What happened

He'd done his best to keep himself from picking at the skin under the bandage that House had placed on his hand, but in the end, curiosity and morbid obsession won out, and he'd made the bandage bloody. Thankfully, it wasn't dripping through the white, he'd just gotten the sterile plain color all prettied up with red.

In one hand he held a black bag. It could have been flung over one shoulder, but then he might have ended up looking like one of those foofy men who carried a fucking murse and got their nails done. Jack did not get his nails done. Vanity was one thing, bordering on feminine was another.

Barbra's outfit was a little worse for wear. He'd worn it all the way home, and then for some time after. He'd played with the boys in it. Not thinking about it at all. Bud had so completely enjoyed the smell of the hem that he'd left with it, and Lou had decided to sleep on it when it'd been removed from Jack's body. He hoped Babs didn't mind a little hyena drool.

All day he'd been hanging out in her usual spots, waiting for her to turn up. She hadn't shown anywhere. He'd stopped in a coffee shop and had gotten himself a giant thing consisting of caffiene, chocolate, and some other things that maybe shouldn't have been mixed in with the previous two, but he'd insisted.

He stood outside drinking it and trying to think of where to look for Babs next.
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Who: Babs and Matt
When: the morning after this
Where: Matt's apartment
Summary: Babs confronts Matt on a little suspicion she has.


She truely hoped that Mr. Murdock wasn't surprised when she rapped sharply on his door directly the next morning. She gave him time to wake up and eat breakfast, but no more than that. Babs was tense, and having more and more things piled on top of her already large pile wasn't helping.

At least this was one thing that could be solved. Hopefully quickly and with this one visit. Then she could get back to her clock tower and check problem number gazillion off of her list. It would be back to Jack.

Babs knocked on the door again and then settled her hands back into her lap, right on top of the pile of materials she'd brought along with her.

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Characters: Huntress (of New Earth), Oracle, and any roommates/protectors
Setting: The Clock Tower
Summary: Morning can't come soon enough. After Oracle returns home, and Helena Wayne calls, Helena Bertinelli drops in for tea unexpectedly...

Blending with the pre-dawn sky of navy and purple, Huntress plummeted from one of The City Institute's tallest structures. Her midnight hair whipping back against her ears, her cape fluttering like a frightened fish on a hook, she fell until the swing of the jumpline thrust her upwards. Hurtling up and up, Huntress gained enough momentum to release and retract the grapple mechanism of the 'line. She soared the remainder of the distance to her destination.

Her destination: the face of the Clock Tower.

As a substitute teacher, Ms. Bertinelli's assigned classroom had afforded her a nickel-tour view of the Institute's Clock Tower. Seeing it from the school's grounds, Helena had been jarred by how familiar it was. From a distance, it merely appeared to be similar, but from her classroom, Huntress had been certain that it was the same. The clock tower was identical to the one Barbara Gordon had destroyed in Gotham City. Through her incipient understanding of The City's metaphysics, Helena could only assume that the clock tower had not been destroyed during Gotham's gang war games. Rather, it had been absorbed by The City. And if the clock tower was here, it's sole resident may have been brought along as well.

After class, Helena had returned to her own home for a power nap. Having fallen out of the practice of living a constant double-life, she slept through most of the night. She chided herself for missing out on her chance to investigate the clock tower, and resolved to visit at a decent hour of the morning.

No one ever won an argument with Helena by calling for decency, least of all Helena herself.

Scaling down the side of the clock face, Helena knew precisely how to avoid the clock tower's security systems. She had done it before, and, for a time, she had been given free access to the building. If the clock tower had been brought here at the time of its seeming destruction, she should still have access to it; alternatively, it had been quite some time since it's arrival in The City. Plenty of time for Barbara to have changed the locks. In the spirit of the trust Babs had shared with her, Helena stood passively at the doorway beside the clock face, removed her right glove, and placed her hand on the sensor pad. A bar of amber light slid down the pad, recording Helena's handprint, body temperature, and for all she knew, her DNA signature. Another moment would tell her if she received an open door, or an intruder alert countermeasures...

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Characters: Earth 2's Huntress and Daredevil
Summary: Just your average rooftop meeting, in an attempt to fight and prevent crime.

Wayne Scott may not have been aware of it, but he was in big trouble. The man who had more than once provided an alibi for various gangsters in the City had finally grown a conscience and attempted to quit the business.

However, most who were on mobster payrolls were smart enough to know that it was one job that you couldn't quit. Ever. There was a lifetime contract that involved not only yourself, but everyone you'd ever cared for as well.

Huntress quickly leapt the space between two rooftops without looking down, dropping to a crouch as she surveyed the streets below. The black towncar had disappeared from view in the time she had taken to cross the rooftops.

Briefly she thought of how much easier this would be if she had remembered to bring the commlink that Barbara had supplied her with on arrival in the City.

But she'd been avoiding Barbara for months now. It had just become too painful to work with the people who had made up her family in another world, and not be remembered, or known. Not to mention the fact that Barbara herself seemed to have, in a way, held Helena's place in their world. It was clear how fond Bruce was of her. The daughter he never had.

She sighed to herself. Not that she begrudged Barbara anything. Nor did she begrudge this version of her father a daughter.

Nonetheless, it was painful. Being around the City's Bruce Wayne only served to remind her of what she had turned her back on. Of what had been lost due to her own carelessness and deceit.

A shrill scream penetrated her thoughts, clearing her mind as her body sprang into action, using a zipline to lower herself to a nearby balcony, readying a batarang as she landed, watching the action, and waiting for her cue to jump in.

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"What—"

Babs held up a hand, silencing the younger man behind her. She needed to gain her bearings in her own house, and while she knew Kyle was as shocked as she was she needed him to be as quiet as she was. She needed to concentrate.

Her eyes ran over the bottom floor of her home critically. Silence except for small footfalls coming from the second floor. Jake. Then that was where all the action had taken place. Babs kept her hand up, and kept looking. They were the only three in the house and upon figuring that out she let out a sigh of relief.

"Go find Batman." Babs looked back at him out of the corner of her eye. He'd been with her for the afternoon as she worked. He'd flown over Arkham for her, reporting back on the little he'd been able to see. Kyle knew what she expected. "Go. Tell him what's happened here. And then patrol. It's going to be all night."

"And you?"

She looked up at the ceiling. "Jake is upstairs." Meaning she would be too. Her fingers gripped the staff under the armrest of her chair.

Kyle simply nodded, suiting up as he did so. Very easy for him, Babs watched approvingly and when he took off, flying out of the open door, she frowned slightly. There was so much to do, so many out in the field tonight, and here she was at home. Because of Jack.

So fun to deal with break-ins when there was real work to be done. Babs sighed, and headed over to the elevator.

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It was when she returned home, for what was supposed to be a short break to grab some supplies, that she finally got a camera to work. One camera in the entire building, which was outfitted with over thirty, but it was still a major accomplishment and Babs wasn't going to complain. She got the thing to face away from one of the dirty toilets first off. She was tired of staring at the things, but had been for a good few hours now as she tried to fix her connections in Arkham. She wanted her video back, she wanted her camera mobility back, and she wanted sound.

She'd finally stopped trying to get sound right before lunch, but she was determined to be able to move the damned cameras. Maybe it was something about her hacking abilities from her home computer or maybe Jack was just having a little fun. Either way, Babs was glad for it

She wrote down each thing she'd done before the camera had started working, hoping to be able to repeat it when she got back to the manor. There were quite a few steps to the process, some which Babs wasn't even sure had effected it at all, but she was willing to write them down anyway. She didn't mind the wracking of her brain, it just took staying focused. A task which was harder than it seemed when she was concentrating on the view her one camera afforded her as well.

Babs was an attentive person, and her eyes kept flicking up to the screen, hoping to see something of note. Perhaps a guard left alive whose frequency she could hack into to contact. A group of the remaining prisoners so that she could get an approximate body count for Bruce. A note of some sort left lying around, and sort of clue.

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There had been no reason to visit his business this afternoon - things were running well enough these days - and it was possible that he'd been taking too much of an interest in it in any event. There was still the playboy facade to maintain, and sometimes playboys laid in bed until 1 in the afternoon.

Idleness, however, was something that Bruce did not understand, and could never truly accomplish. He even thought of idleness in terms of accomplishment, as if it were some grand ideal he should strive towards. Ridiculous.

He was currently glaring at the screen in front of him, the screen that piped in articles of bad news after bad news. Harvey Dent, scarred from Jack Napier's acid attack. (True, it was different from what Bruce Wayne remembered, but enough to make him more than concerned.) Arkham Asylum and the trouble there. The spikes of crime at the docks, nearly constant now. Bruce frowned deeply.

There was a time to be alone in this type of work. And then there was a time for assistance. He picked up his phone.

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OOC: You can always trust a Michael Jackson television special to deliver chock full of cracky and RP inspirational moments.

Max was lying flopped out on her bed when Babs came in. She watched her enter, upside down and let out a very audible groan.

"Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It," Max said very clearly. That had been the whole point of coming up to her room. She didn't want to talk about Jesse or her mood or the trial or anything else Babs could come up with. She felt confused and horrible enough as it was without talking about the damn thing.

It all bothered her. It was something like a weight sitting on her chest that just kept having things piled on top of it. First the trial, then the verdict, then she'd been fine until she and Jesse had had to go and get into this dumb argument. And to top it all off? Babs had come over to deliver the best news ever. Something was wrong at Arkham.

"Maxine, this is ridiculous. You haven't said a word since I got here.."

Shaking her head, Babs moved closer to Max, looking down at the girl. "I know what you're worried about. There's no point in trying to lock it up like this. You live in a house full of detectives... I don't doubt that we all know what you're worried about."

"So can I worry alone please? 'Sides, that's not all of it."

"Want to share the rest?."

"Babs."

"Maxine." Babs' voice was sterner now. "I thought we'd gotten over this? The whole sneaking around and hiding everything phase?"

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After returning from the corner grocery (Matt had gotten lucky this week - the City had planted a grocery down on the corner near his apartment.), Matt did his normal routine of checking for phone messages. His voice mail at the office also forwarded to his apartment telephone. There was a blinking red light on the front of the telephone, but, rather than look for the flash, Matt always listened for the click of the light going on and off.

A message was indeed waiting for him when he got back from the grocer's. Propping his cane up against the wall, bag of vegetables in the other hand, he pressed the button with his free hand before carrying the bag into the kitchen.

"You have TWO new messages."

"Hey, it's Karen. I can't find that case you said you left for me to type up. Give me a call when you get back." Matt shook his head when he heard the first message. Sounded like Karen just wanted someone to chat with on the phone.

""Mr. Murdock? This is Barbara Gordon, from the library. I've just finished watching the news, don't know if you've heard it. It's happened. Violent option number two. I have no doubt that every doctor inside that asylum is dead. …I just thought that you'd like to know."

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"…and traffic on the east side past the commons is backed up all the way to forty-fifth street today for water main construction. For a detour we suggest heading down past Central Avenue and turning onto forty-third from there. We'll keep you updated as the day goes on, but now, over to Lucy for our local news."

"Thanks, Brad! This morning we're looking at two major developing stories. To start us off we focus on Arkham Asylum which I think we have an arial view of from Chopper 6. James, do we have that view?"

"I'm here, Lucy. We're looking at the top of Arkham here where, to the naked eye, nothing's looking amiss."

"No, but according to unconfirmed reports it seems as if the asylum might be facing yet more trouble! It was this last Wednesday when the last people were spotted leaving and entering Arkham Asylum. These included doctors, nurses, officials, and new inmates. Since then the asylum has been, some might say, silent as a tomb. We're being told that phones have been disconnected and the automatic gates have somehow been sealed shut.

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Who: Oracle and Robin
What: Babs welcomes yet a new member of the family to the City
When: After her meeting with Matt

Tim: Robin didn't know where he was. He had an odd sense of familiarity, but then, there were some very familiar sights around. As in a dream, nothing was quite where it should be. The thing is, he had the clarity and sense of self that never came in dreams. He'd been wandering for hours looking over this new place... The only thing he could conclude was that somehow he'd been transported into another dimension, or an alternate reality.

He'd heard of things like this happening before, but he'd taken such stories with a grain of salt. Still stranger things had happened. It was time to attempt contact with someone, something he'd been afraid to do until now. The thought of being in a place entirely alone, knowing no one made him more uneasy then he would have thought.

He reached up and pressed two fingers to his ear. "Oracle, come in. This is Robin." He held his breath as he waited for a response.

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Who: Matt and Babs
What: Matt wants some info on the crazies at Arkham
When: a few days following the trial
Where: Bab's Tower


Matt: Matt had taken a cab following another day at the office. Another day of typing reports and researching another trial. The big one - Napier's trial - may have been officially over, but it wasn't for Matt. He was unsure as to the exact location of Barbara's office, to tell the cabby where to go since the streets had shuffled again, but they finally stopped in front of the tower.

It was raining again, but Matt took his time getting to the door. He had called Ms. Gordon before coming over this time. Checking his watch, he was a little early. Well, in this city, you never knew if you'd be late or early.

Babs: Babs listened for the firm clicking of all the locks on her back office door sliding into place. It wasn't as if she ever left the offices opened and exposed to the public eye, but she believed in never being too careful. Especialy when she was expecting company.

That done, she moved back into her main office, all perninent papers and binders in her lap. Matt hadn't been explicitly clear on what exactly he wanted to speak to her about. Oh, Babs knew that it had something to do with Napier, but Napier himself was such a broad subject. And there were so many other tangents one could go off into when talking about him. Babs tapped her binder on Arkham before setting the lot of them down on her desk.

She turned on her computer, pulling up the the few monitors she could access from this hard drive. The lawyer was early, not that it mattered. It just meant they'd have to wait a few extra minutes for the coffee to be ready. Babs buzzed the door open before going over to make coffee.

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Judge McRiley entered the court room and sat down. The room was eerily silent.

"Bailiff, enter the jury, please."

The group arrived in a single file line and filled in the seats. The judge remained quite for a good five minutes after everybody had settled in. He was gathering his strength for this. There was no telling which way the jury had voted. No way to know what they were thinking right now. And he wouldn't know until he called for his answer.

It had to be done. Putting it off would not make things better.

"Miss Forman, have you come to a decision?" He asked.

"We have, your honor." Said a slight blonde woman.

The judge motioned for the slip of paper. It was brought to him, and he read it. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. He passed the paper back.

"Please read it for the court."

She nodded. "On the count of malicious harassment we find the defendant guilty." She paused and went on. "On the count of assult, we find the defendant guilty. On the multiple counts of murder, we find the defendant guilty."

"Thank you."

"Sir? We have a recommendation."

"Go ahead."

"Given the light of the situation surrounding these crimes, and what we've seen in this court, we have deemed Jack Napier unfit for the public. We see him as severely mentally ill, and would request the court take that in stride with the sentancing."

"Thank you, Miss Forman, you may sit."

The judge, frankly, felt the same way himself. Jack Napier should not, in any case, ever, be allowed to commune with the populus. It wasn't right. There was too much danger in it, and in him.

"I don't think I need any time to think this over. I am ready for ruling now. Please stand, Jack Napier, and hear your fate." He waited for Jack to stand, and was surprised that there wasn't anything wild or scary going on. "Given the decision of the jury, and their recommendation, and given the state of this entire trial, I have to agree with the idea that you are completely mentally unfit. For anything. I cannot in good conscience send you to prison and hope that you get the help that you need. And that society needs for you. So. My ruling is this: Life imprisonment in Arkham Asylum with a strick rehabilitation program. I have no faith that you'll ever actually get help, but, we can hope."

The gavel banged. It was over.

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With the opening statements out of the way, the judge took a deep breath and decided to proceed. He knew it wasn't going to go very well, already it had started going badly. Jack Napier was all too glad to be here, and the amount of people who had showed up were only making it worse.

Sensationalism at it's best.

"We will hear from the witnesses. One at a time, please, and no interruptions from the others in the room. Each lawyer will have their time with the witnesses. Please, let's just try to do this in an orderly way."

McRiley sat back in his chair, tired already. Wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Mr. Dent, your witness."

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It had begun like any other trial. Smoothly. Calmly. The judge entered and the people silenced. The baliff called for everybody to stand, and they did so, respectably. They sat just as silently, just as calmly when the judge called for them to do so. Judge Scott McRiley presiding...

It was just as the judge was settling in that the first mishap occured.

Jack Napier stood up to introduce himself to the court. And to the audience of people attending. He did so with a flourish and a bout of laughter so nerve-wracking that it took Judge McRiley a good ten minutes to quiet everybody down again.

"That is the last we'll have of that, I hope." He stated, looking Jack directly in the eye as he spoke.

Little did the poor judge know that this was only a pre-cursor to the sorts of things that could go on in a trial like this. A trial against Jack Napier. Maybe the only truly insane genius The City had ever seen. The misguided fellow might actually mistake to think he'd be able to control The Joker.

Jack himself spent a good few moments blowing kisses at Harvey Dent while Judge McRiley tried to call for order and the beginning of the trial.

He looked out at the lawyers and nodded. "Prosecution? You may begin."

And then he sat back, ready to hear this fantastic case.

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The morning sun shone in through the bedroom window, and the gunslinger winced at its brightness. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so soundly. It had been a peaceful rest. And even though his body still ached a bit, and his mind still felt the effects of the temporary psychosis, he felt considerably rejuvenated.

He sat up, pistols still tied about his waist -- he'd been too weary the night before to remove them -- and glanced over at the sleeping figure of the boy. Jake. The boy who was. The boy who always had been. Everything made sense to him now. He'd had two histories running through his mind. Two pasts. Two separate tracks that had each happened. Now they finally combined and made sense.

He was whole once more.

Roland slipped out of the bed, stretched his arms up above his head, and paused to peer at his reflection in a mirror above a dresser. Haggard described him well. He was in good need of a shave and a bath. A change of clothes would have suited him too. Or, at least, the washing of the garments he was currently wearing. But there was something even more important than that, and his growling stomach let him know almost immediately. He needed nourishment. And so he wandered the distance of the halls, the twists and turns, until he came upon the kitchen area. Where hopefully that woman, Barbara of Gotham, would be cooking something.

If not, then everyone would be subjected to gunslinger cuisine. And albeit edible and sustaining, not exactly chef's choice.

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This was pretty much the last place Max wanted to be spending her afternoon.

She had work to do at school, a dog to walk, homework to do... hell, even a room to clean. She just didn't want to be here. It didn't matter that the offices were Matt Murdock's and that she at least knew him. It was all good and well when she was fixing his computer, but going in for a deposition was different. Especially on this case.

Max had been serious about what she'd told Jesse on her birthday. Having anything to do with Jack Napier's case made her feel extremely uneasy. If her days were numbered before, they'd been sliced into fifths now. But because he'd attacked her, she was a victim and therefore a witness, and she knew that testifying was the right thing to do. She'd known it before Jesse had told her. She'd known it before Babs had told her that she had to at least meet with the lawyer after he'd called.

The only reason she was here was because Babs was with her and was going to do the same thing. Maybe it mattered a little that she knew the lawyer. There'd at least be some feeling of familiarity. Still, Max was worried about what would happen when Jack escaped.

It was inevitable. No matter what anyone said.

When the secretary led them through to the back conference room Max followed sullenly behind Babs. She wasn't putting on a fake smile or anything like that. She was here to tell the truth after all. So that was what she was going to do.

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Jake wasn't getting any better.

The touch of Delirium had hurt him, badly. The small part of his mind that still seemed capable of rational thought had deduced that, if he was in the state he was currently in back in old New York City, he would have been making baskets in the Sunnyvale Sanitarium by now.

With his mind fractured into two, he had still been able to keep some distinction between the two. They had merged at times, like when he became obsessed with doors a few days ago. Completely obsessed. He'd have to open them two, three, up to seven or eight times in a row before turning aside and almost collapsing from grief when the scenery on the other side refused to be the desert, or the mountains, or even the Oracle's speaking-ring. There was a limited number of doors in Bab's home. Jake knew them all. Every crack, blister, scratch, and scuff.

After he'd died again, in his mind, Jake had locked himself in his room.

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OOC: this is occuring after Babs' encounter with Clark Kent, but before she goes home to find Helena.

Matt had a strange idea occur to him during the day. He had been in the office, working on one of his cases, when he was suddenly unable to keep his mind on his work. He tried to work...but by mid-afternoon, he just could not concentrate any longer.

"Karen, I'm not feeling too well. I'm going to head home." He waved off her offer to call him a cab, opting rather to walk.

Back at his apartment, he had mulled the idea around in his head the entire way back. A woman in a tower. She needed to be saved. He couldn't rest until he had saved her. He didn't know why.

Wasting no time, he pressed a section of the the wall. A door swung open to reveal his hidden room, where all of his Daredevil equipment was stored. (Call it a mini-Batcave, if you will.) He suited up in record time and bolted to the rooftop door. Standing on the roof, high over the City, his senses soared out in search of the woman. Finally, his sense rested on the clocktower to the south. Something drew him to it on his radar. It was some hidden passion that he didn't know he had.

From rooftop to rooftop he soared. Swinging from his cable, twisting and flipping through the air, he approached the tower. His echo sense wasn't picking up any windows in the fascade level with the roof he was standing on. There were people down below on the sidewalk. But he had no other choice.

---

Daredevil continued up the stairs of the tower until he reached a door. Tapping on it with his billy club, he waited a moment before opening it.

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Work had been insane today. Helena hadn't been able to concentrate on anything, as her mind kept returning to someone whom she'd been living with for months now. She'd never considered women, and certainly not her newly adopted mentor/roommate, but suddenly... She wondered how she'd been so blind all these months.

For suddenly, the only thing she could think of was Barbara. Her lips, her hair, her smile. The graceful way she manuevered the wheelchair. The sound of her laughter. The way her brow furrowed when she was hot in pursuit of information for some case or another.

Her body.

And so, Helena had returned home much earlier than usual with only a little stop at a small boutique and the grocery store. She had done a quick sweep of the house to ensure that Jake was nowhere to be seen. They needed the evening alone, after all.

And then she had changed into the little black dress she had picked up and then began cooking a sumptuous meal-pasta and oysters-a natural aprodesiac, of course.

As she waited for Barbara to get home, she placed candles on the table, and a place setting for two only-sorry Jake.

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