"Let's go, let's go!"

The four men turned and followed their leader, their weapons trained behind them. If they separated they were done, if they stayed together then they would be safe. Not even the Bat could take out four armed men, each firing away at him in a circle.

They ran now. Their boots splashing in the slime and refuse that covers the alleyways of Gotham City. A bum looked up from his newspaper bed, saw their guns, and cowered, screaming against the unrelenting, uncaring brick of the building he slept against.

They were in the street now. Here they were most at risk. He could come at them from any direction, any way, with anyone backing him up even though he didn't need them. They had to get back to the van and from there they would be safe. The vehicle was bullet proof, the tires were guaranteed not to blow out from bullet, batarang or explosive. A nice terrorist vehicle all round.

"Stop!"

They all spun in every direction, their planned cool falling apart at the sound of his voice. They hadn't been expecting him to announce himself - much the reason why they were now flustered.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!" the leader cried. "Take him out! Kill him!"

The sleeping streets of Gotham City ringed with the sound of gunfire- a sound the town wasn't used to being without for long- as the five men fired off round after round into the darkness. They screamed and raged against the dark that held their enemy but nothing came for them.

"Where is he?!" The leader yelled. "Where is he?!"

A hard boot hit him in the stomach, then another in the face and grabbed his gun as it flew into the air; the men turned to fire on him, the infamous Bat, to find him gone into the shadows. They said nothing as they gazed into the night then they were all hit from behind as his partner swung out of the shadows.

"Think I was too forward when I told them to stop?" Robin asked as he leapt from one of the men's backs.

The other man didn't respond, only growled as one of the men reached for his gun. He stopped short of his goal as the dark man grabbed his short hair, nearly ripping it from his scalp, then jerked his head up.

"Terrorists . . . " he said then a stunning right cross separated scalp from hair and man from consciousness.

"The last one's getting away!" Robin yelled, running after him. The dark man looked up as he headed over to the man Robin had knocked into the concrete then ran after him, quickly overtaking the boy.

The last man ran, his breath ripping out of him, like mad for a safe haven he couldn't name. Anywhere the Bat wouldn't find him. He looked over his shoulder, he was right on his heels. A scream tried to escape the man as he saw him approach but stopped short. He stumbled for a second, all the Bat needed to jump onto his back and hammer him into the concrete, blood and teeth shooting into the gutter.

"I don't like it when you run," the dark man said as he pulled the last terrorist's head up, his back popping from the strain.

"Azrael!" Robin yelled as he caught up to him. "Did you get him?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I got him."

"Great," Robin said as he knelt down in front of the man. "Let's see what he has to say."

The terrorist looked at the boy for a moment with dizzy eyes then smiled his blood smeared smile and opened his mouth. He had no tongue.

"Batman."

"Azrael told me about the tongueless man."

"Where were you?"

Batman looked at him, his mind taking a moment to come up with an excuse for Bruce Wayne being stuck at a gala. "I was . . . detained. Personal business."

"I didn't know you had personal business."

"And you're not going to learn any more. Let's see him."

"Kyle Falcone". She hated that name. Her name was Selena. The name her mother had given her. Selena Kyle. She had died a few years ago with her father, the Roman, by the long lost Holiday. She had assumed the Falcone family name, her own name, in an attempt to become a decent, law abiding citizen. Being the sole heiress of mob money was quite an incentive in that regard. Her days of being a cat thief were long gone. Just like Catwoman.

She stepped into the airport now having no place else to go. It was still a day until her plane left for Gotham. For him. What was she going to do when she got there? She couldn't just show up on his doorstep like a poor little waif and expect him to take her in. Whatever they had had was a lifetime gone. They were young then. Not even thirty. Now forty was fast approaching. How would things have changed? She hoped as much as she had.

"What are we supposed to do in this situation, Batman?" Jim Gordon said from the corner.

Batman looked down at the tablet the man had scribbled a few cryptic messages on. "Die", "hail", and "kill" were the most prevalent among them. It was his job to find out if this silent man was just a run of the mill lunatic or a part of a threatening cell.

"I don't know. He won't write anything else?"

"No."

"Hr."

The man scratched his balding head and smiled evilly at Batman.

"Jim . . . Would you step outside?"

"Fantastic Act."

"Hn. Of course . . . "

"President Scott's orders."

The balding man looked at Gordon when he said that then began to grunt and bang his hands on the table.

"What's he doing?"

"I . . . don't know."

"Was it something I said?"

"That or your pipe. Put it out."

Gordon consented, dumping the tobacco onto the floor then putting his pipe away in his shirt pocket. The man continued his raving as if he had done nothing at all.

"No. That's not it."

"Wish I hadn't wasted my smoke now."

"What did you say?"

"I said I wish I hadn't--"

"Before that. When I asked you if you could leave."

"I said I couldn't because of the Fantastic Act. You know that."

"Then what?"

"I don't know."

"Think."

Gordon was quiet then, "President Scott?"

The balding man went even more nuts, raging as he pounded the table then lunging at Batman. Batman sneered, blocked his hand, then back handed him to the wall.

"Don't touch."

The balding man stared up at him then spit in his direction. Batman stepped out of the way and it landed harmlessly on the floor.

"President Scott."

The man raged. Batman stopped him with a boot to the stomach.

"Who do you work for?"

The terrorist clenched his teeth and made to lunge for Batman again then found Batman's hand around his throat, his body thrown up against the wall.

"I want to know who you work for. Jim, get me the paper."

Gordon brought it over to him. Batman placed it in front of the terrorist's face then dropped him to the floor. "Write it out. Who do you work for?"

"Have you considered the fact he may not speak English?"

"Only if he chooses not to. He wrote his little messages in English. It's his choice if he wants to be cooperative. You know as well as I do that I don't really give a damn about the Fantastic Act. I'll hurt him if he refuses."

The man handed back the tablet to Batman then tried to jab his hand with the pen. Batman grabbed his wrist and cracked a bone. The terrorist howled and fell to the floor as Batman casually examined the paper.

A snake with many heads.

"What is it?"

"Hydra. I think they're going after Alan Scott."