One of the things I always found interesting about Blüdhaven was how blurred the lines between cop and criminal really are. Far more than even in Gotham. Even as far as where they chose to drink after a hard day's work. Most cops would frequent Hogan's Alley once they finished a shift. I know, because I've been on both sides of that bar—both serving and, since I joined the police force, being served. As far as criminals, they chose to drink at the Back Room which was only a block away from Hogan's.

The Back Room was run by Kelly Corle. He was a career criminal until he hit his mid fifties. After that, he chose to go straight and opened a "legitimate" business. Never mind the fact that he knew more about what was going on in Blüdhaven than most, or that there was definitely some unethical activities happening in the back room (no pun intended). It was mostly a hangout for lowlifes. The big guys in the underworld could afford far better establishments. But the 'haven's less illustrious crowd found nothing wrong with a back-alley place like this.

It's why I chose to come here. In hopes of getting some information about Barrera. Plus, I felt like letting off some steam.

Kurt Meas was the first one to try and be a hero. He slammed his beer bottle on the counter and charged at me with the sharp remains. He brought the bottle down in a stabbing motion and I blocked it with my arm. My free hand held an escrima stick, which I used to strike him in his ribcage. The hand I used to block his attack grabbed his forearm and I used it as leverage to twist his arm around his back. I threw him against the bar and his head struck the counter.

"I'm looking for Guiermo Barrera and I have a sneaking suspicion that at least one of you bastards knows where I can find him," I said. "So either someone in here cooperates, or I start breaking things. Choice is yours, boys."

"C'mon man, give me a break—you 'ave any idea how much money it costs to fix this place up?" asked Kelly.

"Shut up, Corle." Through the lenses in my domino mask, my eyes scanned the gathered patrons. I could tell many of them were reaching into jackets for weapons. Most of them were packing firearms, others had knives or chains. Clay Towry moved first, standing from his table and knocking it over. He had a Desert Eagle in his hand that he opened fire with. I backflipped and landed on the bar, before bouncing off. A nightarang left my fingertips, striking the gun from his hand.

My feet touched the ground again, and that's when the other patrons started to try their luck. The ones who had guns opened fire and I was bounding across the bar, avoiding the bullets as nimbly as I could. I had my escrima sticks ready, and had to use them to deflect a bullet or two. One or two criminals were struck by the crossfire, and I couldn't help but feel responsible for that. It was a feeling I hated.

I jumped to the side and my feet hit the wall, pushing me across the divide and I soared behind the bar, landing in a crouched position. Kelly was behind as well and once I landed by him, he looked at me in surprise and raised his hands in surrender. I ignored him and reached into one of the compartments on my glove, producing two small, reflective orbs. I hurled them over the bar and as soon as they struck the ground, they emitted a thick smoke.

I leapt back over the bar and immediately went to work. While the crooks fired blindly, I moved quickly, disabling the ones with handguns as fast as possible before the smoke cleared. As it started to dissipate, the lowlifes were able to spot me moving through the smoke. One of them charged at me, wielding a chain as if it were a whip. I lifted my arm to block and the chain wrapped around it. I gripped the chain and yanked hard on it. He went flying over my head and struck a criminal who was coming up behind me.

Another moved forward, brandishing a knife. My body armor blocked the blade and I struck him on the back of the head with an escrima stick. I leapt towards a table and used my escrima sticks to balance myself as my legs flailed around and kicked three of the patrons who tried to come at me. I flipped off the table and pulled my knees up to my chest, striking another as if I were a wrecking ball.

I landed on my feet and saw only a few more patrons still standing. Many of them were too afraid to try to take any more shots at me. I stood upright and stared them down. "I'm only going to say this one more time. Guiermo Barrera. Where do I find him?"

My peripheral vision caught one of the patrons trying to sneak out the back. I spun around and hurl a nightarang. It struck the door just as he was about to push it open. He yelped and looked at me, his body shaking. I calmly walked towards him, and he didn't even try to move. Just continued to quiver. I pressed an escrima stick against his throat, pinning him to the wall.

"You know something, don't you?"

"I-I-I-"

"And quit stuttering. I'm losing my patience."

"There's... there's this guy, I rented a place out for him..."

"What kind of place?"

"A ranch, on the outskirts of the city. Near the river."

"And his name's Barrera?" I asked.

"I don't know, never asked for his name," he said. "Paid me a lot of cash. But he was a spic, I know that mu—"

I pressed the escrima stick harder against his throat and he gagged.

"Watch your mouth," I said.

"O-okay, okay..." he gasped and I pulled the escrima stick away enough to let him speak properly. "He was from out of town. Needed a place to lay low, wanted somethin' with a basement."

I released him and pushed open the door, walking out the back door without giving another glance to anyone in the bar. I shot a jumpline to the top of a nearby tenement and pulled myself to the roof. Once I ran to the other end, I leapt and twisted in the air, flipping and bouncing off the buildings to slow my descent before I landed on the roof of a parked car. The driver side door opened and Redhorn stepped out, glaring at me.

"That's my fuckin' car you just dented."

"You can afford it," I said.

"You find anything?"

"Yeah, I know where Barrera is," I said. "There's a ranch near the river, on the outskirts of the city. One of the guys in the Back Room told me he rented it out to someone who he thinks is Barrera."

"He thinks?" asked Redhorn. "Not very solid."

"It's all we've got," I said.

"Then get in, I'll drive," he said.

	A Knight in Blüdhaven... "BRUTALITY"
Nightwing #9 - November, Year Four	by Dino Pollard

“First off, Mr. Desmond, let me just say how much I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me this evening.”

Roland Desmond settled back into the large chair, which sat before a roaring fireplace. In his hand was a glass filled with scotch over ice cubes. The letters ‘RD’ were stylishly printed on the side of the glass.

“Your offer intrigued me,” said Desmond. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thank you, I’m not much of a drinker,” he said. He sat in the chair beside Desmond, his short blond hair slicked back, and wearing a neatly pressed blue suit. “What I’m interested in offering you, Mr. Desmond, is a chance to increase your profit margins.”

“I’m listening,” said Desmond.

“Perhaps you’ve heard of the venom patches.”

“I have.”

“How would you like to get in on the action?”

Desmond paused and considered his guest’s words. “I take it you are the one responsible for bringing them into my city?”

“I am,” he said.

“Then, my friend, you’ve been a source of much trouble for me,” said Desmond. He set his drink down on the small table that separated the two men. “I’m not interested. And I will give you a piece of advice for your own sake—you shouldn’t be, either.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Drugs are one thing. Junkies are easy to control. Relatively weak, and they’ll do anything for a fix. But when you grant them superhuman strength, then you have problems on your hands. You have junkies who are more powerful than the distributors. I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Desmond. The money you can make—“

“The money I can make is insignificant when compared to the problems I would have to endure, Mr. Giuseppe,” said Desmond. “You obviously are new to this game, so I will let you leave here alive. Take my advice—put an end to this madness. Or I’ll do it for you.”

“Well…” Giuseppe stood from his seat and straightened his suit jacket. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Desmond. I’ll show myself out.”

Giuseppe did just that, leaving Desmond before the fire, sipping his drink and contemplating the discussion he just had with the younger man. Another voice broke the silence.

“Sometimes, I really don’t understand you, Desmond.”

It belonged to Shrike, the man Desmond hired as his personal bodyguard. These days, Desmond rarely went anywhere without Shrike nearby, usually hiding in the shadows. He stepped into the light generated by the fire and sat in the chair vacated by Giuseppe.

“The guy who’s been bringing those venom patches into Blüdhaven—who’s been causing problems for you—walks into your house, sits right next to you, and you just let him walk out?”

“There’s something familiar about this Giuseppe… I know he’s not who he says he is,” said Desmond. “I’m interested in learning more about him before I end his life.”

“But you will kill him, right?”

Desmond tipped his glass back, allowing the fine scotch to flow down his throat, leaving nothing but the clinking ice cubes behind. “Eventually.”

The place was relatively easy to find. Pretty much the only house even in the area. Redhorn went around by the front entrance. As for me, I figured I’d have a look around the place on my own. The place was only one story, but according to the guy in the Back Room, it had a basement. That was probably where Barrera took his victims.

I snuck in through a side window into the kitchen. I could hear Redhorn pounding on the door, waiting for an answer. Part of me felt I should let him in, but I figured he’d make his own way inside if Barrera didn’t answer. Besides, I really didn’t want him here to begin with. His daughter’s involvement complicated things, and if he caught sight of her—either restrained, dead or worse—who knows how he might react.

Who knows how I might react, for that matter.

As I moved from the kitchen into the main hall, I noticed the door under the staircase. My fingers wrapped around the handle and I was glad to discover it was unlocked. I slowly opened the door and moved down the stairs, taking care not to make any noise. I could hear grunting as I descended the steps, and my hand tightened around the escrima stick. I was prepared to expect the worst when I set foot on the ground, and the sight I was greeted with was not the one I expected.

Barrera was hunched over, dressed from head to toe in black leather. Just as Redhorn said his wife had seen him. His hips were thrusting, but it wasn’t a girl. No, I could see it was a woman lying beneath him.

“You son of a bitch…” I muttered.

Barrera turned his attention to me and quickly pulled his garment together. That’s when I saw the face of his victim. And it was the last person I thought I would see here.

“Amy…” Her name came under my breath, almost inaudible. I grit my teeth together and didn’t even say another word. I felt my blood boil and I lunged forward, bringing down my escrima stick. Brutale sidestepped it with amazing speed and he reached for his chest. There was a bandola of some sort around and attached to it were throwing knives. He withdrew a couple and hurled them at me.

I deflected both the daggers with the stick and chucked it at him. He grabbed it before it could strike him and threw it back towards me. I ducked and charged forward, rising up as I came closer with my fist following suit. It connected hard against his jaw and he recoiled.

“How dare you come here!” he said.

“How dare I?” I practically hissed the words as they left my lips. Nightarangs flew from my fingertips. “You’re a monster, Barrera!”

“Brutale,” he said. He threw his own knives, each one of them connecting with my nightarangs and knocking them from their course. “My name is Brutale!”

“It’s fitting,” I said.

I reached behind my back and drew my second escrima stick. I leapt into the air and slammed it on the ground where Brutale had stood only an instant before. He reached down to his thighs and drew two larger daggers. He swung them towards me and I blocked them with my escrima stick.

“Why’d you do it?” I asked. “Why Amy? Why all those girls? Just what kind of a monster are you?”

“Monster?” he asked. “Is the lion monstrous when it kills its prey? Is a spider monstrous when it toys with its victims? Are humans monstrous when they commit atrocities against each other in the name of ideals? I simply follow what’s in my nature.”

I pushed upwards with my escrima stick, causing Brutale to stumble back. I leapt over his head and swung the stick, connecting it against the side of his face.

“It’s not nature when you rape and kill innocents, especially children.”

“What if it is?” asked Brutale. “It’s been happening for centuries, hero. It happens every day. No one can stop it. Not even you.”

“Maybe not, but I can sure as hell stop you,” I said. I hurled the escrima stick at him and it struck his throat. He wasn’t fast enough to dodge it that time. Brutale doubled over, gasping for breath. I rushed in and delivered a kick to his head, throwing him back against the wall.

I looked over and saw Amy putting her clothes back together as best she could. She was still on the floor and she wouldn’t even look at me.

“The closet over there,” she said, pointing to the opposite end of the room. I nodded and made my way to the door. When I opened it, I saw a young girl inside, huddled into a corner. I walked in and tapped her on the shoulder and she pulled away.

“It’s okay, I’m one of the good guys,” I said. She carefully opened her eyes and looked at me. I tried to smile at her, but I couldn’t bring myself to maintain it once I saw her tear-stained face. She leapt at me and threw her arms around my neck. I picked her up and felt her small body quiver as she sobbed. I carried her outside as Redhorn charged down the steps. He saw Brutale, Amy and then looked and saw me with his daughter.

“Give her to me,” he said.

I nodded and handed her over to him. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Thank Christ…” he muttered.

I restrained Brutale and punched him once again in the face for good measure. Then I heard the click. I turned and saw Redhorn aiming a gun at Brutale. I stepped into the path.

“Out of the way,” he said.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What do you think, I’m gonna put that bastard out of his misery,” said Redhorn.

“No you’re not. He’s going to jail.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it. Prison’s too good for a bastard like that.”

“That’s not the way I work,” I said.

“Yeah, well it sure as hell’s the way I work!” said Redhorn.

“You have your daughter, just take her home and call for back-up,” I said. “You don’t want to do this, Redhorn. This isn’t justice.”

“Fine,” he said. He raised the gun and it was now pointed at my head. “Then you’re officially an accomplice. Which means I’ll have to kill you, too. So either you get out of my way, or you die defending scum like this.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amy get to her feet and walk towards me. She kept her eyes trained on me, and I could see she had her own gun in her hand. She raised it and also pointed it at my head. But then she turned and the barrel was now pointed at Redhorn’s.

“Drop it,” she said. “Or I drop you.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Rohrbach?” he asked. “You forget what that bastard did to y—“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she hissed. “Now drop it, Chief. Or your little girl grows up without a father.”

Redhorn looked at his daughter, then slowly lowered his gun.

“Good,” said Amy. “Now go wait upstairs. Call for back-up and take your daughter to the hospital.”

“Did he…?” asked Redhorn.

“I don’t know,” said Amy. “So that should be your first priority.”

Redhorn fixed his gaze on me for a few moments. “This doesn’t change anything between us, kid.”

“I figured as much,” I said.

Redhorn didn’t respond, just carried his daughter up the steps. Amy looked down at Brutale, before holding her gun out to me.

“Take it,” she said. “I’m not sure I can control myself much longer.”

I did as she said.