Overhead, the sun was shining. Birds were singing, the breeze was gentle, flowers bloomed around most of the tombstones. It was a beautiful day for a funeral.


The grave was open, the casket suspended over it, closed, covered with flowers. A minister was quoting from the Bible. Around the ceremony were people, none of whom were family. Friends, business acquaintances, and one fiancé. Mario Falcone stood behind the tombstone, his head bowed as the minister spoke.

At the far off road, where all the cars were parked, Bruce Wayne silently watched the distant ceremony from inside his limousine. Seated behind the steering wheel was his butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Sitting behind Bruce Wayne was an attractive young woman of about fifteen years. She was sitting still, staring at her clasped hands, just as Bruce had instructed her to do.

The funeral was for Julia Madison, whom the young woman had killed several days ago. Since that night when the Batman had found her and defeated her, she’d stayed with Bruce Wayne. She still did not know why he was allowing her to live. From the way he was acting, she knew that he must have felt very strongly about the woman she’d killed.

At the gravesite, the ceremony had ended. The casket was being lowered into Julia’s final resting-place. The crowd was parting. Mario Falcone walked towards Bruce Wayne’s limousine.

“Stay here,” Bruce Wayne said, though not vocally. The message had been sent through a simple gesture, as if the woman were a dog. Gestures were all she understood, the language of movement and its lack thereof. Bruce suspected that, since birth, she’d been trained to be that way. And speech had no room for comprehension in her mind. “Alfred, start the car.”

Bruce Wayne opened the door himself, and quickly closed it upon exiting. It wouldn’t do for Mario Falcone to see the woman. Briskly, Bruce walked to meet Mario.

“You weren’t at the ceremony, Bruce.”

“Facing death was never something I could do,” Bruce replied. “I wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t asked me. Mario, how are you doing?”

“I’ve become a widower before I even had a chance to become a husband,” Mario Falcone said. “She was taken from me, Bruce. Ripped away, just like everybody else I’ve ever loved. How did you cope, after losing your parents?”

Bruce shrugged. “As well as any six year old would cope, I’d imagine. A lot of that time is a blur. The doctors I’ve seen use a lot of fancy words that I don’t understand. Disassociation was one of them.”

“That’s not something I’m unfamiliar with. I barely remember my mother, I was so young when she died. In a way, I always blamed Alberto for her death. Perhaps Sofia blamed him too, though for father’s death. The two of them had been so close. When I left, my father and I were barely speaking to each other. I had just refused his offer to join in the business, you see. He must have been so disappointed in my mother, for the children she bore him. The only son he thought was actually worthy of the business wanted nothing to do with it. Sophia was everything he wanted, except for her being a woman.”

“I shudder to think of what my father would think if he saw me today,” Bruce broke in.

Mario smiled. “Ah, but if your father had been alive to raise you, Bruce, you would have turned out a lot different.” He turned to the grave, which was being filled in. “I’d like to think that, if she were alive, my mother would have approved of Julia. Who knows how things would have turned out if my mother hadn’t died. Things could have been a lot different for the Falcone family, if she had only been there.”

“The only thing I can say for sure,” said Bruce Wayne. “Is that your mother would be proud if she saw you today. You refused to become your father.”

The look that Mario gave Bruce was hard and sad. “Sometimes saying ‘no’ isn’t enough. I still have enemies, Bruce. Loved ones are still taken from me. Who knows, if I’d been more like my father, things might have turned out better for me.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“That’s the beauty of wondering, Bruce. You don’t have to believe in something for it to eat away at you.” Mario looked out at the road. Only his car and Bruce’s remained. “I should get going. There’ll be a reception at the house. Will I see you there?”

“I have... a thing,” Bruce said. “But, if you need anything, I’m here for you.”

“That is one thing I will always believe in, Bruce.” The two men shook hands, and parted. Mario to his car, Bruce to his.
 

Broken in half, the Bo staff was hurled to the ground. Immediately following it was Tim Drake, in his Robin costume. Standing over him and the remains of his weapon was the young woman who’d been taken in by the Batman. She did nothing but watched, and waited while Robin returned to his feet.

Moving unsteadily, Robin threw a punch. The girl dodged easily, catching Robin’s wrist and twisting it behind his back.


“Ugn,” was the sound that came out through Robin’s gritted teeth. The grip on his wrist was released, and a kick to his rear sent Robin face-first to the stone floor of the cave.

“It’s over,” the Batman said from the shadows. “Robin, stand up and bow so that she’ll understand.”

It took a few seconds for Robin to do this. His whole body felt as though somebody had been pounding on it for the better part of an hour. He’d been sparring with the girl for only ten minutes. She returned Robin’s bow with one of her own. After he limped out of the training area, she broke into a series of martial exercises.

“Is there any chance you’ll tell me who she is?” Robin asked the Batman.

“Maybe when I find out myself,” was the Batman’s reply. “There’s no point in giving her a name. Just like every other word, she won’t respond to it. Fighting is the only way she can communicate.”

“Oh, so she was just saying ‘hi’?” Robin asked. “Alfred said she’s been here two weeks. Why am I only meeting her now? And since when do you bring in people off the street without knowing anything about them?”

The Batman stepped out of the shadows, and just like that all of Robin’s aggression melted into apprehension. “You’re still recovering from what Two-Face did to you. I didn’t want her to cripple you by accident. As for what I know, it’s enough.”

“Care to fill me in?” Robin squeaked. “For one thing, why doesn’t she talk?”

Instead of looking at Robin, the Batman was watching as the girl executed a perfect triple-round-house kick. Then she moved into a series of jabs using various fists. Folded knuckle, closed over thumb, open hand chop, heel of palm, extended middle knuckle, and so on.

Robin had to know, he decided. “Because her tongue and vocal cords were severed. Every since she was maybe two or three years old, she’s been incapable of speech. She’s the way she is because somebody trained her to be like this.”

“And you know who did this,” Robin said. He’d managed to catch the slight trembling in the Batman’s throat.

“I have my suspicions. There was a man I trained with, nearly twenty years ago. He had a theory.”

“So, how does that place her here and now? Did the guy entrust her to you or something?”

As the Batman watched, the girl finished her exercises, faced him, and took a step back. He nodded. The timing had been exact.

“Rest is over,” he told Robin. “Get back in there. The only things you need to know are the things she can show you.”

The teenager’s cheeks reddened a little. “Well, not that I wouldn’t mind or anything, but we haven’t even had dinner yet.” One glare from the Batman shut Robin up. Reluctantly, he stepped towards the girl.

Her immediate response was a straight kick to Robin’s head. He stepped aside, easily avoiding it, and shot out a punch to her lower thigh. It connected, and the girl fell sideways. A cartwheel, and she was back on her feet, though favoring her right leg. She was watching Robin with narrowed eyes, then she sprang forward.

Another kick, a sweeping one aimed at Robin’s mid-section. He stepped back quickly, but not quick enough. The heel of her foot grazed across his stomach. She was still moving forward as she turned entirely around, and the back of her fist struck Robin just below the shoulder. He managed to stay on his feet, but no power on Earth could make him move that arm.

Like it was a reflex, Robin’s leg kicked straight up. She was caught just above the crotch, where a number of the bodies more delicate organs were situated. The Batman saw that she did indeed mess herself, but neither that nor the blow succeeded in taking her concentration. Before Robin’s leg could retreat, she had taken it by the ankle, and turned to the side as she yanked it up. Robin was able to execute a kicking back flip, but because she had turned the foot had missed her by inches.

And then, just as Robin had landed, her right leg shot out and caught him squarely in the balls. The Batman didn’t watch Robin as he fell, near to tears. Instead, he watched the girl, and the amused smile that had crossed over her face.

Sweeping his arm over his chest, the Batman told her that the training was over. With a nod, she turned from the writhing Robin and walked out the training area. First she would go clean up, then read the lesson plan the Batman had prepared for her. Though incapable of physical speech, the girl could read several languages, and appeared to be exceptionally bright.

Watching her leave, the Batman could see that Cain had done well in choosing his test subject.

“Alfred will bring you some ice,” was the first thing the Batman said to Robin. The young partner was on his knees, both hands placed over his groin as though to hold back the throbbing pain.

“Thanks,” Robin gasped out in a voice that was about two octaves higher than usual. “And yeah, I’ve learned my lesson. In her language, everything goes.”


“It’s how she was taught,” the Batman replied. “Never hold back. It’s one thing we’ll need to teach her against.”

Wheezing, Robin looked up at the Batman, his eyes tearing over. “Wait, you mean?”

“Unless given very explicit instructions, she will fight to the death.”

Robin’s face scrunched up in pain. “And that would be preferable to this because?” When the Batman started to turn away, Robin called after him. “Wait, I’m trying to be serious. Getting kicked in the boys just does something to a guy. Has she? I mean...”

“Not that I know of.”

Having remembered himself, Robin laughed. “Sorry, I almost forgot. If she had, you wouldn’t have taken her in.”

“If she had,” said the Batman. “I could almost understand. Almost.”

Though still massaging the injured area, Robin had at least managed to get on his feet. “From what you’ve said, I guess I could too. So, is she going to be part of the team? Maybe a new Batgirl?”

Silent, the Batman started to walk away. Whatever his doubts might have been concerning the girl’s status as a killer, he wasn’t about to let her loose on the criminals of Gotham City. Certainly not as Batgirl. That name had belonged to Barbara Gordon.

As though just thinking her name had done it, the computerized voice of Oracle crackled into the Batman’s earpiece.

“-been two so far.”

Pressing his hand up against his ear, the Batman moved towards the central computers. “Your signal is weak. What’s going on?”

“There’s been a break in the Zsasz investigation.” Once she’d heard a man dressed as the Batman had been involved, Oracle had made it a priority to keep the real Batman informed. “You were right. Mad Hatter has also been attacked. They just found him, but apparently it’d been done before Zsasz was killed.”

Quickly, Oracle gave the details she’d managed to gather from the police waveband.

“So, it’s confirmed,” she concluded. “Somebody is out there, attacking freaks.”

“Keep me up-to-date on the investigation.” The Batman believed in the Gotham City Police Department. He knew they would uncover more. “Especially if there’s another victim.”

The connection broke off. Taking his seat in front of the central computers, the Batman pulled up the file he’d made and added to it. Robin was walking up behind him, on unsteady legs.

“Another one?”

“The first one. Mad Hatter. Lobotomized with his own equipment.”

“Ouch. Suddenly I’m not in much pain.”

“He wasn’t killed though. Whoever attacked Hatter was only using him as a means to get at Zsasz. Used.”

Following the train of thought, Robin nodded. “And Zsasz, a killer, was killed. This guy is punishing his victims, proportionate to their crimes.”

“And Catwoman, a burglar who violated homes” the Batman’s voice trailed off, with a hard edge.

Robin frowned. “We don’t know if this is the same guy, Bruce. There was so much time between attacks.”

A visual close-up of Zsasz’s body appeared on the monitor, split-screened with a close-up of Catwoman’s chest. The Batman sectioned off a wound from each and enlarged them. To Robin’s eye, they did look similar.

“There’s something else.” A third picture joined the two on the monitor. This was a photograph of the bat-symbol, carved into a man’s chest. Again, the Batman enlarged the photo. It was virtually identical to the first two.

“I remember that,” Robin said. “It was the Tally Man, after he’d fought.” Tim’s voice trailed off.

“This isn’t conclusive,” the Batman reminded his young partner. “But whoever’s behind these attacks is using clawed gauntlets virtually identical to what Jean-Paul had used while he was Batman.”

“A new vigilante stalking criminals,” Robin began. “A new teen sidekick in the Bat Cave. And to top it all off, Mario Falcone is back in town.”

“Stop right there,” the Batman warned. “Evidence suggests that the first appeared long before the last two.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me about her, Bruce. Plus, I’ve read about the Falcone family-”

“That’s all they were. Mario’s family.” There was a definite edge to the Batman’s tone. “One that he never wanted anything to do with, that he even turned informant against. The man’s lost everything because of what his family was.”

“Sounds like the perfect reason to hunt their kind down,” Robin observed.

The four of them stood in the middle of a vast, empty warehouse. All were an equal distant from the others, eyeing each with suspicion. It was not in their nature to trust, after all. All four were criminals, the powerful heads of crime families in Gotham City.

Two-Face. Black Mask. Penguin. Riddler. With Scarface and his aide, the Ventriloquist, they were collectively known as the Five Freak Families.

There was space for a fifth person, the one they had come to meet. Not one of them, but deserving of respect all the same. Flipping his coin through the air, Two-Face wondered what the man’s reaction would be upon seeing him.

“Gentlemen, I’m pleased that you all accepted my invitation.”

The door to the warehouse had opened. Stepping through the doorway was Mario Falcone. He stepped into his place, eyeing the other four without suspicion. “Oh, one of you decided not to come.”

“When are things least safe for a criminal?” questioned the Riddler. “When something is hunting criminals.”

“And it’s not the bat,” added Black Mask. “The only reason I’m here, Falcone, is because I used to pay your father protection.”

Catching his coin and glancing at the face, Two-Face looked straight at Mario Falcone. “I’m here to see if I should kill you too.”

“I don’t celebrate holidays,” Mario said. “Nor do I play hangman. As great a man as my father was, he abandoned the old ways. He hired freaks, like you people, and he drove Alberto and Sofia to become just like the rest of you.”

“Well, now we know what you think of us,” remarked Penguin.

“No, not you.” Mario Falcone spread his hands. “You, gentlemen, are businessmen. Outside the law, perhaps, but businessmen all the same. Just like my father was.

“Mr. Cobblepot, you specialize in vice and in fencing stolen goods.

“Mr. Nigma, you know everything that happens in this city, and you mastermind eighty percent of all crimes committed each year.

“Mr. Sionis, you deal in drugs, and your connections with legitimate businesses places you in an ideal position to launder vast sums of money.

“Scarface is old-fashioned, and deals with extortion, racketeering and loan-sharking. Still, he’s every bit as successful as the rest of you.”

Mario Falcone turned to look directly at Two-Face, staring him down.

“Finally, we have you Mr. Dent. Back when every official in this city was corrupt, you were clean. Now, you use what you have on each of them to control Gotham City’s legal system. For a price, you can get anybody off. And no matter what you get arrested for, the chances of you ending up in prison remain zero.”

Mario Falcone smiled at the four businessmen before him. “Have I just about summed it up, gentlemen?”

“Who wants to retake control of Gotham?” asked the Riddler. “Mario Falcone.”

“Well, technically I never had control,” Mario replied. “But yes, I intend to wrest control from each and every one of you. You see, gentlemen, for all your trappings as businessmen, at the core you’re all freaks. You make noise and draw attention, with your riddles and your games. That might all be well and good for sending you into the cozy revolving door of Arkham, but it’s just not good for business.”

“Do me a favor,” growled Black Mask. “Don’t lump me in with these psychos.”

“No, you’re simply a momma’s boy,” Mario retorted. “Unable to let go.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” Two-Face said as he motioned for Black Mask not to take another step towards Falcone. “We both know what this is about?”

Mario’s gaze had not once flinched from Two-Face’s. “Oh, you mean that little incident when you killed my father and my sister? At the time she died, Sofia was no longer my sister. As for my father” Mario shrugged. “I would have killed him myself, eventually.”

Turning to look at Riddler, Mario continued. “Oh, and I happen to have a riddle of my own. Who killed Johnny Viti? Not Alberto Falcone, because at the time he was on the phone with me, whining about how father wasn’t giving him any responsibility.” The gaze returned to Two-Face, and Mario smiled. “I suppose we’ll never know.”

“This is a waste of my time,” cut in Penguin. “If the only reason you called us in was to announce your debut in the Gotham underworld, there’s nothing left to talk about. You’ll make a move, one of us will kill you, and life will move on.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Mario conceded. He clucked his tongue. “Still, it’s a shame that Scarface wasn’t here. He should get the memo soon. Until we meet again, gentlemen.


Turning around, Mario paused and looked over his shoulder at the four men. Black Mask had his hand in his jacket, and Two-Face was poised to flip his coin. “One other thing. Call it paranoia, but I took the liberty of taping explosives to the supports under this warehouse.” He held up his hand. There was a device on his wrist. “The detonator is connected to my heartbeat. If I die, my wish for a burial at sea will be granted immediately. Until we meet again.”

The four crime lords did nothing as Mario Falcone walked out of the warehouse.

Pulling in through the police cordon in Aparo Park, Captain Essen’s car came to a stop. Lieutenant Harvey Bullock was on the scene, and approached the car as Captain Sarah Essen was stepping out.

“Sorry for the late-night call, Captain,” Bullock said in a tone that wasn’t apologetic. “But this was something you had to see right away.”

There was a spotlight fixed on one of the trees in Aparo Park. A maple tree. Captain Essen saw that something was hanging from the tree. A small shape.

“Is it really against the law to hang a dummy?” Sarah asked Bullock?

The body hanging from the tree, by its neck, was the wooden dummy Scarface.

“I’ll have to call the D.A. about it,” replied the Lieutenant. “There might be a law against bad irony, I guess.” He gestured for the Captain to follow him behind the tree. “Assault I know, and that’s what we got over here. The med boys have him stable, but if the ambulance doesn’t arrive soon we could have a homicide.”

“I got here before the ambulance?”

“It’s a typical night in Gotham,” Bullock explained. “The life of a loon like Wesker isn’t exactly top priority.”

“I’ll see what I can do to change that.” Captain Essen reached into her jacket for her cell phone. “If this was the same guy that got Zsasz and Tetch, Wesker could be our one shot at an I.D.”

Bullock gave a light chuckle. “I wouldn’t bet on it, Captain. Sure, maybe the Ventriloquist could carve out a likeness.”

The two had gone around the tree. The flashlight in Bullock’s hand was shining on a body that two officers were working over. Captain Essen moved in closer. The body was lying on a bench, with a pool of blood congealing underneath. Before Captain Essen saw the injury, she saw the shard of wood sticking up.

“It matches a gouge in the dummy’s face,” the Lieutenant said about the shard. “Ain’t nobody here’s qualified to take it out. Figure it’ll do more harm that good.”

Fighting the queasiness in her stomach, Captain Essen forced herself to move closer. The shard of wood was sticking out of the Ventriloquist’s throat.

“Seems to be breathing okay, but not a peep’s coming out,” Bullock went on. “My guess, whoever did this was aiming for the vocal cords. Ain’t no way is the Ventriloquist gonna give a verbal description.”

Punching up a number on her cell phone, Captain Essen placed it against her ear. “This is Captain Sarah Essen-Gordon. I need an ambulance at Aparo Park now. Also, have the top surgical team at Mercy General prepared to operate within the hour. Just shut up and do it.” Ending the signal, the Captain slipped the cell phone back into her jacket and looked at the Lieutenant. “Bullock, tell me we have anything now that links this to the other two.”

“Crime Scene will have to take a closer look and forensics will have to compare, but the gouge in that dummy wasn’t made by any knife. Could have been the same claws that cut up Zsasz.”

“We’ll need to wait on the labs to be definite,” Captain Essen muttered. “Okay, sweep the area for anything. Witnesses, tracks, torn clothing, anything that we can use.”

“You got it, Cap-” A ringing started to come from under Bullock’s jacket. Momentarily forgetting who stood next to him, the Lieutenant cursed as he fumbled for his cell phone. “Damn things. Yeah, Bullock here. Just spit it out. Oh fuck. All right, thanks.”

“What was that about?” Essen asked.

“You said you wanted something we could use,” Bullock explained. “Well, how does another body sound? The Joker just washed up out of Cape Carmine.”

Next Issue: As the bodies pile up, one person decides to try and find who’s responsible, with the Batman being the prime suspect! Plus, Mario Falcone visits an old friend in prison.
 

Story © 2004 Steve Crosby and may not be reproduced without permission.