Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The years old video brought Batman a perfect excuse. The picture was fuzzy and out of focus but correcting for the noise of magic-enhanced quantum tunnelling, got him most of the way to a clear fight. Image stabilisation to correct for adrenalin caused shaking brought the video to HD. The fight between werewolf? (ask Zatanna for clarification.) and wizard was unmistakable.

Batman was aware of magic and had been since interning with Giovanni Zatara. Though if he was being honest, he’d known since he was a child. No one born in Gotham was unaware of the supernatural for long. Everything in Gotham was designed with superstition, only visitors and extreme sceptics scoffed for long. Sure the roads which twisted into significant shapes were longer, but you wouldn’t crash and traffic ran smoothly. To take the new highways was courting death. Bruce had done the numbers taking the long way made you 500 times less likely to crash. No building that wanted to last the year had a thirteenth floor. There were constant little things, superstitions, and stories he’d assumed were normal as a kid, till he’d left Gotham.

Giovanni Zatara had answered his endless questions, and for those he had no knowledge of he had encouraged Bruce to pursue an answer for himself. As a result Batman was as informed as it was possible for a mundane to be.

Informed enough investigating a wizard and a Werewolf across the country was unlikely to tell him anything he didn’t know. However… However Chicago was the location of one Gentleman Johnny Marcone, the man who had recently been spotted meeting with Red Hood. They were reported to be friendly.

Bruce didn’t make a habit of lying to himself, he was going to Chicago to vet his son’s associates. Yes he was well aware it would be crossing a boundary in his and Jason’s already fragile relationship, but…but his son had been dead. In the ground, buried. Dead.

And now he was back. Even murderous tendances and assassination attempts couldn’t dampen his absolute joy which danced in his heart. The loss of their relationship was nothing next to the grief clawing monster that losing Jason had been, so he was going to be overprotective for a while.

Redhood had been spotted with the Gentleman often enough it was time to see if he was good enough for his son.

 And investigate the Werewolf and Wizard too if he had the time.

However, there was a problem with his plan. Over the years Bruce had learnt to be wary of sending the Billionaire somewhere Batman might be needed in a pinch, it was too coincidental for people to ignore for long. Therefore, Bruce Wayne would go on vacation to France.

He didn’t want to bring Batman to Chicago either though. Batman took getting used to and Chicago wasn’t, which made Batman more problem than he was worth.

There was only one option left to him, Bruce sighed, Matches was his least favourite identity. On the other hand, getting into the Mob should be a breeze.

Batman spent the next few nights making Gotham as safe as possible for Dick who had agreed to cover as Batman and Tim was off as Robin with the titans.

Joining the outfit in Chicago was more difficult than Bruce expected, with his contacts it should have been easy, but Marcone checked his identity down to his social security number and rap sheet. His identity passed muster. But the Mob had dug deep enough an undercover cop’s identity wouldn’t. Thinking he was home free he was surprised when he was required to give an interview. It would have been easier to get a regular job.

A job in Homeland security.

Good, Marcone wouldn’t get Jason killed through negligence. Although Marcone hadn’t run his fingerprints and DNA. Bruce tried to convince himself that was overkill.

During the week, he researched into the Wizard and the loup garu. The Wizard seemed to genuinely want to do good. Consulting with the police for less respect and money than his talents could gain him elsewhere. His White Council file was harder to get a hold of but not impossible.

 Bruce always found higher level practitioners arrogant.

Magic messes with technology why would they have to secure against it? Obviously no mundane could find a way around that. Bruce snorted and checked his cameras in the file room again. Functioning optimally.

Dresden’s history with the white council was messy, but Batman would give him the Benefit of the doubt. After all Batman had no problem breaking the Law to help people, Dresden killing in Self-defence? He barely blinked.

Dark Magic had a half-life in one’s soul, never completely gone but it would be barely noticeable after all these years. Dresden wasn’t going to fall off the wagon. Batman made a note to keep an eye on Dresden as a potential ally in cases that involved magic. He had no contacts with white council level Wizards. Though that might be arrogance again, Zatanna could certainly give them a run for their money, despite only being classed as a minor talent.

She used methods not acknowledged by the council and, as far as Bruce could tell, her magic was more versatile. It’s adaptability and Zatanna’s imagination made up any difference in power.

Finally, Marcone called to meet Bruce. Batman was ready to be done with Chicago, he was itching to get back to Gotham.                        

Chapter Text

We don’t get many transfers from Gotham and the timing of this one was suspicious. My and Redhood’s allegiance’s ink was still drying.

I had been hesitant to create the allegiance when Red Hood had reached out. First any agreement which involved Gotham required more caution than elsewhere, Gotham was unpredictable at the best of times. Second there were rumours about Red Hood’s use of Guns and unnecessarily dramatic decapitation.

 But curious about the offer I had done more research. I’d found that the dead were those that targeted children or took advantage of the vulnerable. After discovering this I had been willing to deal. So far our partnership was fruitful, the man was a fount of information on both the supernatural and tactics. Considering my best estimate to his age, impressive.

Perhaps ‘matches’ Malone was one of his. A man who was waiting for the all clear to move cities, but if that was the case I would have expected a call at least.

So, I contacted him.

“That overprotective, helicopter of a flying rat bastard,” Redhood said.

“I take it you know him?”

“Yes,” there were several more unintelligible grumbles from down the line.

“And what do you suggest I do about him?” The grumbles sounded fond, like I’d grumble about Hendricks, so I doubted he wanted him dead.

“Meh, he’s not a danger to you and yours, I doubt he’d even involve law enforcement with me involved. My recommendation is to freeze him out unless you want an overprotective shovel talk?”

“Shovel talk, isn’t he a bit…old for you?” I wasn’t above shooting paedophiles.

Redhood near choked on laughter, “Shovel talk? Usually delivered by parental units, not exes.”

“isn’t he—”

“A bit young for that? Yeah, not bio and beggars can’t be choosers.”

Ahh Hood was an orphan and Matches had taken him in.

“Listen, feel free to freak the old man, but…”

“He will come to no harm from me unless he means me and mine harm,” I said. I’d fault no parent for being overprotective of a child who consorted with mobsters.

“Thank you, though if you want to rough him up? Be my guest.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, “Please tell me Matches isn’t his actual name?”

Redhood once again laughed free and genuine, “If you want his real name you’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

He hung up, was it me or did that sound like a challenge?

I made the call to set up the meeting.

Matches wore a pinstriped suit to the meeting, mirrored glasses the same shade as his grey hair. But what drew your attention was his mouth, not only was there a distracting moustache, and he insisted on having a match chewed between his teeth.

He saw me looking and quickly ditched it in the bin, “Sorry Mr Marcone, I’ve been trying to quit smoking, it helps with the cravings.”

“It might help more if it wasn’t a match.” I held out my hand.

He took it, hands calloused. He was used to working. He threw back his head and laughed, “that it might, but I’ve been called Matches for longer than what my momma called me, gotta keep the name somehow.”

“Given how hard it was to find your real name ‘Michael’, I don’t think you’d have a problem.”

Matches Malone gave a full body shiver, “Even my Mama didn’t sink low enough to use that name, Michael’s for cops and lawyers.”

“Fair enough Mr. Malone, so why are you moving to Chicago?”

Malone levelled him a flat look, “It’s Gotham, once I heard there was an outfit that fit my morals and was passingly friendly, I was out of that crazy place.”

“Morals?”

“I’m an arsonist and a thief, Mr Marcone, but I don’t do Murder or kids. Which may as well be a chronic medical condition for all it effects employment opportunities in this line of work.”

I snorted, at least this Matches had a sense of humour. “That it might, but Gotham has gained Redhood.”

“Yeah, but till recently he’s been big on the murder, and it doesn’t solve the fundamental issue of Gotham being crazy town.”

“In interests of full disclosure Chicago isn’t much better.”

Matches snorted.

“I was attacked by a Loup Garu and FBI Hexen-wolves.” I said watching for a reaction. Redhood was clued into the supernatural was Matches?

“I got caught up, in scarecrow’s fear toxin last week.” Matches said, “Chicago keeps your crazy down to annually, which I appreciate. And I doubt I’ll wake up to my worst nightmare or be required to invest in a gas mask.”

“Fear toxin? I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“Invention of Crazy Dr Crane. Don’t have a clue how it works so don’t ask. But it trots out your worst nightmares. You’ll either off yourself trying to get away, your heart gives out, or you’re left with nightmares you can’t shake for weeks.”

“I can’t help but notice you didn’t say anything about the werewolves?”

Matches shrugged, “Gotham.” Like it explained everything, perhaps it did, for one of the largest cities in America, not to mention the world, Gotham was remarkably insulated. Only rumours came from the city and most of them were so crazy, I had a hard time believing it despite the aforementioned werewolves.

“I do believe I’d be interested in you working for me after a trial run.” From what Redhood had told me I doubted he’d stick around much longer.

“No kids? No Murder?”

“None, the opposite if I can help it.”

Matches raised a brow behind his glasses.

“There is an artifact I want liberated; it is meant to heal.”

“You have someone you want healed, and you’re desperate enough to go for rumours of the supernatural,” Matches said.

Smart too, yes keeping Matches around for this job was a good idea, though I’d keep him out of the strictly illegal activities.

I hummed in conformation, “for security reasons you can’t know more.” I said, “However, the people I have hired are due to arrive in town in three days, your job would be to tail them and make sure they get to the auction in one piece.”

“You don’t want me to take it from them?” Matches said.

“I have no desire to be known as a man who robs those who take contracts with him. However, if the object is in danger, please acquire it. If the rumours are true, I doubt anyone wants it to end up in less friendly hands than my own.”

“The object?” Matches said. “The thieves?”

I shook my head, “Consider this a test of your ingenuity.”

Chapter Text

The worst part of the interview was that Bruce liked Marcone. Had he been scum he would have felt no compunctions removing him from power and Redhood’s life. As it was? It appeared he was going to have to approve.

The competence was the main new reason for approval, leaving kids alone was common knowledge, but it was good to know it wasn’t a front. Marcone had given enough information to do the job. But had he been wearing a wire? He’d have nothing.

 If a regular wire would have survived in the room, he had noticed the subtle runes engraved around the place, and a device on his person had clocked a 3000% increase in unusual particle physics, had his tech not been warded he’d be walking around with expensive bricks.

But even with his measures Marcone had not fallen to arrogance and still guarded his words. Had he been here as Batman he would have had a difficult time getting anything to stick in a court of law, not to mention did he want to? Sure, in a perfect world men like Marcone, and Bruce himself would be unnecessary but the world was not perfect, far from it.

Marcone made sure none of his drugs were cut, that children weren’t targeted. There were rumours that Perdu Pharma reps were run out of town. Ensuring the OxyContin disaster that was waiting to happen everywhere else wouldn’t happen in Chicago (and Gotham). Also, unlike many others he kept his side of the bargain of protection rackets religiously. Police, Faries, thugs or other, step onto his territory with the intent to harm at your own risk.

The system didn’t work for everyone, Police had biases. When he had started out Batman had believed that getting rid of the few bad apples in the police department and the legal system would be enough. But…more and more he found the systematic injustices which as a white man of privilege he was not primed to see. The poverty traps that even with all his money Bruce was helpless to change alone, and Batman was even worse off. Punching people into medical debt, or opioid addiction was hardly useful.

Ironically enough with Bruce out of the running and Batman helpless, it was Brucie Wayne that had the most impact. His public persona, naive and trusting, who had a big heart. Taking in orphans and urging others to be kind. Coming up with ridiculous projects which might work but were more likely money sinks. Money which would sink into poorer neighbourhoods.

For all Batman had been founded by the philosophy of being tough on crime, Brucie Wayne’s strategy of the complete opposite, forgiveness, kindness and understanding seemed to work far better.

Batman remained the stick, but he was more flexible than he was when he was twenty and angry. Either way Marcone and Redhood, now he was sane, were evils he’d tolerate. Or perhaps corrupted good he could live with.

Finding the stolen object was easy. The shroud of Turin being stolen wasn’t small news in Bruce’s supernatural contacts’ circles. Batman had the entire history of the shroud in minutes, a list of potential thieves in hours.

Find the dock in which they were meant to birth? Easy. Setting up a stakeout? piece of cake. Fighting off the creatures who wanted to steel the shroud? horrifically difficult. Particularly since Bruce was supposed to have Matches’ fighting ability. He managed to prevent any deaths and let Anna Valmont get away with the shroud. At least Marcone would have the chance to buy it back. Right now, he needed information on those creatures and Dresden seemed like a good source.

He hauled the Wizard back to his car he’d rented for the stakeout.

“What were those creatures?”

“Those was knights of the Blackened denarians, who are you?”

“Matches,”

“uh ha and your real name?”

“you think I’m giving my real name to a wizard? Or a stranger, especially a stranger?”

“Fine what are you doing here?” Dresden said looking around my car. It wasn’t obvious it was being used for a stake out, but it wasn’t hidden either. Dresden with an active PI licence would recognise it.

“Stake out, I thought it was Chicago’s version of hazing the newbie, apparently not.”

“Mob or police?”

“isn’t it disturbing how close those two can be?” Matches mused. “I’m freelancing at the moment as ahh, let’s say protection for those two lovely ladies.”

“Marcone’s guy then.” Dresden concluded.

Matches shrugged, “Don’t think he’s decided yet.”

“Do you know who he is? what he does?”

Matches nodded, “he scares pharma reps pushing OxyContin out of town, and stops the police from enforcing their authority unequally on black neighbourhoods.”

Dresden choked, “I’ve never heard it said like that.”

Matches chewed on his match and shrugged, “Up till recently if you wanted to survive Gotham’s Cops you had to get an alternative view of law enforcement, fast. Marcone’s territory is still better than some precincts districts.”  

“So what? You’re joining the police?”

Matches smirked, “Stakeouts plus protection detail, seems policeey enough for me.”

Dresden was silent for a minute than said, “hey, I need to get my car,”

“Sure I’ll drop you back when I get all the information on the Blackened denarians you have. I don’t want to fight with those nasties again without all the information I can get.”

Dresden sighed, “I suppose so, not that I know a whole lot. Blackened denarians, are fallen angels that possess the coins Judas got for betraying Jesus.”

“Well damn, best get back to church.” Matches said.

“If you want, and if you find yourself in a bad situation with them objects of faith are probably your best bet. But praying for backup isn’t the worst move, Blackened Denarians are opposed by the knights of the Cross, individuals with the duty and the power to fight the Denarians and have a habit of turning up when you need them.”

“hmmm, right anyway to protect yourself from them?” Bruce asked.

“not really,” Dresden said, “but never pick up one of their coins you’ll be a meat puppet soon enough.”

“I thought nothing of Heaven was allowed to counter free will?”

Dresden looked at Bruce eyebrow raised, Bruce kicked himself the heaven thing was not common knowledge. “they aren’t. Not directly at least, but having a live in companion? Something dedicated to making you change your mind, with the power to make you see anything they want? Free will is pretty much a moot point.”

Bruce pulled up next to a battered beetle that might have once been blue.

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to tell me what Marcone wants with the Shroud, and how I can convince him to let it be returned?”

Matches snorted, “honey he don’t trust me that much, but…he ain’t gonna give up. This is a hail Mary.” The Shroud of Turin was a desperate move, it had only ever been rumoured to heal the sick, there were plenty of more accessible options for someone of Marcone’s resources and knowledge. Which told him whatever he wanted the shroud for was desperate, and a last option.

“what’s it going to take to give up on whatever greedy plan this is?” the words were muttered, and Bruce doubted he was meant to hear them.

He snorted again, “it ain’t greed that’s motivating him, else he’d cut his losses now. It’s something much, much worse than greed.”

“What’s that?”

“Desperation,” Matches shrugged, “Love, guilt? Hell if I know, but he ain’t stopping and that’s bad for business. Therefore, it ain’t business.” Bruce was well aware of how far a parent would go for a child, even one they weren’t related to.

Dresden blinked, “almost everything is business for him.

“almost,” Matches agreed.

Chapter Text

Matches was weird, he had a turn of phrase and a way of thinking about things that got me thinking. And that was dangerous, or it had been under the Doom, now? Under the doom I had to toe the company line even thinking rebellious thoughts was dangerous.  Or perhaps I wanted to be considered good so badly I’d refused a more nuanced view. That strict view of Cops being in the right was founded with my father and enforced under the Doom and signed and sealed working for SI and a good department like the one Murphy ran.

But not every department was Murphy’s, some departments saw black kids as the enemies rather than those to protect from the slavering Ghouls. There is nothing like horrors in the night to make the minor differences between humans look small.

But that was no reason not to try, sure Marcone could be worse, but he could also be a whole heck of a lot better. Simply because the world wasn’t perfect didn’t mean we couldn’t aim for it. And Marcone answered to no one. There was no court of law that would hold him to account, but even so it might be better to come up with precise examples of why he pissed me off than just a general criminal scumbagness.

Which brought me back to my current problem, how to get the shroud and make sure no one got hurt. They’d have to sell it I simply had to find out where. Perhaps I should approach Marcone directly? Or was he scheduled for some event in the next few days?

Had Matches not spoken to me I’d have probably gone with stalking him and party crashing. But Marcone was reasonable, small differences in the face of horrors of the night and all.

Him knowing I was going to be there and was primarily interested in stopping the fallen angels, could prevent spontaneous magical combustion inclined to take out innocent bystanders, and we’d work something out for the shroud.

 I returned to my office and promptly remembered I didn’t have Marcone’s number, but Susan might, I made the call, to my relief she did, and she knew about the ‘art sale’ that was going on tonight. She had tickets, but I left them as a backup plan and called Marcone.

A pretty voice answered.

“Mr Marcone’s office how may I direct your call?”

Well, I was calling Marcone’s office, perhaps Hendricks was in? I sighed and said, “I was wanting to talk to Marcone.”

“About what, he’s a very busy man he has no time for prank calls.”

“About an item that is to be sold at tonight’s gala, tell him it’s Dresden.”

“Certainly sir, if you could hold a moment.”

I had long enough to wonder if all hold music was that terrible, or whether it was my Wizardly aura before Marcone picked up.

“Mr Dresden, I heard you were down at the docks.”

“Yeah,” I said, “listen there are some real nasty things after the shroud.”

“So I should return it?”

“I wouldn’t object, but I doubt you will. Either way if I can figure out it will be sold at tonight’s Gala they can too.

“Are you warning me to get better security?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“No, I’m telling you I’m attending tonight and why.” I said, “so don’t try to throw me out.”

“I’m surprised your not trying to blackmail me into returning the shroud,” Marcone said.

“Oh its on the agenda, but I figure it can wait until after the horrific monsters have gone away,” I said.

“That is surprisingly reasonable of you Mr Dresden.”

“The thug you had watching the boat was surprisingly philosophical.”

“Mr Malone found what item and who had stolen it in time then?”

I threw back my head and laughed, “his name is Matches Malone? Seriously?”

Marcone hummed, “I believe it to be an alias. But as to his real identity, I have good character recommendations but not much else.”

Well, look at that something Gentleman Johnny Marcone didn’t know. “So, what do you want with the shroud?”

Marcone’s voice was tense, “I thought we had agreed to leave that till after the monsters had been dealt with?”

“We have,” I said, “I have, but knowing why you’re doing this? I suppose it might help me sleep at night to know it wasn’t about the money.”

John sighed, “It’s not about the money,” he said and hung up.

I believed him, Johnny was shameless bastard had it been about the money he would have said so.

Chapter Text

Matches was announced moments after I hung up with Dresden. I wondered what Matches had said to get the Wizard to cooperate with me so well? And could he do it again?

Privately I was impressed, based on the intel I had given Malone I had expected him to be miles behind. Matches had information networks and impressive ones.

“Mr Marcone,” Matches drawled, once again chewing on a match.

“Trouble at the docks?”

“I see the Wizard already called.”

“yes, Valmont got away with the shroud, no casualties.”

Matches shrugged, “unless you count the boat?”

“Impressive work,” I said. What to do now? This man didn’t want to work for me and given his loyalties to Redhood I didn’t want him to either. On the other hand, he was useful and given my position I could use useful.

Screw it I took my que from Dresden and decided to be honest, “Mr Malone, which I sincerely doubt is your name.” I scanned his face. Despite being called on his bluff he didn’t blink. Better than most undercover cops I’d found. “You are here to check I’m good enough for your son, what have you determined?”

He scanned my face, “you called Redhood,” It was a statement not a question.

But I nodded anyway.

“That your cautious, you find as much information as possible before acting. And despite this job tending to make Monsters, you are resisting admirably. You are not an active threat to me and mine.”

Marcone nodded, “will you help me deal with this threat and sav…” I snapped my jaw shut. I couldn’t give more information out about Amanda.

“Save your child?” Matches finished, he had guessed anyway, “yes but if you betray Redhood, remember that you are crossing me too.”

Up until then Matches had kept up his performance and personality. But as he started the threat he became perfectly still. Matches accent dropped as did his voice until it was near a growl. I’d stared down the worst Mobsters had to offer and not blinked in the face of a Loup Garu and yet I was certain that if I crossed this man I was as good as dead.

I nodded, “I’ll keep it in mind, what do you know about Valmont’s attackers?”

Dresden and Ms Rodriguez true to word showed up at the party, I was tempted to snarl and snap him away from the potential cure for Amanda. But that wouldn’t help anything, I nodded at him briefly as I continued to survey the room, Hendricks stayed with me, Gard worked a yard or two out and Matches worked the room, still it came as a surprise when the fallen attacked. Given the shear force they brought to bear it couldn’t have been anything but.

In the end Ms. Gard secured two of theirs and they got two of ours along with the shroud. Neither Dresden or Matches were really mine, but they had been taken fighting for me, I’d get them and the shroud back.

Chapter Text

Being kidnapped by fallen angels was not my idea of a good time, torture even less so. I was uncertain whether to be grateful that Matches was with me. On one hand it was nice not to be alone, on the other hand I was uncertain listening to someone else’s pain wasn’t worse than dealing with my own.

“Bastards! leave him alone.” I shouted.

“umm, and why do you care? This man belongs to the shadows, the criminals who prey on the weak,” Nicodemus said.

“If that was true you wouldn’t be hurting him.”

The smile cracked across Nicodemus’s face, “you know how to make his pain stop, all you must do is take up a coin.”

“Coin? Sounds nifty, can I have one?” Matches asked.

“Don’t, they’ll take you over,” I said.

“I know,” Matches said, “you told me, I planned on destroying it.”

Nicodemus laughed; you know what’s worse than a creepy laugh on a villain? a good natured one. “No force on earth is capable of destroying a coin.”

“Sounds like a Macbeth kind of answer,” Matches said.

Huh, I hadn’t thought about that. In Macbeth he was prophesied not to be killable by man born of Woman. Macbeth didn’t account for C-sections. Shakespeare for Woman, queer gendered or the nonhuman horrors of the night.

Did no force on earth count volcanos?

“Perhaps we should make like Frodo?” I asked, watching Nicodemus for a reaction.

“Does the NeverNever count?” Matches asked.

I startled, “you know about the NeverNever?” He shot me a dark glare. Oh right, no interrogating your friends in the presence of enemies. “No idea. But I’m open to checking,” I said.

“If worse comes to worst, it can’t be too expensive to launch them into the sun,” Matches said.

I looked at him incredulously I was pretty sure it was ridiculously expensive to get something into space.

“So can I have a coin?” Matches asked.

“If you think you can overcome the temptation of a fallen angel long enough to enact your plans, be my guest.”

Damn that was a pretty big flaw gotta say. Regardless Matches was nodding.

“Wait no don’t,” But I was too late.

Nicodemus threw me a smile, picked up a coin holding it out to Matches bound hands. Matches raised an eyebrow and took the coin. Even though I knew the seduction of those coins was slow. I was still expecting something dramatic, a flash of light, coldness in the air, something.

Matches smiled and flicked his wrist. A metallic object flew across the room and landed smack bang in one of Nicodemus’s eyes.

To my shock he screamed, and it wasn’t in rage. Nicodemus has a noose that made him invulnerable to pretty much everything, no one knew how to get past it. So something as small as a coin to the eye no matter how expertly thrown shouldn’t do jack shit.

Not to mention every piece of lore out there said the coins weren’t easy to give up. as a stared jaw hanging, Matches focused on the cuffs twisting and pulling till he was loose. He rushed to the pile of coins in the room. He pulled a hanky from his sleave and scooped them up. The hanky had come out of the same sleave he had accepted the coin with, there was a silver dollar already present. But…I looked at the writhing Nicodemus, who was recovering. Sure enough what I had thought was a coin was a small knife, coated in arcane symbols and dripping with clear liquid. Despite the throw seeming to hurt there was no blood, and Nicodemus was looking better than before, Damn it.

Matches having secured the coins made his way over to me. Teeth rattling booms came from the entrance to the room. Matches must have secured the heavy doors while I was watching Nicodemus.

“No, go! get the coins out of here and throw them into the sun or something.” He wouldn’t have time to get me free of the restraints before Nicodemus recovered.

“If you haven’t noticed, there are at least five fallen between me and an exit, you maybe, me? Not a chance.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, I’ve seen you fight,” I said.

He grunted and pulled the thorned manacles free.

I had half a moment to panic as I saw Nicodemus’s fist headed towards the back of Matches head. But somehow he ducked. I having seen it coming was still barely able to avoid the hit. Matches spun, bringing his fists up and into Nicodemus’s stomach.  On a regular human being it would have broken a rib or two, on Nicodemus nothing. But it did give Matches long enough to roll to the knife he’d used before.

 A knife which caused Nicodemus to hesitate. I supposed after so long of being unhurt by anything, a paring knife sized blade which could get past his defenses was more terrifying. Matches nodded to a white parcel wrapped on the table, the coins.

“Go,” He growled.

“What about you?” I said unwilling to leave the man alone.

“I’m taking one, you’re taking five, worry about yourself.”

He had a point, the door was barely holding itself together, five verses me? I was screwed.

Once it was clear there was no structural integratory left in the doors I used them as kindling, summoning wind to blow the flaming splinters toward the attackers.

Taking a moment I glanced back to Matches to see how the regular human was doing against the immortal, invulnerable, strength of a fallen angel, man. To my eternal surprise and joy the answer was fine. Oh he wasn’t winning but he was successfully keeping him occupied. I focused back on my task. I couldn’t fight five of the fallen alone, a vail perhaps? I could sneak past in the smoke. I was terrible at vails and subtilty, but it was going to have to do. I’d sneak past them and lead them on a merry chase giving Matches a chance. Plan formed, I called my will, imagining myself as formless smoke. I spoke the spell and crept forward, keeping well out of the way of the fallen.

I got to the other side of the room, out the door and down the hallway. I blinked, both to get rid of the stinging caused by the smoke and in shear disbelief it had worked. Regardless I didn’t Have time, I called my secret weapon.

“What can Toot-toot do for the Za Lord?”

I handed the coins to him “can you and the rest get these to Michael Carpenter, along with the message that Matches and I are being held in undertown? I’ll get everyone who helps pizza,” I said.

Toot-toot was nodding calling in the guard to take the wrapped coins out before he took them from me I said, “And Toot, make sure only Michael sees the coins and that no one touches them.” I heard crashing down the hall and turned to run again.

Chapter Text

The second Dresden was clear Batman let loose, dropping even the half-hearted pretense of mobster. Fighting a Denarian was hard, ‘Bane on venom’, backbreakingly hard. Fortunately, with Dresden gone there was no more collateral to be hurt and it became a game of buying time. There had to be a way to harm him.

His knife wouldn’t work anywhere but a direct hit to his eyes, salt in the devil’s eyes was more than a superstition. But Nicodemus wasn’t going to let that happen again. Whatever was protecting him from damage had to be magic. He cast back to his lessons from Giovanni, Magic cost as much as physics did. Magic did things poetically and it paid in the same currency, what would be the ironic cost of immunity?

It slowly killing you?

That would be ironic, but Nicodemus had been alive for long enough it should have taken effect.

But it must be in the same vein.

What was keeping him alive could kill him? It was as good a theory as any, with the next attack Batman lunged for the fashion piece that did not fit. Grabbing the noose he tightened it. In seconds he knew he’d deduced correctly. Nicodemus startled choking.

He didn’t have time to stay here though, the rest of the fallen would be back soon and choking someone out took a surprisingly long time. Instead, he stabbed Nicodemus in both eyes. The pain caused by a knife drenched in salt water prevented him from fighting back and he tied the noose in a knot.

It was disturbing how often he had to thank Brucie Wayne for his forays into kinky sex clubs. It was there where he had learnt predicament bondage. If Nicodemus tried to move he’d choke himself. Batman placed his knife back in its holster and scanned the room quickly for the shroud, not seeing it he pulled out his rebreather and plunged into the smoke of the adjoining room. It was too dangerous to risk looking for the shroud, so he moved on, relying on stealth rather than muscle. Batman had good stamina but fighting tired even him, and fighting an enraged angel? That was exhausting.

The hardest part of stealth was patience as much as he wished to hurry, get away from the fallen, speed was his enemy. His steps had to be measured, a trip or a sound could bring his death. Batman slipped silently shadow to shadow, regaining his breath for if speed was once again necessary.

Confident he was some distance away he checked his GPS, it crackled and fizzed, and a pop-up message emerged, “suggestion Gotham Mode.” Batman furrowed his brow but clicked yes. The image stabilised, and, though he had no maps of this place, he knew his general direction had to be up, left and out.

Out being the most important direction, intent mattered a lot on Gotham’s streets. And if this placed messed with GPS the same way that Gotham and her labyrinth streets did, then it was a fair bet it was true of here too.

What was this place? Batman had never come across a location like Gotham’s unique geography, knowing what was going on here might let him fix whatever was happening to his city.  

He found a route out within minutes, the second his phone had signal he called Marcone for back up. Dresden and the tracker he had placed on his person was down there, as was the shroud. Batman wasn’t certain what fallen angels could do with it, but he’d wager it was nothing pretty.

Chapter Text

Arriving at my offices was bitter. Both Dresden and Matches were with the fallen as was the last hope of Amanda waking up. On the other hand, I was alive. I shut the door turning back I found three people standing in the room. I would have sworn there was nothing there a second ago.

I raised my hand to prevent Hendricks and Ms Gard from shooting.

I recognised one, “Redhood, not that it isn’t lovely to see you but—”

“What are we doing in your city?”

I nodded and gestured at Hendricks to put his gun away. Given he had met Redhood and knew we were friendly he obeyed orders.

I eyed the strangers, one was wearing a skin-tight black suit, with a blue shape spread over the centre, the third had mechanical wings and an R in a circle on his chest, Nightwing and Robin based on my intel of Gotham, they were the local vigilante elements.

I glanced at the red bat on Red Hoods chest, I had thought it a taunt to the notorious Batman, but what if it was a teenage taunt to a father?

“I see,” Matches was Batman. “I thought Batman would have the sense to keep children off the street?”

The youngest grumbled about how he was not a kid. Redhood laughed and Nightwing joined him.

“Oh he tried,” Nightwing chuckled.

Though I could see nothing Redhood sounded like he was smiling, “So hard, ironically it was when he tried to ban me from the streets I snuck off and got killed.”

I raised an Eyebrow at that. But looked to the youngest maybe sixteen, “hey I was sneaking out and trying to fight crime long before I had armour or back up.

I nodded. I wasn’t okay with the situation, but wasn’t going to condemn Batman.

“How did you get here so fast?”

Redhood snorted and held out a hand to Nightwing, “payup dickybird, I told you he’d get kidnapped.”

“Firstly, we don’t know he got kidnapped yet,” I winced, Nightwing saw my reaction and mirrored it, “okay maybe we do, but second I never took that bet, I’m not that stupid.”

“If you don’t mind my saying you don’t look that concerned?” I said.

Robin snorted, “we also have bets riding on whether he gets himself out or if we need to rescue him, though there is actually some disagreement on that bet.”

I raised my eyebrow.

“Who bet on which?” Ms Gard asked.

“I bet we gotta go rescue the old man.” Redhood said.

“Na, he’ll get himself out,” Nightwing said.

“He’ll get himself out call for insufficient backup and get himself back in.” Robin said. “Which is why we called in magical backup.”

“He does have magical training, I had wondered.” Gard said.

“about as much as it is possible for a vanilla mortal to have,” Nightwing confirmed

Robin coughed, “That and a large percentage of Gotham’s superstitions are routed in magic.”

Nightwing raised a brow behind the mask and said, “really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t till B started teaching me the magical basics that I started to think Gotham might not be crazy town.” Redhood added.

“As fascinating as this is, perhaps we should work on locating your father?” I was curious to see what magic superstitions Gotham had, but it could wait.

“We tried his trackers; they have either been removed or blocked somehow.” Robin said pulling up a translucent screen.

“He’s been around magic; any tech has likely fried.”

All three looked at me like I was an idiot, “We ward for that,” Robin said.

“There are wards for that?” Ms Gard asked.

“Sort of? It’s complicated, but the right repeating line of code, and a coil of copper wire can stop most of the problems. And the rest of Magic’s effects on particle physics can be compensated for.” Robin said.

“also one of the strongest thresholds is the human body, the external ones might be fried, but the internal? There are reasons pacemakers don’t explode when a practitioner walks past.” Nightwing added.

“Either way Magic is not the cause,” Redhood said.

“Or,” Robin said, “Maybe it is.”

“We ward against it Replacement.” Redhood said.

Even through the mask I saw Robin’s flinch. Redhood winced, “Sorry, go on.”

“We ward against magic, but that only ensures the tech is still working.”

“Okay I take my apology back,” Redhood said. Nightwing elbowed his side.

“No don’t you see magic can fool your tech, or it can fool reality. We can’t find him because he is in a place that doesn’t exist.”

“Okay I’m apologising to you little Wing, that really doesn’t make sense sorry Baby Bird,” Nightwing said.

“No, no that makes sense,” Redhood said.

It did?

“There are places in Gotham which shouldn’t exist. Places that all laws of geometry and physics say can’t exist and yet?”

“Like that road that turns up, and takes you halfway across the City, but only if you’re desperate for a bathroom?” Nightwing said.

“Exactly, wait what road?” Redhood asked.

“Point is there are places in any city that shouldn’t exist, but that many people living together? People believing in something collectively together has power.” Robin said, “Whether it is faith in a God or a monetary system. Believing something collectively can turn worthless bits of paper into $100 bills. That’s magic, so if people start collectively agreeing that a street exists? Space bends till it does. Gotham is worse than most, it’s been massively superstitious since Pagans founded it to get away from the Puritans—” Robin said.

“And I’m pretty sure the City planners have all been witches since founding—” Redhood interrupted.

“Either way,” Robin glared at Redhood “Gotham maybe worse but I’d wager with the lay lines through Chicago you have some places that don’t exist.”

“Places like undertown?” Ms Gard said.

I had heard the rumours of course, that Chicago was slowly sinking into the swamp, and we kept building layers on top. Which was easy enough to verify, but that it was still accessible, and monsters lived down there? I hadn’t known that. But it was a common enough superstition which I supposed was enough to mean it was true if Robin was right.

“Sounds plausible, Right Mr Hen—”

A number of beeps sounded from all three of them and Robin whipped out the screen again. “And Batman is back on the grid based on positioning he’s in a maintenance shaft off Hamilton.” The blinking X vanished, and he’s gone again.”

“But we have a place to start?” Hendricks asked.

Redhood was nodding but both Nightwing and Robin were shaking their heads, Hood switched to a shake.

“Its space that’s not space, he might walk ten steps there and end up on the other side of the city, if he hasn’t made contact by morning we’ll consider it, Nightwing said.

“So, until then?” I asked.

“We wait,” Ms Gard answered, “their magical backup is getting into town. And we need as much as we can get. We rest and prepare.”

Nightwing nodded, “Mind if we hang here?”

“I insist, there is a bedroom behind that door, there are some extra mattresses in the closet,” I said. The closer they were the sooner we could get moving the second they found anything out.

The sun was peaking above the horizon when I woke to a soft knock. Robin peeked in the door fully kitted, “Batman came back online, and he seems to have stabilised that way.”

I nodded and rolled off the bed, awake with adrenaline of an impending fight.

We were headed to the cars when My phone rang.

“Marcone,” the voice was the commanding growl it had been for that second that Batman had dropped the mask in my office.

“Batman,” I said.

“Hmm, I’m at the corner of Fairview and 63^rd street, I’ve left Dresden behind I’d appreciate backup.”

“already on our way, your backup found me.”

A heavy put-upon sigh came through the phone, “I don’t suppose they’d agree to stay behind?”

I chuckled, “I don’t think so, but they have invited your magical back up, only a Zatanna Zatara was available at short notice. Redhood should be meeting us there with Her.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“we’ll be there in ten.”

There were six people milling around when we got there. One was a hulking black shape with a bat outlined in yellow, Batman I assumed. Redhood was next to him waving his arms.

One was a tall man, I recognised from my reports on Dresden’s associates, Michael Carpenter. Another, had I been slightly more Dresdenish, I would have offered a coat. She seemed to be wearing a stage magicians outfit complete with bowtie and fishnets and plastic wand.

The next was a tall black man with an easy smile and a sword holstered, Sanya another knight of the cross. I assumed the last was Shiro the third knight.

I gave a slight nod an strode forward, “is this us?”

“Da, so who is ready to fight some fallen angels?” Sanya said. A growl of an engine cut off as a work truck pulled up, a large man wearing an overcoat with dark hair and a streak of white got out carrying a broad sword.

The woman in fishnet stockings stepped forward, “Jason Blood, I didn’t think you would make it.

“Nor did I but convenances aligned.”

Blood looked around but his eyes alighted on Mr Carpenters sword. He paled as if it was a ghost.

Carpenter coughed gently.

“My apologies, it has been many years since I last fought alongside Excalibur, it’s a reminder of different times.”

Excalibur! I struggled to keep my face straight. Was anyone else standing here with kings, Wizards and saints and feeling like a fraud?

I looked to the man in a black cape, he was human, nothing more than a human father trying to protect his city and his kids. Yeah, if he was holding it together so could I.

There were a few more minutes of introduction and squabbling before Batman’s low rumble enhanced by some form of vocal distortion growled out.

“Okay, this is how it’s going to work.”

“Zatanna, Etrigan, Ms Gard, you’re our magic users. Each of you get a team, One knight of the cross each.  Michael stepped up to Zatanna, and Shiro stood next to Ms Gard.

Sanya raised his hand, “who is Etrigan?”

Blood coughed, “It will be me once I transform.”

Sanya smiled, “I guess I’m with you then.”

Robin we’ll go with Zatanna, Nightwing with Blood, and Redhood with Ms Gard.”

“Sure Old man.” Red hood jumped up and joined the group that was gathering around me by virtue of standing next to the Valkyrie.

“We have Dresden’s location, and communication that will stand up, so we’ll coordinate.

“Marcone, Hendricks you’re with Gard and Redhood. If things are going poorly pull back and call for more backup.”

“Nightwing, Blood, Sanya your group has point get Dresden and get out. Zatanna, Carpenter, Robin and I will take the rear and make sure we aren’t followed. Redhood, get the shroud.”

Batman nodded at our team. “We don’t have a huge amount of intel on the fallen angels, but don’t touch their coins, and their leader Nicodemus Archelon, appears to be invulnerable, and he is. Except for the noose around his neck that makes him so.”

With that Nightwing along with Blood and Sanya huddled in a group. Blood stood back from the group and started chanting.

“Gone, gone,

the form of man,

arise the Demon Etrigan.”

In a swirl of fire, the man vanished and what could only be described as a brimstone smelling demon with a flaming sword took his place.

“To save the man,

We will venture forth,

Tell me what is the plan?

What is our course?”

Chapter Text

 Shortly after Toot had left, I’d been caught by Deirdre screaming about how I’d pay for what I’d done to her father.

“Listen last time I saw your father he was doing just fine, unless you count smoke inhalation in which case the fallen can fix it.” What had Matches done?

I hoped he was alright, anyone who could make a man like Nicodemus hurt was good in my books. It had been less than ten minutes since I’d last saw him, but considering I’d left him fighting one of the worst of the fallen, I’d be lucky if I hadn’t left him to die.

I was dragged back into the room, now free of smoke and fire and a door, but more noticeably Matches was gone.

Nicodemus came towards me rage in his eyes, around his throat was a red line that had come from his noose. Oh the noose protects against everything but itself. To my amusement there was also a faint red line around his wrists, had Matches bound his hands with the noose too? No wonder Deirdre was upset.

“Mr Dresden it appears that we have lost the coin we were going to offer you.”

“My heart bleeds.”

“Don’t your pain will be useful all the same.” Well that sounded fantastic.

“Always happy to be of help. Could you tell me what would be the greatest help, so I could not do that?”

Nicodemus took a swing. My hands were once again bound in the manacles, and they dug in as I rocked back with the force of the blow. I stifled my complaints as the thorns dug in.

“Oh, just relax and feel the pain we’ll provide you”.

Well that was just great, if I’d had to do something I could have not done something.

I’ll summarise the next hour, potentially longer, for you; it sucked. Painful and horrific and everything not nice.

Hell’s Bells there was no way I’d be in a condition to fight Ortega even if I got loose now. Hopelessness was about to set in when someone smashed the Party.

And I do mean smashed, the creature/ demon blasted the door and proceeded to spew sulphuric hellfire at the fallen.

Its gravelly voice ground out,

“Beware foul angels,

prepare for a tangle,

with the Demon Etrigan.”

I could be hallucinating, I’d taken several hits to the head in the last hour, and I’m sure I’d lost more blood than was healthy, but I could swear the demon who spewed fire had given its name and issued a challenge to the fallen in poetry.  Bad poetry maybe but poetry nevertheless. The fallen gathered and began to fight back. But between the flaming breath and the flaming sword Etrigan was holding his own.

Blood from a slash in my head that had been held up by my eyebrow trickled into my eye blurring my vision.

I blinked and looked back to the entry others were streaming in. I recognised Sanya and Michael, and perhaps I caught Shiro in the background. I stopped trying to analyse my surroundings when a fit dude in a skin-tight suit came up to me and started on the lock.

“You don’t happen to know where the shroud is?”

“Depends on who you are?”

“The rescue party, Matches felt bad about leaving you behind.”

“Matches can call in a demon?”

“No, but he has friends who can.”

“That man has secrets.”

The skin-tight suit dude snorted, finishing up on the cuffs. He caught me as my legs gave out before I could fall into an undignified heap. “You can say that again.”

“The shrouds in that safe, last I saw,” I nodded to a cast iron box on the table.

“Cool, Hood did you catch that?”

Who was he talking to? I’d suspect an earpiece, but it would have burnt out in seconds in this kind of environment. I intended to go for the shroud but skin-tight was shaking his head, “The others have got it, my job is to get you out.”

Taking a moment, I rubbed the blood out of my eyes and assessed the room. To my surprise we were winning, six fallen verses this many should have left us horrifically outnumbered and out gunned. But, everyone here was competent as hell. Gun shots rung out, clacking against my aching head.

“And that’s our que to leave.”

We past Hendricks, Ms Gard and Marcone on the way out all of them ready to fire. A woman in fishnets stood by the entrance, which? Was my concussion worse than I thought or was Zatanna Zatara? I kept up with stage magicians in honour of my father, and Zatanna was one of the best acts in north America, I was a fan.

I was pulled through the door and a large black shadow growled, “how is he?”

“Been worked over well. I’d like to get him checked out, but he is breathing easy and has a strong pulse.”

“Good, get him and your team up top, we’ll get everyone else out.”

There was something about the shroud, something I had to say, the fog in my brain cleared for a moment, “you’ve got to get the shroud out,” I looked into glowing white eyes and weirdly felt the beginnings of a soul gaze. I wrenched my eyes away, soul gazes worked through glasses, but glowing lenses were a new one.

The black form nodded, “why’s it critical?”

“They… they’re going to use it to power the deadliest plague in human history, it’ll wipe us out.”

The Man/creature, it was hard to tell through the blood nodded again. “I’ll secure it. Nightwing get them out.”

I was being hauled away by skinny suit guy, I guessed I should call him Nightwing. I lost consciousness long before we reached the surface.

Chapter Text

The assault had gone better than anticipated. There were no major injuries other than Dresden. But the information on the shroud was concerning, as was the extra resistance when Hood cracked the safe and gained the cloth. The shadows and the living blades and the snapping teeth made the maddest of Gotham’s criminals seem…okay they were still worse.

But Batman managed to hold them off and Robin stayed out of reach long enough for Hood to make a getaway. Batman had acquired two more coins and Sanya had one when he ordered a retreat. Sure they could take out the other four fallen, probably, but their side would get injuries. Better to retreat and live to fight another day.

Doing a head count while engaged in furious battle seemed to be the way Batman’s life was going, but everyone got out and Zatanna got another coin.

Once the dark knight slipped through the door Zatanna chanted.

“laes siht ecalp,”

Stone grew out of nowhere and cut off the angel’s route to follow.

A second chant came, “thgil ruo htap.”

Light spread along their path and the group speed till they caught up with Nightwing. Their speed limited by Dresden’s semiconscious form. Zatanna rushed forward, “laeh sih sbir dna noissucnoc.”

Batman saw nothing but Dresden started making more noise and holding a bigger percentage of his own weight. Marcone stepped up to Dresden’s side and helped. They moved faster the crashing behind them motivating them to get to hire ground before the Fallen got free.

Zatanna pushed herself too hard but managed to make another two barriers at their backs. But Batman had to help her up the ladder at the end of their route.

Once they were clear they called an ambulance for Dresden, Batman melted into the shadows where he met Jason whose hood was off, though he was still wearing his domino mask. He scanned the man’s face to his concern his skin had a green tinge.

“Hood?”

“Yeah, Old man I’m fine.”

Batman snorted.

“Fine. Whatever makes the shroud tick, it’s close to Lazarus juice.”

The Lazarus Pit was what had brought his son back from the dead but had stolen his mind. Anything with a similar power was unlikely to be benevolent. For all he wanted nothing more than to rip that soul twisting piece of magic away from his son before it could corrupt him again, he held out a hand instead.

For half a second it looked like Jason was going to fight before he handed it over to Bruce. He closed his eyes briefly, “thank you,”

“yeah,” Hood said.

“Why?” a third voice asked, and Batman spun to find Marcone behind him.

“Why what?” Redhood said.

“Is the Lazarus juice such a bad thing?”

“You want to use it on your kid right?” Hood asked.

“Not mine, but a kid yes.”

“Don’t. Take it from someone who was dunked in the stuff, there are things worse than death and Lazarus juice is one of them.”

Batman wasn’t quite able to prevent the grunt of pain, a larger reaction than the worst hits Hood had delivered when he was truly mad. But his son admitting to rather being dead than going through his experiences? It ripped his heart out and stomped on it.

“You must have known about me during my more bloodthirsty days.”

“Yes, I intended to get nowhere close to you till you calmed. That was the Lazarus juice?”

“Yeah, it demands the price for your life in the deaths of others. It was all I could do to channel it to the scum of Gotham. The Lazarus pit made me into something I hated, had Robin been trained slightly worse I would have killed the kid.” Hood swallowed, “So I’ll beg you on your kid’s behalf. Don’t do it, please, there are worse things than death. The forceful corruption of your soul is one of them.”

Marcone’s face twisted but he nodded, “Can you safely return or dispose of that?”

Batman struggled to swallow his tears at his son’s description of the miracle that brought him back to them. He nodded rather than try to steady his voice.

“If I find anything which can pull off miracles without horrific side effects, I’ll send it your way,” He managed after a moment.

“Thankyou.” Marcone said, “And you Mr Hood for reminding me my guilt isn’t a good reason for a child to suffer.”

Hood nodded.

“The sooner we get this away from the Denarians the better,” Batman said.

“Go I’ll make your excuses. Make sure that doesn’t end in the wrong hands.”

Batman intended to go to the roof of the nearest skyscraper and wait for the plane, but an instinct stopped him. He turned into an alley and ran into one of the knights. Michael.

“I don’t know why but I’ve got a feeling you’re the right person to give these to.”

He held out a familiar package wrapped in white cloth. The Coins. Was it a coincidence that he was planning to stop by Metropolis and visit a reporter on his way home? If he couldn’t melt them into slag he could easily launch them into the sun or mount doom.

Batman grunted and pulled out an evidence bag, loosely tied hankies weren’t reliable enough to bet a soul on. In fact, he pulled out a second bag. He took the coins and met Robin on the roof, Nightwing and Redhood would make their own way home.

With one last look at Chicago he punched in the coordinates for Metropolis to visit a force from beyond earth.