metal creaked and swayed under her weight but otherwise served its purpose - a small blessing as she silently raced up several flights of rusted steps.  Those steps abruptly ended six stories up, but she seamlessly jumped from the fire escape to a thin window ledge, balanced on her tiptoes while skirting across it, and leaped towards the corner of the building.

Gravity hardly took hold before she grabbed onto a small piece of metal jutting out of the brick - remnants of a flagpole that no longer held a flag - swung herself around the corner, and kicked against the wall as she let go.  Her momentum sent her soaring over the street, where an oblivious car drove underneath, before falling like a shadow on the other side of a tall, barbed-wire topped fence.

With the hard part out of the way, she crept through the darkness towards the grandly illuminated building in front of her.  The Atlas police department shone like a beacon to its rundown, neglected surroundings and offered a veneer of safety amongst so much danger.  The sturdy, thick stone walls appeared impenetrable.  Heavy iron bars secured the windows.  Security cameras stared unblinkingly at every conceivable entrance.

Unfortunately, the once-formidable police force had become a shell of itself, battered and bruised from years of dealing with one threat after another.  The cameras offered too many blindspots, which Weiss exploited as she slipped closer to the building.  The iron bars had rusted so badly over the years that they were now more decorational than legitimate deterrent.  Only the stone blocks had withstood the test of time, though even they had been worn smooth from decades of suffering through Atlas’ harsh weather.

Worst of all, many of the officers had left - either the force or the city altogether.  Those who remained were either part of the problem or desperately trying to be the solution, with very few landing in between.  Distinguishing between the two groups was almost depressingly easy, as Weiss watched a pair of officers exchange jokes and laughter while strolling through the parking lot filled with patrol cars.

Once they passed, she made her way to her favorite spot - a small alcove on top of an unused parking attendant booth that the light never reached and the cameras never bothered looking at.  From there, she could watch the comings and goings without being subject to observation herself.  She also had a clear view into the lower level of the building, where a large, open room served as prisoner intake, civilian reporting, recordkeeping, and office space for the overworked detectives.  It was there, in that cramped, cluttered area, that she found who she was searching for.

With long, golden hair as vibrant as the sun, the young woman looked out of place in such drab surroundings.  The weapon holstered at her side lent an air of belonging; so did her frown as she pored over the stack of reports in front of her.  The paper coffee cups scattered across the desk suggested she should have gone home hours ago, but something compelled her to stay long into the night.

There was a thin line between dedication and obsession, but Weiss hadn’t yet determined which side Detective Yang Xiao Long fell on - all she knew was that the recently promoted officer’s heart was too big for the role she served.  If duty drove Weiss, compassion fueled Yang’s actions.  For that reason they would never fully understand each other, but such all-encompassing kindness led to questionable choices - such as entertaining outside help that the rest of the department would staunchly refuse.

Their shared vision of a better, safer Atlas led Weiss here once again, hoping that her best source had undisclosed knowledge of Atlas’ latest threat.

Getting Yang’s attention was concerningly easy - Weiss simply sent an encrypted message reading, ‘Meet me outside.’  She watched the message arrive on Yang’s phone - the device lighting up on the desk beside her - and watched her frown as she read it.  She looked out the window, searching for something remiss while considering her options.  Then, regardless of how many criminals might want her dead - for she had already crossed paths with too many to count - she stood and made her way to the side exit.  For all she knew, a bullet waited for her as soon as she opened the door, yet curiosity and a need to know led her outside.

Her hand lingered on the door before letting it shut behind her - a small sign of caution that Weiss noted while watching the detective stray further from safety.  Weiss remained still as a statue while lavender eyes flitted to every shadow, at one point sliding right across her hiding place.  She waited patiently for Yang to leave the light, then finally move into one of the camera’s blindspots.

“Detective.”

As if in slow motion, Weiss watched Yang respond to the perceived threat.  In one fluid motion, her hand dropped to her side, her ring finger flipped open the holster while her others wrapped around the hard metal grip of her weapon and pulled it free.  In no time, the weapon was in her hand, aiming for the heart as she spun around.

But, as usual, with little concern for her own safety or wellbeing, her trigger finger remained stubbornly on the side of the weapon.  In a life or death situation, that admirable display of self-restraint could save someone’s life or cost her hers.  In this situation, Weiss didn’t even flinch as the barrel sought her out of the shadows.

As soon as Yang recognized who had spoken, she sighed.

“Shit.  You trying to get shot?” she asked while holstering her weapon.  “What’re you doing here?”

“What do you know about The Scarecrow?”

“Straight to business, aren’t you?”  When Weiss didn’t respond, Yang shook her head.  “I don’t know, not much?  New guy, popped up a few weeks ago.  No clue who he is or what he’s up to, but I overheard some bangers saying he’s scary.  Like, real scary.  That’s all I’ve got though.”

“Where is he?” Weiss pressed, unswayed by the lack of details.

“Your guess is as good as mine.  The Graveyard, probably.  That’s where all these psychos start out.”

“No one’s looking for him?”

“Kind of have our hands full,” Yang replied, threading her fingers together and shrugging.  “The election’s chaos, the prison’s about to go nuclear, we keep finding playing cards on dead bodies, and some chick with a whip has been stealing diamonds left and right.  Until this ‘Scarecrow’ guy does something serious, he’s hardly on our radar.”

Painfully aware of the police department’s lack of manpower, Weiss understood that Yang’s hands were just as tied as her posture implied.  None of the officers or detectives could afford to waste time on a wild goose chase with no evidence of wrongdoing or even a full story about what was going on.  That was where Weiss came in.

Glancing over her shoulder as a monorail raced past - forewarned by the jarringly loud screeching of metal on metal - she formulated a new plan.

“Then I’ll find him and put him on your radar,” she told Yang and, before Yang accepted or rejected the offer, fired a grappling hook at the back of the retreating train.  She clenched her fist as the hook attached to thin metal and the line in her hand grew taunt.  Her feet left the ground moments later, and she was suddenly flying through the air.  Her gauntlets reeled in the line until she reached the moving train and pulled herself up on top.  Once there, she turned around and watched the police station and Detective Xiao Long swiftly disappear from view.

Cold air whipped past, fluttering through her hair and making her cape crack behind her as the train bounced along the track.  The entire car tilted to the side when it raced through another bend without reducing speed, the gears screaming at the effort of holding everything in place.  Once the train came out of the turn, The Graveyard loomed in front of her like a dark blight in what should be a sparkling Atlas.

Smokestacks rose like tombstones out of the blackness, spewing clouds of dark gray pollution into the night sky.  Once-proud buildings stood like discarded statues, their windows dark or covered by wooden boards, their signs nothing more than skeletons of the past.

With every block the train rattled through, the world beneath the tracks took on a more sinister hue.  The pockets of light - of safety - became fewer and further in between.  There were no beacons of hope here.  No matter how many blocks Schnee Industries bought, no matter how many buildings were cordoned off or rehabilitated, the disease spread.

The cancers had to be found and cut out - that was the only way The Graveyard could become a safe, peaceful place for its residents and eschew its status as the breeding ground for Atlas’ most notorious criminals.  That was Weiss’ goal.  That was why she let the train ferry her into the festering, hopeless darkness before leaping from the top of the hurtling vehicle and landing on the street in a crouch.  Two passersby jolted at her sudden appearance, but they didn’t say a word as she stood and looked around.

If the rest of Atlas was in rough shape, The Graveyard had been written off and left for dead years ago.  Its former moniker wasn’t even worth mentioning anymore, surely living on as nothing more than a faded, buried memory in the collective minds of everyone still here - and the only people still here were the ones with nowhere else to go, or the ones preying on the reputation of lawlessness.

That lawlessness was on full display as Weiss slunk along dark streets, keeping her eyes and ears alert for danger while observing the changes.  Wrought-iron street lights served as remnants of better times, but the bulbs had long since died or, in some cases, been broken and left as shards of glass.  What few people there were to be found loitered in the readily available shadows, talking softly among themselves while openly brandishing weapons, bottles of alcohol, or drug paraphernalia.

“You lost?” an older gentleman wearing a ragged, oversized brown coat hissed towards her, a cigarette stub hanging from his lips.

“Pretty thing like you must be lost,” his friend added, both of them leering at her as she walked past without a glance or word.

Laughter and popping sounds drew her around the next street corner, where she found a group of teenagers throwing fireworks into a fire blazing in a garbage bin.  Each loud crack sent a shudder through the strained atmosphere, but the boys’ laughter abruptly stopped when a far louder, more deadly poppoppop erupted nearby.  Tires squealed against pavement, and the boys, suddenly losing interest in their late-night endeavor, disbanded with hardly a goodbye.

Sirens usually followed gunfire, but in The Graveyards there was only silence.  Silence, crackling flames, and hushed conversations wondering who it might have been this time.  The police had lost so much ground here that they’d resorted to only coming when called, worried for their lives whenever they crossed into this realm.  The people living here - resentful of the suspicion and brutality so often pervading those lacking bravery, and fearful of reprisals as soon as the flashing lights faded away - resorted to not calling at all, save for the most desperate situations.

‘Desperate’ meant something different here, and the fear of such hopelessness spreading to the rest of Atlas kept Weiss moving forward.  Having no idea who or what she was searching for, she made no effort to conceal herself.  With any luck, trouble would find her.

Whispers and glances assured her that The Graveyard had noticed her presence.  Word should spread quickly.  Some would hide, as she watched two young men smoking cigarettes calmly stamp them out and shuffle inside.  Others would see an opportunity - a challenge - that they simply couldn't resist.

A shattering window suddenly broke the unease, and raised voices spilled from one of the apartment buildings as shards of glass rained down on the street below.  The words were indistinguishable, but the emotions behind them were recognizable to all: anger, fear, overwhelming frustration at circumstances that never changed.

As the argument approached a crescendo - a bitter combination of indiscriminate shouting, broken objects, and loud thuds hitting the walls - Weiss looked up and zeroed in on where it came from: three floors above her, easily accessible if she used the window ledges.  Before she moved to intervene, however, a door slammed hard enough that it seemed to shake the entire building.  The neighborhood seemed to hold its breath in the moment that followed before sighing as the shouting disintegrated into frustrated mumbles, a few angry last words, and anguished sobs.

With the relative calm unlikely to last, Weiss ducked around the next corner and continued her search.  The blue-and-silver Schnee Industries logo caught her attention before long, proudly depicted on large banners posted along a tall chain link fence.

Beyond that fence, scaffolding and piles of construction equipment surrounded an old church that had fallen on hard times.  Graffiti-covered boards had replaced stained-glass windows.  Elegant stone statues had been vandalized or destroyed.  Every inch of exposed wood, from the doorframes to the eaves and awnings, had rotted beyond repair.

Cheerful signs announced that construction would be complete in just under a year, at which point the new community center would be open to all.  The colorful collection of swear words scrawled over the announcements made it clear how some members of the community felt about Schnee Industries’ intrusion into this part of town and reminded Weiss that money alone wouldn't help.  If it were that simple, she would have written the check years ago and wouldn't be walking through dark, dangerous streets on her own.

Small, ramshackle houses surrounded the church, each subsequent one somehow in a worse condition than the last.  Some stood behind the decaying remnants of picket fences, but stone walls or chain link fences had become the norm.  From the exteriors she could see, it was impossible to tell if anyone even lived in them anymore.  Broken blinds or dirty curtains covered every window, and no light was visible from within.  The porches had warped and peeled with age, and nails stuck out of the wooden boards in many places.  Tall weeds had overrun the front yards; in many cases, looking ready to consume the house itself.

Motion caught her attention as she passed one of the homes, and she stepped back as a large dog slammed into the fence beside her.  The thin metal bowed outward under the creature’s weight, but it snapped back into place when the dog dropped to the ground and started barking incessantly.  Its stiff, hostile posture and powerful barks warned her away from the yard it had been tasked with protecting, so she calmly moved away to avoid upsetting it further.

The dog kept barking until she reached the far end of the street, where she turned left so it couldn't see her anymore.  This street led her towards some small apartment buildings, each only a few stories tall and hardly more than two or three units wide.  A sense of life accompanied the increased density, though not in a good way.

Tires squealed nearby, followed by rapidly approaching engines.  Instinctively, Weiss ducked into the shadows cast by one of the building’s alcoves.  Two black muscle cars painted with gang symbols tore down the street a second later, then flew around the next corner.  Before she decided whether or not to follow, sounds of a scuffle reached her ears.

“Get off me!” someone shouted, and she instantly broke into a sprint towards the source.

The sounds led her to the next street, where a struggle was underway in a small alley meant to house several dumpsters and not much else.  There, two men wrestled each other on the loose gravel ground.  One of them - wearing a black mask over his face and holding a clear size advantage - had planted his knees on the other’s chest, pinning him down and swatting away any attempts to escape.

Growing frustrated with the resistance, the perpetrator reached behind him and pulled out the knife that had been sheathed under his jacket.  As soon as Weiss saw the blade glinting in the thin light, she grabbed one of the sharp, bat-shaped pieces of metal from her belt and flung it toward the man.  It hit the knife cleanly, bounced off with a dull clink, and nicked the would-be thief’s hand.

He yelped and dropped the knife, giving her enough time to reach him, grab him by the collar, and throw him off of his intended victim.  His back slammed into one of the metal dumpsters before he fell flat to the ground, and Weiss kicked away the knife before approaching him.  He groaned and shook his head while pushing himself up, but his eyes widened as soon as he got a good look at her.

“Wait!” he said, raising both hands over his head as if expecting the end to arrive at any second.  “I won’t do it again, I swear, just please don’t hurt me!”

While he cowered, Weiss looked at the gravel marks covering his palms and the thin trail of blood trickling from the cut on his thumb before noting the rest of his appearance - an old, brown jacket missing a pocket, black pants that had been patched in several places, and boots with holes nearly worn into the toes.

“Get out of here.”

When he looked up, she jerked her head to the left and stepped away.  Disbelief filled his cloudy gray eyes, but he scrambled to his feet and took off, glancing over his shoulder once before disappearing around the corner.  As his footsteps faded into the night, she sighed and returned to his near-victim.

“Are you alright?” she asked, looping an arm through his and helping him to his feet.  Once standing, he brushed gravel off of his clothes and inspected the red marks on his arms and wrists.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he concluded before flashing a small smile.  “Thanks.”

“Do you need help getting home?” she offered, but he quickly shook his head.

“I live close; don’t sweat it.”

Weiss nodded but, before he left, raised a hand to stop him.

“Have you heard of someone called The Scarecrow?”

As it turned out, he didn’t need to answer; the sudden fear in his eyes said it all.

“Do you know where I can find him?” she pressed, but he backed away from her now, slowly shaking his head while nervously glancing from side to side.

“You should probably get out of here…”

“I will once I’ve had a chat with him.”

Sensing her resolve, or unwilling to repay kindness with silence, he ducked his head and mumbled, “Check by the water,” before scurrying away.  Weiss watched him go, concerned by his reaction but pleased to finally have a destination.

She took the knife with her to the man-made reservoir lying at the far reaches of The Graveyard.  What little light the moon offered glittered across the black surface, offering a falsely idyllic setting that transformed under daylight’s harsh honesty.

A cracked walkway led to a wide pedestrian path encircling the reservoir, which Weiss doubted many people used anymore.  The stench of sewage hung in the air and only worsened when a cold breeze blew across the water.  None of the trail lights worked save for one or two that flickered at the end of their lives.  The ‘scenic’ shrubs had been left to grow unchecked, providing hiding places perfect enough to earn her wary gaze every time the leaves rustled or branches creaked against each other.

Fortunately, she seemed to be the only one around, and that remained the case as she made it to the railing separating the sidewalk from the steep drop into the reservoir.  She thought nothing of tossing the knife into the water, watching it disappear with a soft plop before sinking to the bottom.  If the police ever dredged the reservoir, she could only imagine what they would find.  Enough garbage to start a new landfill.  Weapons to arm a full unit of officers.  Bodies of people who’d never even been reported missing.

Of course, the water was probably so toxic that full sanitary suits would be required for such an endeavor.  While the gangs used the reservoir as a disposal site for their crimes, the nearby manufacturers used it as a personal dumping ground for hazardous waste.  They made no attempt to hide the treacherous practices either, as Weiss watched thick black liquid drip into the water from a pipe leading directly out of a smoke-spewing industrial plant perched in the distance.

Besides the factories spread out around the water, greedily claiming it for themselves, ‘luxury’ apartment buildings stood half-finished or mostly empty - yet more examples of failed attempts to revitalize the area - and warehouses dotted the spaces in between.  Some of those tall, remarkably plain buildings were very clearly in use by their corporate overseers, as bright lights pointed at every entrance and security guards patrolled the fenced-off grounds.  More than a few looked abandoned though, and those were the ones that drew her closer.

This was the perfect area to organize out of sight.  Not only were the buildings large enough to store more weapons or ammunition than any gang should ever possess, but no one would notice - or dare to intrude - if dozens or even hundreds of people congregated inside.

Ducking into the same shrubbery that had concerned her moments earlier, she used the darkness as a shield while carefully approaching the first such warehouse.  From outward appearances, it was empty.  A peek through the dirty windows confirmed that to be true, and she didn’t have to wonder why - an unsettling groaning noise suggested the entire building might collapse at any moment.

Undeterred, she snuck towards the next building on her path.  This one appeared in better shape than the first, and the rustling sounds coming from inside suggested she wasn’t the only one who thought so.  Her footsteps landed silently as she crept to a lower-level window shrouded in darkness, but a quick look inside revealed that the building had been taken over by squatters.

Cardboard and spare wood formed small shanties in corners of the large, open space, but some people slept with nothing more than sleeping bags or a pile of blankets on the cold, concrete floor.  An older man - his oversized clothing in near tatters - shuffled across the room.  His feet never left the ground as he walked, and his hunched posture suggested years of crouching or leaning over had taken its toll.

Nothing about these people implied anything other than misfortune suffered at the hands of those more powerful, so Weiss backed away from the window and carried on.  She would search every building surrounding the reservoir if she had to, even if that meant she saw the sun rise.

As the night progressed, that future seemed more and more likely.  She found more squatters, a den of addicts, abandoned machinery that had been picked clean of valuable parts, and enough discarded wooden pallets to build a city of her own.

Just when she considered that she might have to come back on another night, however, something out of the ordinary caught her eye.  It was nothing more than a miniscule speck of light that burned bright orange before dulling to a deep red, but her gaze spotted the nearly invisible silhouette lurking behind it.

The sentry took another draw from his cigarette - the end again lighting up - and Weiss quickly slipped further into the shadows.  Unlike the other warehouses in use by the few remaining businesses, this one wasn’t brightly illuminated as a deterrent.  No fencing separated it from the streets or pedestrian paths.  No lights were visible inside either, though she figured out why when she looked up.  The roof might’ve once held large glass skylights but was now open to the elements.  What moonlight there was easily fell inside, erasing the need for bright lights to operate by.

Something was going on here - a suspicion that grew into a certainty when she picked out more guards stationed at the side entrances.  Fortunately, their ability to operate in darkness also provided her an easy entrance unmanned and unwatched by the men outside.  Weiss doubted her ability to climb the metal ladders fast enough to reach the roof without being spotted, but she had a faster, easier route.

First, she found a spot furthest from the nearest guard and waited for him to become distracted.  As soon as he shuffled his feet and glanced to the side, she fired a grappling hook at the top of the building and held on as she flew from the cover of the trees up to the roof.

Her boots hit the roof with a soft clang that sounded too loud to her ears but, after crouching down and holding her breath, heard no shouts of alarm.  Relaxing slightly, she crept towards the open roof in front of her.  Laying down on her stomach in hopes that no one from the ground spotted her, she peeked only her head over the ledge so she could see into the heart of the building.

Steel beams and pillars supported the warehouse, which was almost entirely empty outside of a large truck parked at one of the delivery bays.  A large group of men crowded near the vehicle - some standing guard while others loaded wooden crates into the back.

One man stood out amongst the crowd, and not solely because he wore what appeared to be a burlap mask over his head.  The way he issued orders to the others - gesturing at the crates several times - and the way they quickly did his bidding filled her with the haunting suspicion that she’d found the person she was searching for.

Ruby’s source was right.  The Scarecrow existed and, if the wooden crates were any indication, he was up to something.

Unfortunately, Weiss couldn't tell what it was from her current position.  The crates were generic and lacked any identifying information.  One of them had yet to be nailed shut, but she didn’t have an angle to see what was inside.  She also, despite straining her ears, couldn't make out anything that was being said; the words were muffled and faint by the time they reached her.

Determined to uncover at least one of those answers, she pulled herself into a crouch so that she could sneak closer.  It was at that exact moment that she heard a heavy foot set down on the thin metal roof, followed by the unmistakable sound of a gun hammer cocking back.  Her muscles tensed, recognizing the immediate danger, and she slowly stood up before even more slowly turning around.

The guard who’d snuck up behind her aimed at her chest, gun in both hands and finger on the trigger.

He stood too close though - his first mistake, as the instant he opened his mouth she grabbed him by the wrist and twisted hard enough to make him cry out and drop the gun through the rooftop.  It hit one of the steel beams on the way down, clanging loudly and drawing everyone’s gazes upward.

Shouts and commotion rose from below while Weiss twisted the man’s arm further behind his back, forcing him to his knees.  He yelped in pain as an engine roared to life, and she made the mistake of looking over the edge to find the truck’s red brake lights illuminating the space.  The guard sensed the brief moment of distraction and kicked his head back, knocking her just enough off balance to pull his arm free, leap to his feet, and take a wild swing at her.

His second mistake was failing to plan for what happened if the blow didn’t connect.  As soon as she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding a fist to the jaw, his momentum carried right over the ledge.

He shouted out as she dove after him, grabbed the front of his jacket, and shot her grappling hook into one of the metal beams.  Her right arm strained holding his weight as they dropped through the warehouse, but the line slowed their descent enough that she landed safely on her feet while sending him sliding on his back across the floor.

A door slammed and tires squealed as the truck tore out of the warehouse, but its hasty exit was the least of her concerns at the moment.  Having the entire building’s attention now, she silently counted the men as they fanned out around her.  Twenty-three in all, including the rooftop guard slowly regaining his feet.  Many carried bats or knives or other makeshift weapons, except the one in the middle - the person she’d come here to find.

Up close, his mask projected a terrifying aura meant to draw on fear.  The coarse fabric had been crudely stitched in many places - across the scalp and cheeks but most noticeably with the sewn-closed mouth.  Blue eyes peered through the small holes left for vision, but the rest of the mask offered no hint as to the wearer’s identity.  It also obscured his expressions, making it impossible for Weiss to judge his reaction to her sudden presence.

The way he clasped his hands together offered some clue.  As did the way he stood slightly behind the two armed men separating him from her.

“Well,” he eventually said, his voice calm but unrecognizable.  “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Just passing through,” Weiss replied, holding her ground and making sure his men did the same.  They had her surrounded now but were clearly waiting for a signal to attack.  “Maybe you can help me,” she added, forcing her gaze back to cold blue eyes.  “I’m looking for The Scarecrow.”

Her use of his moniker tickled him, as he unclasped his hands and stood taller.

“So you’ve heard of me.  I guess it’s true what they say - fear is…infectious.”

While he lightly chuckled to himself, Weiss glanced around the circle of guards before carefully choosing her next words.

“I don’t know what your plans are, but I have an offer for you - surrender now, and no one gets hurt.”

Considering her current situation, the proposal must have sounded ridiculous.  That explained why The Scarecrow laughed, and his men quickly joined in.  Having expected the response, Weiss calmly waited for their amusement to abate.

“Surrender?” The Scarecrow asked while covertly positioning himself behind one of the guards, dragging her gaze with him.  “It doesn’t look like you’re in any position to be making demands, Batwoman.”

The tension in the air snapped at that subtle cue, and her adrenaline flared as the men suddenly charged forward.  But the first one to reach her wasn’t the short, burly man in front of her, nor the muscular bat-wielder beside him.  The ones behind her had gotten a head start, which she learned when a cord wrapped around her neck and yanked her backward.

The cable cut into the thin fabric protecting her neck, restricting her breathing enough to send a tendril of alarm through her veins.  But that dose of reality woke her body up, and her instincts swiftly took over.

Grabbing the large, calloused hands holding each end of the cord, she lifted her feet off the ground and kicked off of the short, burly man's chest.  As he stumbled backward, she used the momentum to swing over the grappler’s back and break his hold.  Her feet hardly touched the ground before she planted her heel in his back, knocking him into one of the other attackers and sending them both sprawling to the floor.

While they untangled themselves, she ducked back as a knife sliced so close to her ear that she felt the wind from it.  The wielder followed up with several quick slashes, displaying commendable skill and forcing her to dodge quickly or deflect with her hardened gauntlets.  Then he broadcast a long jab towards her stomach, and his overextended arm was an easy target for her to grab in both hands and slam down into her knee.  He howled and dropped the blade when his arm cracked, and Weiss shoved him into some of the other guards to slow them down.

She kicked the knife towards the edge of the room while spinning away from a crowbar and plank of wood.  Sensing rising danger, she sought out the gun that had been dropped earlier - it demanded her full attention when she saw one of the men making a dash for it.  After knocking aside a wayward punch and dropping the thrower with a forceful knee between the legs, she chased down the would-be shooter.

While he stooped down to scoop up the weapon, she pulled a set of handcuffs from her belt, slapped them around his wrists, and shoved him face first into the nearby steel beam.  A loud crack preceded him collapsing to the concrete, covering his broken nose as blood ran over his hands.

More attacks fell upon her before she had time to dismantle the gun, but she managed to kick it backward with one heel while raising an arm to block another attempted blow to the head.  Her other arm shot forward, planting the hardened knuckles of her gloves into the soft skin of his temple.  The force of the punch knocked the goon aside, temporarily dazed, while another one took his place.

She stomped on someone’s foot and slammed her fist back into their nose while another man barreled towards her holding another knife.  The blade was longer, but he swung too widely, providing an easy opening for her to grab his shoulder, yank him forward, and wrap her cloak around his head.  While he struggled to free himself, she slammed her elbow into the back of his neck.  His body went limp as he collapsed unconscious to the ground, and her cape unfurled behind her while she spun around and caught another fist in the palm of her hand.

After slamming the side of her hand into his larynx, sending him stumbling to the side struggling for breath, she felt the battle shift in her favor.  The barrage continued like a downpour, but she was no longer solely focused on dodging, blocking, and countering on instinct.  Her mind returned to her objective - The Scarecrow, who watched the fray from afar - and her attacks gained purpose.

She grabbed the nearest goon and brought her knee up into his face with a crunch that left him sprawled on the ground as she walked forward.  Another attacker launched himself at her, his speed and momentum adequate for a lesser-skilled opponent, but she easily sidestepped his fist, grabbed his elbow, and threw him to the floor.  Another obstacle cleared, another step forward.

Finally, The Scarecrow sensed the change.  His left foot slid back in response, then his right, then he turned around and ran.

He hardly made it five feet before Weiss whipped out a bolo and flung it towards him.  The heavy ends wrapped around his ankles, locking his legs together and sending him crashing to the ground, while she catapulted over his guards and sprinted over to him.  He quickly reached for the ties, but she was already on top of him, shoving his back to the concrete and grabbing at his mask.

She had a fistful of the coarse fabric in her hand when a strange cold mist puffed into her face.  Her lungs instantly caught on fire, burning through her chest as if driven by hurricane-force winds.  It felt like ashes and embers poured into her veins, consuming every shred of oxygen she possessed.  As she started coughing uncontrollably, her body trying in vain to clear her airways, he shoved her aside and scrambled to his feet.

“What’re you afraid of?” he jeered before kicking her hard in the stomach, knocking the last breath of air from her lungs.  “Teach her not to meddle,” she heard him instruct his men before quick footsteps hurried away.

She felt them encroaching but couldn't breathe let alone get up to defend herself.  Her heart raced beyond her control.  Fear gripped hard into her chest, strangling her lungs in its unyielding grasp.  That fear only grew when she heard leathery wings above her, the sound growing so loud that soon she heard nothing else.  As soon as she looked up and saw the swarm of black creatures rushing towards her, descending on her like a black cloud of death, she covered her head with her arms and squeezed her eyes shut.

They screeched and fluttered and screamed in her ears.  Their wings suffocated her further; their small, sharp claws scratched her face.  Something hit her hard in the ribs, making her double over while her mind briefly searched for an escape, but the thought disappeared when something metal cracked over her shoulder and pain shot through her arm like fireworks.

The blows rained down on her back, her arms, her ribs, her legs - no inch spared save for her head and neck, which she covered with both hands while curled into a ball on the cold concrete floor.  Each burst of pain sent a shock through her system as she hurtled towards a full-fledged panic attack.  She was helpless, powerless, and paralyzed by fear even though the bats weren’t real.  They couldn't be real.

But they felt real.  They sounded real.  Her thundering heart was real.  The sharp toes and heavy heels battering her body were real.

Then someone shouted, another person shouted, and the boots were gone.  Commotion surrounded her.  Someone tripped over her legs, and she opened her eyes only for her heart to surge to an even more painful speed.

The figures rushing around her were the stuff of nightmares.  Disfigured, misshapen, with large red eyes that glowed like fire, limbs that twisted in all the wrong ways.  The warehouse grew and shrank, distorting at unimaginable angles, morphing with no rhyme or reason.  Flashes of red and green flitted through the air, zipping from one terrifying figure to another while other sounds joined the fluttering of wings.  Fists against flesh.  Cries of pain.  Bodies hitting the ground.

Clenching her fists and closing her eyes, Weiss tried to calm her heart.  Tried to calm her mind.  As much as she wanted to cower and hide, she had to get up.  Had to find a way out of here.

As soon as the bats receded to a dull roar, she opened her eyes and tried to ignore the misshapen beasts.  The disfigured, bodiless men.

A red blur danced back and forth, feet hardly touching the ground while drawing all of the monsters their way.  A darker shape lurked behind, just out of the red blur’s view.  Weiss recalled the location slowly, like dragging an answer from a pit of quicksand.  Her mind told her to be afraid - she was afraid - and a flash of gunmetal gray reminded her why.

The gun.

The gun.  In the hands of a monster.  The red blur, unaware.  Weiss had no idea if the blur was friend or foe, but the gun.  She had to deal with the gun.  Even as the warehouse contorted, and her vision swam with it, she raised her arm, aimed as best she could, and fired.

Someone shouted as the grappling hook clanged off of something, though Weiss couldn't tell what it was.  The noise drew the red blur’s attention, and in a few quick movements the man joined a pile of bodies on the ground.

Suddenly, it grew quiet.  Quiet save for groans of pain, her pulse thudding in her ears, her rapid, shallow breathing, and the lingering threat of fluttering wings.

“Are you ok?”

The voice was unnatural.  Low and crooked.  The speaker’s face wasn’t a face at all - just blank skin where eyes, nose, and a mouth should be.  A bright green glove shot towards Weiss so fast that she shoved herself away, staring at their face and wondering where, where, where it went.

Fortunately, they didn’t pursue her.  They quickly stopped and held up those garish green hands.

“It’s ok.  I’m not going to hurt you.”

Even if Weiss wanted to believe it, her body wouldn't allow it.  Her heart continued racing; her eyes darted back and forth, finding new nightmares everywhere.  Her breathing was too fast yet not bringing enough air to her oxygen-deprived mind.

The faceless stranger left her in that miserable state.  They moved purposefully around the room, checking the monsters that looked more and more like men as time passed.  They were unconscious, or semi-conscious, and their eyes no longer glowed.  The warehouse stopped twisting and turning like a house of horrors.

After what felt like an eternity, Weiss’ heart finally began to slow.  Her breathing followed - the hyperventilating gasps becoming deeper, steadier breaths.  She regained control of her mind moments later, but she blinked several times before accepting that reality had been restored.

It was just a warehouse.  There were no bats.  There were only The Scarecrow’s goons and her unexpected savior.

As soon as she recognized the short brown hair, dark green mask covering only their eyes, and almost comically bright red and green suit, she frowned.  Sculpted arms and muscular legs betrayed a vigorous training regimen, but the childlike costume and energy didn’t belong in a place like this.

“You -”

Silver eyes snapped Weiss’ way as she struggled to push herself to her feet.  Every inch of her body ached, her skin burned as blood rushed to new bruises, and she stumbled to the side once standing.  She would have fallen, but the girl quickly reached out and steadied her.

“Easy there.  You just took a wicked beating.”

“What’s your name,” Weiss said, brushing off the support while searching her foggy mind for the answer.  “Robin,” she said once she found it.  “What’re you doing here?”

“It looked like you needed help.”

“I didn’t.”

A bolder lie had never been told, but Robin’s responding frown lasted only a moment before disappearing.

“Oh, I get it.  That was part of the plan, right?  Let them kick the crap outta you, then get the drop on ‘em?”

Weiss ignored the sarcasm and tentatively looked around, moving slowly because her limbs wouldn't agree otherwise.  Everything felt hazy, especially her memories of the last few minutes, but she frowned when she noticed something laying on the floor where she’d tried to unmask The Scarecrow.  After walking over to it, resisting the urge to limp on an extra tender ankle, she crouched down and immediately wished that she hadn’t when her ribs screamed at the thoughtless motion.  Gingerly picking up the small plastic cartridge, she blew a breath through tightly clenched teeth to keep from swearing as she stood up.

“What’s that?”

Robin leaned closer to see, and Weiss turned the small plastic container over several times before closing her fingers around it.  “That’s what I’m going to find out,” she said while storing it in her belt.

“I can help.”

“I told you - I work alone.”

“Except when I’m around!”

Robin planted both fists on her hips and puffed out her chest at the claim but deflated when Weiss scowled and said, “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I handled those goons pretty well, didn’t I?” Robin asked hopefully, but Weiss rolled her eyes.  She would have shaken her head too if that wouldn't have hurt more than it was worth.  “Besides,” Robin pressed on.  “Two heads are better than one.  If we figure out what that is, and where he’s getting it from, then we can find him and take him down.”

“I’ll figure out what this is, I’ll find his supplier, and I’ll take him down.”

“There’s no ‘I’ in team -”

“But there is in ‘alive,’” Weiss snapped.  “Now, for the last time, stay out of this.”

Weiss jabbed a finger into Robin’s chest with the order, hoping to impress that point, before walking away.  Robin rubbed the spot - a subtle gesture Weiss would have felt guilty for if this wasn’t a matter of life or death.

“Fine!” Robin eventually called after her.  “Guess you don’t wanna know what these are then.”

As soon as Weiss turned around and saw the assortment of playing cards in Robin’s hand, Detective Xiao Long’s words came back to her - dead bodies with playing cards left behind.  That was the first time she’d heard of such things happening, and now a second such instance in a matter of hours.  Murders following a pattern, especially one as blatant as this, suggested a serial killer was on the loose.  And if they were somehow linked to The Scarecrow, who’d just proven himself to be a legitimate threat, she had to know.

“They look kinda important,” Robin mused, thoughtfully sorting through the cards now that she had Weiss’ full attention.  “And half of these guys had ‘em.  Makes you wonder what they’re for, right?”

“Give those to me.”

“Nope!”  When Weiss reached for the cards, Robin stepped back and pulled her hand away.  “I’ll let you see them if we work together.”

While Robin grinned, looking far too pleased with herself for what was essentially a bribe, Weiss ground her jaw back and forth.  The last thing she wanted was someone tagging along - that was one more person to worry about - but she was loath to let a potentially helpful piece of evidence slip through her grasp.  For a split second, she considered taking it by force but, somehow sensing the desire, Robin closed her fist around the cards and took another step back.

“Fine,” Weiss agreed, regretting it the moment Robin pumped a fist in victory.  “Meet me at the old filtration plant tomorrow night at ten,” she added regardless.  “Don’t be late.”

Having gotten what she wanted, Robin pocketed the cards and beamed.  When she didn’t make any other motion to speak or be helpful, however, Weiss scowled and pointedly nodded towards the wide-open warehouse exit.

“Now leave,” she concluded and, thankfully, the girl finally took a hint.

“See you tomorrow!” she said before giving Weiss a playful salute and running off.  Weiss had no idea where she was headed, or how she went anywhere unnoticed in an outfit like that, but babysitting wasn’t in the plans tonight.

Instead, Weiss walked over to the pile of goons tied to the pillars with long lengths of wire.  Many of them looked how she currently felt - broken, bruised, and in dire need of some ice.  Some eyes were almost swollen shut, the skin around them already angry red as it raced towards purple.  Noses bled freely, leaving dark red stains as blood dripped from chins onto shirts and jackets.  Some of the men were slowly regaining consciousness, but others were still out like lights - eyes closed, mouths ajar, heads lolling to the side in whatever position they’d found themselves in.

After patting several pockets, Weiss found one of their phones, pulled it out, and dialed the police department.  Before the call connected, she dropped the device onto the unconscious man’s chest and walked over to the wooden crate that hadn’t made it into the truck.  Inside, an empty bed of straw offered no clues as to its former contents besides a large, cylindrical indentation.  She took a picture regardless, using the camera built into her bracers to capture the size and shape before finally leaving the warehouse behind.

She thought she could hear sirens in the distance - faint yet growing louder - but didn’t stick around to find out if the police decided to show up.  Instead, she hobbled away from the reservoir and, as soon as she heard the tell-tale sign of metal screeching against metal, pinpointed her ride out of here.

The monorail careened around the corner moments later, tilting so far to one side that it looked certain to fall off the track.  Once it inevitably leveled out, Weiss waited for it to be close enough before firing her grappling hook one last time.  The hook lodged into the far back corner of the last train car, and a soft yelp slipped through her lips when the line took hold and her shoulder screamed from hanging on.

Unable to control her approach as she normally could, she slammed her shins into the edge of the train before hauling herself on top and flopping onto her back.  As her adrenaline disintegrated, every bruise littering her body announced its presence.  Her armor had done its best, but she must have several severely bruised ribs, a swollen shoulder that protested any movement, and large contusions on her arms and legs.  The cold, metal roof provided a minor salve to her aching back, but every bump and lurch of the tracks made her grimace.  Her psyche, however, had taken the largest and most brutal beating.

While the cold Atlas air whipped over top of her, she clenched a hand over her chest and dove back into the long, torturous moments when fear controlled her.  She’d sworn to herself that she would never feel that helpless again, yet The Scarecrow tore that promise away with nothing more than whatever that small plastic cartridge held.

She had to figure out what it was, where he got it, and what he planned to do with it.  She had to figure out how his men were linked to the playing cards and murders the police department had yet to solve.  But first, she laid on top of the train, staring up at the night sky, ignoring the pain that encapsulated her as fully as the suit she wore.

The stars didn’t shine as brightly as they once did.  Instead, they were distant and dim, as if they were fading.

She remembered the days when she would camp in the backyard with her parents, picking out constellations as easily as daisies.  But that was before.  Before pollution, corruption, and evil had dulled the sky, strangled the city, and poisoned everything within.

One day, she would see that Atlas again.  Or she would die trying to bring it back.