Disclaimer: I do not own DC. They removed Burn Notice from Netflix! Fuck! Michael Weston is gone, children! I love that show! Now it's on Hulu and Amazon? I don't have either of those! What am I gonna do now?

Chapter 38: The Road To Hell

For people like Kara, moments to just sit and relax were few and far between. Given her occupation, she was always on-call for some kind of crazy, dangerous happenstance that people needed help dealing with. Given her biology, and the powers that came with it, there was no 'missing the call' so to speak. When something terrible was happening, she could tell. Depending on where she was, she could hear incidents as they occurred.

So, yes, it was difficult for her to just lay around and do nothing. The exception to this was whenever she was in Gotham City.

First of all, Gotham City seemed to pack all of its awfulness into the time frame of sunset to sunrise. That made it easy for her to take trips during the day. Another thing that made Gotham City work for taking some down time was that she was not allowed to operate as a hero there.

Why?

Well, 'Fucking Batman', as Max would put it.

Batman held a monopoly over the vigilantes allowed to ply their trade combating the criminals on the streets that he deemed as his. It wasn't as though he only extended his permission to his proteges like Robin and Batgirl. He allowed others who were barely affiliated with him at all to work. But the key part was that they were still affiliated with him. They could do their own thing, but in the end, Batman called the shots.

Kara had never bothered to figure out just what his criteria was for allowing others to patrol Gotham City. She just nodded and went along with it. Along with Superman and Wonder Woman, Batman was one of her major mentors.

Either way, those things led to Gotham City being a place where she could kick her feet up and set aside being Supergirl for a few hours.

That she always chose to do so in the company of an unapologetic criminal was neither here nor there.

A random, boring day at the tail end of summer saw Kara make her way to Max's townhouse to do nothing other than laze around with him, which he was very receptive to.

Max, on his end of things, had no problem with a lack of action. Working with the Secret Six had been an experience that he was still in the middle of processing. He had suited up and had outings in the week and a half since then, but nothing nearly as frenetic and perilous had taken place, thankfully.

A part of him wanted to look them up after some more time had passed. Other than Cheshire, he really didn't have much of a problem with most of them, even Deadshot. Yes, Deadshot had shot Selina in Italy, but she had survived with no permanent damage, and it had been business. Between Max personally breaking his fingers and his taking five rounds to the chest from Deathstroke, he'd physically paid up for that in Max's view.

But trying to connect with dangerous criminals could wait for when he was up to it. At the moment, all he wanted to do was what he was already doing - sit on his couch, scrolling through shows and movies on Hulu with a gorgeous Kryptonian girl laying her head in his lap.

After a text chain that ended in Max just telling her to drop by whenever she felt like it, he got a ring of the doorbell fifteen minutes later. He found Kara outside, dressed in summer clothes with a bag from a burger place and a big grin. He moved aside, and she wasted no time kicking her shoes off and making herself at home.

Of the many things he'd learned about Kara since they'd started dating, it had quickly become evident that she was fond of junk food. Because of her alien physiology, she had no real need for proper nutrition. Not that Max was necessarily a paragon of health himself, but when he'd cottoned onto Kara's eating habits, he'd found it hilarious how much worse hers were than his. Given how fantastic her body was, he would have never figured it out without having seen it repeatedly.

A yawn from the girl prompted Max to glance from the TV down to her. She seemed content; just about ready to doze off from the looks of things.

Whether it was because she felt Max's eyes on her, or because he'd stopped scrolling, Kara looked up at him, smiling when she caught his eyes, "What is it?" She asked.

"Nothing," Max responded automatically. He'd caught himself from saying something lame like, 'I can't believe I'm with someone like you,' "You know, you can pick what we watch next. You've seen the kind of crap I watch."

Kara giggled and took the remote from him to continue surfing for content, "You were the one who was too embarrassed to keep watching Jackass 3D with me in the room. Are you afraid that'll lower my opinion of you?"

Max chuckled and ran his hand through her long, blonde hair, "If your opinion of me isn't already low even though you know what I do for a living, I'm not concerned."

The two fell into a comfortable silence for a while, though Max's remark over what he did for a living got Kara thinking, her curiosity taking over. After she'd picked a show to watch and they were an episode deep, she took the chance to surgically strike with her question.

Turning fully to her back, she peered up with big, blue eyes, "Max, how much money do you have?" She asked, a piece of licorice hanging from her mouth.

The question was posed innocently enough, but talking about finances was no small thing for Max, "Uh, you know... a sizable amount."

The cagey reply didn't impress Kara, "That's not very specific," She deadpanned. Max just shrugged in return, "Well, where do you keep it? It's not all in one place or something, is it?" Her eyes lit up at the idea of a scavenger hunt of sorts, "Ooh, is it buried somewhere in Gotham? I could probably find it."

"Absolutely not," Max said, intending to nip that thought in the bud while he could, "On top of the idea that hiding that much money in one place in this town is a bad idea, burying the money is worse. Even if someone doesn't find all of it, eventually the moisture in the soil will eat away at the cash and make it rot."

Kara raised an eyebrow at the extremely specific line of reasoning, "Why do you know that?"

Max smirked down at her, "I know lots of things that are good for nothing. Thanks, Jeopardy," He said, before returning her look with a challenging one of his own, "Why are you so concerned with my assets anyway?"

Kara crossed her arms over her chest and blew some of her hair out of her face, "I know you told me you started stealing because you had no other way to pay your bills. But now..."

"Now, I'm nice and set," Max finished her thought for her. To be fair, it was one of the last aspects of how he operated that she knew nothing about, "Yeah, I get it. It's why I haven't gone a-heisting since I got pardoned," Other than robbing local crime operations blind at the behest of Red Hood, and for his own benefit, "But it's not like I can use most of what I've got."

Kara nodded in understanding, "Because you have to launder it."

"Because I have to launder it," Max repeated in confirmation, "Unless I'm buying black market crap, I can't just randomly sling around thousands of dollars. Where would Max Gabriel have gotten that kind of money?"

"Does that really matter anymore?" Kara asked, "I mean, any hero who really wants to know who you are can find out."

"-Fucking Batman," Max muttered angrily under his breath, eyes flickering electric blue for a moment. Kara ignored him.

"-And your pardon extends to your ill-gotten gains," The Girl of Steel continued, "I noticed that you never had to forfeit any of the money you made. Why don't you put it in an offshore account like other criminals?"

Wait. Why was she suggesting things for him to do with his stolen funds?

Max scoffed at the idea of handing over his physical cash and leaving it as an electronic number on a computer screen, "So Anarky can hack the bank and clean my goddamn coffers?"

"Who?" Kara asked, not privy to all of Max's adventures.

Max waved off further explanation, "Someone I pissed off a while ago. Don't worry about it," He didn't put it past Anarky to find out who he was, and get his hands into Max's accounts, despite being in prison, "No, there's gotta be a better way to handle my money."

He had gotten behind the eight ball in laundering his money. It had been easy when he had stolen smaller amounts. He could chalk it up to pay from the Tin Roof Club and tips. Now he come into a lot of it that he needed to flip before he could think about properly storing it away.

"You could invest it," Kara brightly offered, trying to come up with a safe, non-criminal way for Max to compound upon his savings.

"I might as well go to Vegas and bet all my money on roulette," Max joked, before realizing that his powers gave him a specific advantage in several games of chance, "...Hey, you want to go to Vegas when we turn 18?"

Kara grinned back in response, "I could just take you to Ventura now. It's a gambling planet."

Max responded incredulously, "There's a gambling planet?"

"There's an 'everything' planet," Kara said before returning to the discussion at hand, "Well... I could keep some of your money safe for you," The affronted expression on her boyfriend's face caught her attention, "What's with that look?"

Max took a moment to fix his countenance before answering, "Kara, as far as I'm concerned, having sex with me would be less intimate than what you just proposed."

Face turning red at Max's forthright declaration, Kara quickly sat up off of Max's lap and found herself stammering out a response, "W-W-What? How?"

Max sighed and launched into his reasoning, "I risked my life and probably compromised my chance at a carefree future to get that money. I've seen things I didn't think I'd ever see, and felt things I didn't think I'd ever feel, all in the pursuit of green," He said, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together symbolically, "My safety and anonymity from some of the world's scariest people has been traded in for the sake of finances. I couldn't possibly put the fruits of my labor into anyone else's hands."

The attempt to wax poetic over his reasons for keeping Kara from his capital quickly translated from her ears to her brain, "So, you're basically saying you don't want me to help you. Not because you're afraid I'll steal from you, but because you would rather keep your hoard like a dragon guarding its treasure," She deadpanned.

"Yes, that's right," Max said, unashamedly, "You wouldn't steal from me, even if I got my money by essentially stealing from others."

He trusted Kara completely. That being said, there was no soul in existence he would trust with his money. He didn't even really trust himself with it. It had been a miracle that he hadn't blown it yet on something stupid and extravagant that would have gotten unwelcome eyes turned his way.

Also, he didn't want Kara caught up in anything that would compromise her position as a hero. He didn't know how many people on the side of justice knew about their relationship, but he didn't anticipate a positive response from those who did.

"Why are you all about my money all of a sudden?" Max asked, "If you wanted me to buy you a present, all you had to do was say so," But then, what kind of present did you buy Supergirl when you wanted to spoil her?

It was kind of a joke, but Kara frowned. She wasn't particularly material in her desires, and she didn't like the idea of someone thinking they had to buy her affection, "I don't want anything. I was just wondering. As far as I know, it's standard procedure for criminals to keep their money somewhere people can't just find it."

It was why criminals usually had enough money to fund their schemes after breaking out of prison. It was usually how they funded their escapes in the first place. Find someone on the inside to bribe (and/or threaten), and get a trusted underling who wouldn't just steal your stash to offer a bit of cash as a carrot and violence as a stick to assist in the breakout.

Max touched Kara's cheek and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, "Well, thank you for thinking of helping, but I'll handle it myself," In return, she grinned and hummed in acknowledgment, "...Hey, have you thought of what you want to do with that drive I gave you?"

The switch to the significantly heavier topic managed to take the smile right off of Kara's face. She'd come to Max's to escape the reality of being Supergirl for a few hours. Yet, he had been the one to present her with the information to her not even a week prior. It stood to reason that he would be curious as to what she did with it.

Even so, Max didn't press her on it. He knew he wouldn't have liked it if someone kept harping on something he was already well aware of, "I wouldn't sit on that for too long, but I get why you're not hot on using it right now," He said.

"You are?" Kara asked.

Max frowned, sitting back on his couch with a thoughtful look on his face, "Yeah. You've looked at it, right?" Kara nodded, prompting Max to continue, "Then you know there's a list of people who've been mindwiped, and you know who's on it."

Kara had indeed gone through it.

There were so many details that she and others like her didn't know about. The people directly involved with the mindwipes were heroes she looked up to. Highly regarded members of the Justice League. This kind of thing could ruin how they were perceived by their peers and by the people they fought for.

The villains that had been mindwiped over the years were numerous. More so than she had thought upon first hearing about it. And it hadn't just been villains either.

"Selina is on it," Max said. This, Kara had discovered for herself. Max didn't know how to tell her, "…But then, Batman is too, so at least I can tell her that he didn't have anything to do with it," His mindset was thoroughly 'Fuck Batman', but Selina had a thing for him, so he considered her feelings.

Also... he considered his own feelings.

If Selina's mind had been altered, that meant that she had been a different person at one point. More than likely, a worse person. If that were the case, had Selina's mind never been tampered with, would she have decided to take him under her wing when they came across each other? Would she have trained him? Would she have cared about him?

Selfishly, Max was afraid of the answer. It was the main reason he'd been avoiding her since returning to Gotham City. It was the main reason he debated informing Selina of what he'd come across at all.

"I think the superhero community needs to see it," Max continued to say, "But I wouldn't bet against the idea that it's gonna tear you guys apart."

Contrary to popular belief, all superheroes weren't bosom buddies. Plenty of heroes didn't agree with the way others went about their business. Plenty of heroes had rivalries with each other. And plenty of heroes simply didn't like each other on a personal level.

Even if tons of people saw them as individuals above the trappings of regular human beings, they were still mortal. Superheroes could be just as petty and flawed as anyone else.

"Was that why that team you were on put it together?" Kara asked, trying not to accuse him of anything, "I don't even know who all was on it."

Max maintained confidentiality for the sake of his colleagues in The Six, "No. We put it together to help you fight The Society, so we didn't have to deal with them ourselves again."

Kara had heard Max call his team the Secret Six for the sake of reference, and that name must have meant something to him, because the only member she remembered him bringing up was Catman, and that was just the one time he'd said it in passing without thinking.

A team of bad guys that didn't necessarily care about the ongoing conflict between heroes and villains. It was a weird outlier in a situation that seemed black and white. At least, it did until Kara learned more about it.

"I have an idea, if you want to listen," Max offered, "The decision is on you, but we can go and have some words with the person at the center of this whole thing."

Zatanna Zatara. The magician that had personally performed the mind wipes. Both Max and Kara could go and find her if they really needed to. The thought of doing so, however, gave Kara pause.

"I don't like that idea," Kara said, nose wrinkling as she thought of how it could all blow up in their faces, "Magic is kinda one of the things that can take me and Kal-El out, so if things with Zatanna go south..." She trailed off, uncertainty in her voice.

Max took her counsel into account, grateful for someone actually informing him of something important before it became a problem, "See, that's the kind of stuff I wish people would tell me more before I'm already hip-deep in something. Good on you," He would keep in mind that magic gummed up Kryptonian works for the future, "Alright. We'll come up with something else then."

The fact that he was willing to get himself involved, despite saying moments ago that he'd given her the drive so that he didn't have to made Kara's heart swell a bit, "I need advice, Max. No offense, you're great and all, but-."

"No-no, I get it," Max preempted her with a chuckle, "Somewhere along the line, I decided to steal for a living. Needless to say, my judgment is probably a little skewed."

That much they could both agree on.

"Mmm. Fortunately, you're still cute," Kara pinched Max's cheek before rising up from his couch, "I need to think about it more. Would you mind holding onto the drive until I can come and get it back?"

Max accepted the small item when Kara handed it over to him, "You expecting trouble over it?"

Kara shook her head in the negative. In fact, even if the possibility existed, she didn't even plan on bringing up that she had such a thing, "No. But better safe than sorry."

She got into quite a bit of trouble, with doing as much crime fighting and hero activities as she got into all over the world. It was such a tiny thing, even if she was stronger than Max, there was always a chance she could lose it.

Ever paranoid, Max could co-sign onto that sentiment. He would help, considering that he'd dumped all of the responsibility onto Kara in the first place, "Right. I'll keep it somewhere safe until you're ready to take it."

Kara walked behind the couch, and in the time it took for Max to pocket the drive and get up, she had changed out of her day-to-day clothes and into her Supergirl outfit in a whirlwind of motion.

Max stopped and stared at the pile of clothes on the floor, then at the blonde girl standing over them, "...Were you just naked in my house?"

Kara rolled her eyes in amusement as she stooped down to gather her things. Clearly, he was focusing on what was important, "Mmm. And you didn't even get a peek. Poor thing."

"That x-ray vision you have is wasted on you," Max joked back as he accompanied Kara to the back door of his home.

"Says who?" Kara teased, stopping to give Max a good look up and down. Whether or not she was actually looking through his clothes or not, she'd never say, "We'll talk about this soon. Don't worry. We can figure something out. I know it," She gave him a kiss and threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

Max wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off of the ground as he returned the gesture, "I can't wait. I feel the weight in my pocket growing every second," He said.

It had been a joke, but he was mostly serious about it. There had been a reason he'd given it to Kara in the first place; because he wanted no part of it.

It was evident that she didn't either.

XxX

(Elsewhere – Batcave)

Blue Beetle had a problem.

The man underneath the costume, Ted Kord, also controlled Kord Industries, a wide-ranging research and development company currently under the umbrella of Wayne Enterprises. There was slight issue with a misplaced 20 million dollars.

20 million dollars had been siphoned through WayneTech and then split off to several dummy corporations.

Businesses lost millions all the time, but because Kord used money from both the company and his own coffers to help fund superhero endeavors, it was a tad more than a drop in the bucket for him. He was nearly bankrupt. The only clue was the initials O.M.A.C. On one of the payment receipts.

Thus, he needed to see Bruce Wayne.

Unfortunately for him, Batman had no time for him.

The whole time Blue Beetle met with him in the Batcave, Batman busied himself with one of his other projects, only sparing him cursory attention at best, ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder at worst.

The first hint of human warmth Blue Beetle received was when Batman's butler checked in on the meeting between the two heroes, "Would you care for some tea, Mister Kord?"

"Thanks, Alfred," Blue Beetle accepted a cup with a grateful smile. Alfred set down a cup for Batman as he continued working at his crime laboratory, "You should have let me install that track lighting, Bruce. I almost tripped over the Bat-scooter, or whatever, on the way in."

"It's a handheld glider," Batman said matter-of-factly, "What do you need, Ted?"

Blue Beetle tried not to be affected by how cold Batman seemed. There were more important things to be concerned with than his feelings, though it didn't bode well on getting any assistance.

Still, he had to try. This was the only avenue he could really look to for a lead, "Waynetech is being manipulated just like Kord Industries. This O.M.A.C. Thing-."

Batman cut him off before he could further plead his case, "I'll look into it."

Blue Beetle froze with his mouth still open in the form of the sentence he'd been speaking. The outright dismissal left him feeling utterly defeated, "Something's going on, Bruce. The world's getting darker. Look at what's happened to us," He said quietly, "Booster said he couldn't wear the costume anymore. Not after what happened. And I keep hearing things about Dr. Light and erasing-."

Something in what he said triggered Batman. He angrily slammed his hand down on the table, rattling his equipment and spilling Alfred's tea, "I said I'll look into it," He reasserted, turning his back to Blue Beetle fully, "You know the way out."

Blue Beetle just stood in shock after being outright dismissed by someone who had been a friend, "I..."

Then again, he didn't know what he'd been expecting. Batman had been drifting away from other heroes for some time. Since before the inception of The Society, even.

Staying there any longer wouldn't get him anything, except more of Batman's ire.

Blue Beetle turned and left with as much dignity as he could muster, "Thanks for the tea, Alfred."

It was for his own sake, because Batman couldn't have cared less. He didn't see Blue Beetle out. He didn't even bother watching him leave. It was a frigid way to treat someone, even for Batman. Even Alfred couldn't find it in him to excuse such behavior.

"Sir?" Alfred got Batman's attention once it was clear that Blue Beetle had departed, "Perhaps it's better to forgive and forget?"

It was a noble sentiment. However, if Batman were the type to do so easily, he wouldn't have ever become Batman in the first place.

"The Justice League didn't just take Light's memories, Alfred," Batman said, "There's a reason they call me paranoid. I'm paranoid because I know what they did."

XxX

(With Null – Later That Night – Gotham City)

In Gotham City, the number of people Null he trusted could be counted on one hand... with four fingers left over. But there were a few people he could count on to a certain degree.

One of them, he was able to locate taking refuge in an office building under renovation. Moving past the metal frames of walls meant to go up, and through plastic sheets cordoning off sections of one of the upper the floor, he found Red Hood without his helmet, sat in a chair, eye peering down the scope of a large, high-powered rifle set up on a stack of pallets.

Null didn't bother hiding his approach. He'd already let Red Hood know that he was coming. When Red Hood noticed him, the violent vigilante waved a greeting to him, never taking his attention off of his weapon.

Null took a seat on the floor, his back against the pallet Red Hood was using as a mount for his gun, "What's the word, Hood?" He asked, brushing away some of the trash that Red Hood had left nearby. He'd clearly been there for a while.

"Null," Red Hood said pleasantly, "Back from your whirlwind vacation? Feeling relaxed? Refreshed?"

Null scoffed, recognizing Red Hood's attempt to patronize him, "My trip was shit as far as relaxation went. I just felt like checking in with you," "He said, "Letting you know I'm back in case you have any targets you need me to soften by stealing their shit."

Red Hood let out a hum of interest, "That's appreciated, but all the same, you might want to keep your head down in this place for a while."

Null's face twisted in confusion under, "Eh? Why?"

Red Hood adjusted the zoom on his scope as he kept scanning for his target, "You just got back, so you probably don't know. You're persona non grata now in Gotham. Lotta crooks out there after your head."

In the past, such information would have sent a chill down Null's spine. But after the summer he'd had, he found himself not sweating about it so much, "...For the first time in my life, I'm actually not that concerned."

"I figured," Red Hood remarked, sounding impressed. He spared a momentary glance away to look down at the young thief, "What did you even do?"

Null shrugged in return, "Got caught up with The Society. I ran into a few Gotham City regulars while I was dealing with them."

It wasn't too much of a wonder as to why there was now a problem with him in Gotham City. While a good number of Society members had been killed or maimed in combat against the Secret Six, many more survived to spread the word of what had happened. That word had trickled back to the city where many criminals had joined The Society didn't surprise him.

"And you're still standing?" Red Hood asked. He'd had to deal with a few Society incursions himself. Unfortunately for them, it was harder than they probably expected to encroach on Gotham City.

"Like I said, my vacation was shit," Null reiterated. The pair fell into silence as Red Hood continued his stakeout, "...Hey, Hood, mind if I ask you a question?"

Red Hood pulled back from the rifle and rubbed his eyes wearily, "Why not? I've been looking through this scope for five hours, and I'm bored as hell. Shoot."

"What do you think about heroes?"

Red Hood didn't seem to know how to take the question at first, "Like, anyone in particular? Or just in general?" He already knew that Null was less than fond of Batman, but he could join the club as far as that area.

"I mean the whole scene," Null specified, wishing to draw upon Red Hood's time under the Dark Knight's employ, "You were deep in it back in the day. What do you think?"

Red Hood took some time to truly consider what he thought about the question before answering, "I think there are a few big problems with it all that nobody's addressing. For instance, even back when I was Robin, it seemed like there were too many heroes who cared about the optics of something instead of actually tackling what needed to be done."

A lot of heroes could be extremely self-absorbed. Prominent heroes; ones with reach. Null knew this. Not too long ago, he had literally run up against a 'hero' whose entire motivation for being a good guy was to fuck Supergirl.

"There's plenty of heroes out there who really care about helping. Unfortunately, there's only so far they're willing to go. Ethics, am I right?" Red Hood continued, "For others though? Well, it's a real glamour party for some of them."

And that wasn't what real crime fighting was about. The reality was gritty and ugly. Sometimes there was no best-case scenario. A lot of times, the only options were bad ones and worse ones, and the only difference between them was how many people would be hurt because of the decision you made, and who those people were.

"I'd guess you wouldn't fall into that latter category," Null wagered to guess.

Red Hood chuckled as he peered back down the sights of his gun, "And as you can clearly see, it eats me up inside," He said sarcastically, "But you know what they say, Null. Sometimes doing the right thing isn't doing the right thing."

Null rolled his eyes, "What the hell does that even mean?"

A wide grin slowly spread across Red Hood's face, "Right?" He said, seemingly glad that someone else seemed to feel the same way about it that he did, "It's like this. You know who's building I'm looking at right now?"

Null peeked over the pallet to make sure he was where he thought he was, "Black Mask's hideout. Duh. I was the one who found it for you," Part and parcel of a working agreement established between the two of them.

"That's right," Red Hood said, "I know he's in there. You know he's in there. Anyone who cared to find out probably could figure out he's in there. So, why's he still here?"

Null didn't answer. There were a lot of possible reasons as to why. But he understood what Red Hood was getting at. Regardless, Red Hood listed off a handful of reasons.

"Because it would take more resources and blood than GCPD are willing to expend to conduct a raid. Because the politicians who also use that building don't want to let it be known that they're neighbors with Black Mask," Red Hood said before pausing, "...Because even if Batman could raid the place himself without getting gunned down by Black Mask's army... he'd take him alive at all costs. Black Mask would be sent to Blackgate, and he would be back out on the street in a fortnight."

Nothing would be solved. It would just kick the can down the road, so to speak. In the meantime, someone would try to step up to fill the vacuum Black Mask's departure would leave. That would lead to things getting worse. Then, once Black Mask was out again, he would go on the warpath to consolidate his power once more, which would make things even worse.

All that could have been solved with a few well-placed bullets. No one would mourn for the targets. But no. Because such a method of problem-solving was frowned upon.

"I don't have any hang-ups like that," Red Hood said, "Which is why I'm here, you see."

That made sense. Red Hood always seemed to be working towards making a move on someone with power in Gotham City. That he planned on going after someone like Black Mask wasn't that much of a surprise.

Null looked between Red Hood's rifle and where he could see it was aiming, "So you're gonna wait for him to poke his head out so you can take a shot?"

Red Hood looked at Null strangely before realizing that "Oh, not with this. I'm just using this to sight. This isn't... bombastic enough to send my kind of message," Red Hood got up and walked over to a long crate in the corner where he pulled out a brand-new anti-tank launcher, "That's what this baby is for."

Null watched as Red Hood casually loaded the rocket launcher, as though he were putting lead in a mechanical pencil, and not working with a deadly weapon. It was a good thing he didn't consider petty thievery as deserving of his wrath, "...One of these days, you've got to tell me how you get all this stuff."

"We all have our benefactors," Red Hood said cryptically before grabbing his helmet and heading outside, "Wanna hang around for the fireworks?"

Null thought about it for half a second before following him out, "...Yeah, I do."

Who didn't want to see an explosion?

XxX

(Meanwhile)

A man in a white dress shirt and black dress pants with a black tie sat behind his desk, irritably drumming his fingers off of the surface. The most striking physical feature he possessed was the lifelike black skull mask permanently burned to his head, "And here I thought working with The Society was supposed to make things easier. It seems like they're just dumping shit to do in my lap."

In topsy-turvy city where the balance of power in the criminal underworld could be called precarious at best, Roman Sionis, a.k.a. Black Mask, had been at the top of the heap for some time. No major event of the last year had removed him from his position. Even the mass escape of dangerous inmates from Arkham Asylum had at worst caused distractions to his business, and at best provided him a source of enforcers he could hire for his own means.

However, the advent of The Secret Society of Supervillains was beginning to irk him. Black Mask wanted control of Gotham City. That was his primary concern. The Society had world-reaching aims. Unfortunately, those aims partially covered Gotham City, and he was one of the countless supervillains coerced to play ball.

He'd already put the word out that there was a bounty on the head of Null. He'd heard of the kid before - some thief who'd been floating around for most of the year. A pain in the ass, mostly. But what he had done to The Society as a member of the Secret Six had circulated well amongst the criminal underground.

Also, he'd taken up the pastime of hitting safehouses that belonged to those under Black Mask's employ. He'd swipe anything that could be seen as valuable. Money, weapons, drugs, he'd strip the places bare.

These were usually precursors to Red Hood assaults. The belief going around his camp was that Red Hood would send Null in to scout for him, and his pay would be whatever he could find that he could carry on his way out. These occurrences had died down over the summer, but even if there wasn't a connection between the two, the point remained that Null was a thorn in Black Mask's side.

Not as big of one as Red Hood, who was tearing through his underlings, but still an annoyance, nevertheless. So, having a hand in getting rid of him could serve two purposes.

Black Mask's ire was directed at his chief assistant, a skinny, bespectacled man in a grey suit, "Killing that little twerp will buy brownie points with Luthor and his freak brigade, AND will keep his sticky fingers outta my pockets once and for all. How fucking hard is it to find one stupid brat!?"

Despite Black Mask's temper, his assistant didn't cower, "Truthfully? It's not like he works for or with anyone, and he operates all over the city. There's no pattern to follow to figure out where he dwells."

"That's not acceptable," Black Mask stated matter-of-factly.

"I know," His assistant responded, "I was just answering the question."

"Why can't we just flush him out?" Black Mask asked, "There's gotta be someone he's close to in this godforsaken city. We can grab 'em and cut 'em to pieces until he shows his face."

His assistant scrolled through notes on a tablet, "Known associates of Null include Deadshot, Catman, Supergirl-."

Upon just hearing the beginning of that lineup, Black Mask cringed and quickly decided against such a course of action, "-Okay, nevermind. Shit."

"Wait," Black Mask's assistant said, "There is Catwoman."

While Black Mask was no fan of Gotham City's most acclaimed cat burglar, and would relish in the opportunity to make her suffer, getting ahold of her wasn't exactly the easiest feat.

"To get Catwoman, we'd have to flush her out too," Black Mask said, "I'm not hunting for someone that troublesome just to get ahold of someone else we'll find ourselves eventually!" He growled to himself before simply deciding to wash his hands of it, "To hell with it. I'm telling Luthor that the word for the bounty is out, but if he really wants this kid to pay, he'll send someone himself."

His assistant raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure that's wise?"

Black Mask scoffed, "What are they gonna do? If chrome dome has a problem with it, he can send his own muscle to... eh?"

He stopped talking when he looked out the window of his office and saw Red Hood standing on a rooftop, Null by his side. The former had an RPG on his shoulder, waving at him with one hand before moving it back to aim.

The crime lord immediately took off running, shoving his assistant out of the way as he made a break for the door.

XxX

Both Null and Red Hood snickered to themselves when Black Mask caught sight of them and took off running.

"Wow, he can really move when he wants to," Red Hood remarked.

"I've never actually seen Black Mask before," Null said, slightly in awe of seeing the skulled visage of the crime boss, "Is that really his face?"

Instead of answering, Red Hood fired his RPG. The rocket flew across the street and right through the window into Black Mask's floor of the building. The resulting explosion blew out the entire floor in flames.

"Not anymore it isn't," Red Hood said before setting the rocket launcher aside, "Just kidding. He probably got out of that. Oh well. I got my point across. Just need to make sure he knows nowhere's safe," He turned to Null and noticed that he didn't seem very thrown off by the brazen display of violence, "Why aren't you freaking out?"

Null shrugged his shoulders, "Kinda getting a bit jaded to seeing it, I guess."

Between Rose, Red Hood, and the majority of the Secret Six, he'd seen enough of his cohorts kill before that only more egregious homicides affected him. Grislier, more unnecessary deaths, or targeting those that he felt didn't deserve it, for instance. This hadn't been that.

Black Mask ran the worst rackets that Gotham City had to offer. He got a taste of every bit of organized crime that came through. The blood on his hands could fill a community swimming pool, firsthand or secondhand.

As far as who Red Hood had targeted, it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

XxX

Wandering the alleys a few blocks away from the building that had once served as his hideout, Black Mask tried in vain to brush the soot and grime off of him. It had been a close call, making it out just before everything was destroyed, but he was unharmed.

The sound of sirens filled the night, coming from the direction Black Mask marched away from, deeply vexed, "Any fucking idea how that happened!?" He asked Mr. Li, "He put a damn rocket in my office. That entire floor is fortified to withstand an airstrike from-."

"-Except the east window," Mr. Li interjected, equally disheveled. His glasses were even missing a lens, "It was being repaired."

"Right! How'd he know that? How'd he even know where the building was!?" Black Mask spat angrily. He wanted to hurt something, "Bring me one of those knuckle-dragging security techs who designed this so-called fortress!"

"Most were killed in the blast," Li pointed out.

"Right," Black Mask grumbled before a thought struck him, "How'd you get out?"

"I ran after you," Li said matter-of-factly.

Black Mask found himself impressed. He could not have hightailed it out of that office any quicker, and he had a head start over his assistant, "Wow. You're quick."

Despite the situation, Li couldn't help but grin proudly, "I take a spinning class three times a week," He said informatively.

"Huh. Well, it works for you."

"No kidding."

At that moment, an overweight man in a suit ran up breathlessly, flanked by a few of Black Mask's surviving guards. Clearly, someone had not taken to the benefits of cardiovascular exercise.

"Sir!" The man called out, stopping with his hands on his knees, huffing and puffing, "Sir! Thank God you got out!"

Black Mask just looked on with thinly veiled displeasure, "Look Mr. Li. It's Mr. O'Donnel, our chief of security."

O'Donnel didn't seem to pick up on the dangerous sarcasm in Black Mask's tone, "Sir, the moment I heard of the attack, I had every man available running full diagnostics. It's impossible for anyone to breach our systems."

"And yet, my entire building is one soot-covered stain," Black Mask replied.

"Well... yes. B-But I assure you-!"

*BANG!*

Black Mask didn't even bother with hearing out whatever his half-assed excuse would be. He simply shot him in the head, felling him where he stood in the alley. A message needed to be sent through the ranks, and no one failed him that night for the money that he paid him more than the man that had designed his security.

"Do any of you understand what's going on?" He asked, the full attention of his underlings caught by his violent display. The gun in his hand was still smoking, "Bit-by-bit, the Red Hood has been taking our trade. He's grabbed our territory, destroyed our goods, and killed our people. And now, he's coming after me! ME!" He emphasized harshly, "Everyone knows that Gotham is under my control! My command! Except this guy!"

Even other supervillains didn't go after him to try and take a chunk of his business. Granted, most of them were psychopaths motivated by things other than money. But even financially focused criminals like Penguin didn't try to go after him.

Red Hood didn't care, and Null didn't seem to either. That much had been made abundantly clear.

"This ends now," Black Mask declared, "Red Hood wanted to take a shot at the man? Fine. He had his chance – he missed. Fun time's over. He's dead. His little friend is dead. I want their beaten, mutilated corpses ground up in front of me. I want to eat the Hood's heart, and break my foot stomping a mudhole in Null's skull."

"Sounds good. Want some help?"

On edge after the attack and their boss's displeased speech, Black Mask's entourage pulled out their guns and aimed toward the rooftop they heard the voice from. Black Mask himself saw the source of the voice and quickly motioned for his men to lower their weapons.

"Put 'em down," Black Mask ordered, "You'll all be dead before you're out of ammo."

The Ravager, Grant Wilson, stood up from where he'd been crouched on the roof, holding a pair of assault rifles, just in case there was a need to open fire, "Smart man."

Black Mask muttered to himself, "Yeah, it takes a MENSA member to know you could ice all of these idiots. You got something to say?" He spoke up in Grant's direction.

Grant dropped his rifles and shrugged, "Luthor figured you could use someone specifically dedicated to handling your little problem. Sorry, our problem."

Black Mask was skeptical. Yes, he was card-carrying member of The Society... because he was forced to play ball. That membership had done nothing to benefit him up to that point, "So, you're here to deal with Red Hood?"

"Yep," Grant replied.

"And Null too?"

"That's what I'm saying to you."

"Because I want them dead."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean the big kind of dead," Black Mask specified, "Serious. Dead. Head on a pike, guts on the pavement, me wearing a sweater vest made of their skin, kind of dead."

A wide grin slowly spread across Grant's face, "As long as I can try on the one I make from Null, it would be my pleasure. But I'll focus on Red Hood first. Business before pleasure, after all."

XxX

(The Next Day – Gotham County Juvenile Detention Facility)

Max had wanted to put the information he and the Secret Six had come across into responsible hands. Hands that weren't his. There was no part of him that wanted to carry that weight. Then again, he had gone and put the onus on Kara, which hadn't been fair either.

All of this was his to deal with, no matter how much he didn't want to. And to do so, he needed counsel.

Unfortunately, he lacked a real brain trust, which was why he had to go to Red Hood for a semblance of somewhere to start thinking from. He needed more perspective though, which was what led him to take a day trip for a visit with an old foe.

Sitting in a sparsely populated room, a table separated Max from a teenage boy with glaring blue eyes and a curly, red mullet.

He looked a lot different outside of the Anarky costume.

"Hey, Lonnie," He greeted sheepishly, "How's it going?"

Lonnie rolled his eyes, "What are you doing here?" He asked, keeping his voice down, "Most of the time, people don't come visit the ones they put away in the first place."

Max held up his hands defensively, "Hey, easy. They're recording this, you know."

Lonnie raised an eyebrow and glanced at all of the cameras in the room, "I'm just gonna nod and pretend that you didn't knock out surveillance the moment you first opened your mouth," Max shrugged his shoulders, not denying it, "So it's true. You are stronger than you used to be."

"You been keeping tabs on me," Max said. It wasn't a question, "I'm flattered."

Seeing as how Lonnie knew who he was upon sitting down, even without being told, he had to have access to something high-tech enough to steal the details to his identity. Despite the fact that he was behind bars, Max didn't put it past him. He didn't expect less from a hacker on Lonnie's level.

Lonnie slouched in his chair and irritably drummed his fingertips off of the metal table, "There was a time I figured I'd come after you for revenge when I got the chance, but… there are more important things in the world to worry about. What the people need goes beyond petty grudges."

Max was actually surprised. It might have been the first time someone who didn't like him managed to move past it, "Wow. That's actually pretty big of you to-"

"-I'd still bounce your skull off of the wall behind you if I didn't feel you had my cuffs stuck to this table."

That was more of the reaction Max had expected, which was why he'd done so as a precautionary measure, "Hey, better safe than sorry," Max said, not apologizing, "I came to get some advice."

The teenager under the Anarky guise scoffed at the thought, "From me? You want my advice? Are you kidding?"

"If nothing else, I know you won't bullshit me."

Lonnie was willing concede that point. If there was anything that he had learned about Max in their time fighting one another, despite being a thief, his criminal counterpart didn't lie. To that end, he could tell that Max recognized that trait in him as well.

It was probably one of the few similarities they possessed.

"Fine," Lonnie said, "But what makes you think I'd even want to help you with anything."

Being truthful and being willing to divulge information were two entirely different things. Lonnie didn't have to lie about what ever Max wanted from him. He could simply tell him to take a hike and walk back to his cell. Not unless Max felt he had some kind of leverage over him to exploit-.

"You don't have to," Max said with a shrug, eyes half-closed lazily.

Max's frank detachment caught Lonnie off-guard. He came all this way to speak with him, yet he didn't begrudge Lonnie the right to up and leave? He didn't even seem like he was working an angle.

Lonnie thought back through the day up to that point. Max's visit had been a surprise. There had been no message or anything that could even be construed as such to lead him in one direction or another. Nothing at all. Max had legitimately come to see him, and was willing to respect his right to refuse to engage him.

It was oddly straightforward enough that Lonnie found himself curious, "…What do you want?"

Max flashed a jump drive that he'd hidden up his sleeve and smuggled into the facility. It was only visible for a moment, just long enough for Lonnie to make out what it was.

"What is that?" Lonnie asked.

"Something important is on it. Stupid-important," Max said, "Something that would change the way everyone sees superheroes all over the world."

It could have been taken as an exaggeration from a child, but being privy to many of the things Null had been up to, and how they had escalated over time, he trusted his gut when it told him that Max was on the level, "How?"

Max wasn't willing to come off of anymore details than that. Not until he figured out what was to be done.

Ignoring Lonnie's question altogether, Max tried instead to give him a bit more context, "I feel like this will do two things. It'll turn a lot of people in the world against superheroes. But it will weed out the shitty heroes who are only in it for themselves. It'll make sure that heroes who really want to do the right thing are the only ones left."

Lonnie bit back a growl. He despised not knowing things. Here, Max was dangling information that sensitive right in front of his face, and yet he wouldn't spill a hint of it.

"So now, I have two questions," Max said.

Lonnie leaned forward, elbows on the table, "I'm listening."

Max took a deep breath and went ahead, "First, what would you do if you wanted nothing to do with this, but felt like someone had to do something."

"Not be a pussy," Lonnie deadpanned, "If you feel like someone has to do something, do it yourself."

Max winced at the barb, "Okay, should have seen that coming," He didn't know what else he expected from someone willing to go to the extreme of crashing the world's economy for what he believed in, "Right then. Second question-."

Lonnie waved a hand and shook his head, cutting Max off from saying more, "Don't you dare ask me what should be done with it. If you should have seen my last answer coming, you know full well what I'll say for this one."

"Release it to everyone," Max answered, eliciting a nod from Lonnie. He was a firm believer in individual opinion and the right of every man and woman to decide on things for themselves. Max could agree with that, but in some cases, certain things could be dangerous, "My problem with that, is it would torch everything as we know it. Taking over would be a cakewalk for The Society then."

"You don't have to do it now then," Lonnie said, "Wait until The Society gets taken down. Hell, take them down yourself."

Max almost laughed out loud in his face, "Nope."

This time, Lonnie should have known how Max would react to such a suggestion, "My point is, if you really have something that big, it's evergreen. Come up with a plan. Execute the plan. You have a brain. You found me and stopped me. You've stayed alive this long. Use your head."

That he was complimenting Max out loud in any capacity made him want to ram his own head into a solid object. But it was warranted, and in this case it needed to be done.

"You're a selfish fuck, so you already know that you want to do something," Lonnie said, "Hell, I'm sure you know what it is you want to do. You just know that doing anything, one way or the other, is going to make things hard."

For Max, the worst thing was that Lonnie was completely right. In the end, however, he felt that he'd heard what he needed to. Anarky seemed completely pretentious and holier-than-thou, but damned if Lonnie didn't stick to his own dogma and mean every bit of it.

There was something to respect about that, even if Max felt that Lonnie needed to take a step back and chill out a bit. While he meant well with his schemes, they had the potential to hurt countless people in the long term. Max agreed that the world wasn't great. Lots of things needed to be fixed up and reformed. But there were ways to change undesirable systems without burning everything about them down to ashes.

One day, Lonnie might see that, and then, with the kind of conviction he had and his intelligence, he'd be something incredible.

Max rose from his seat, touching the table as he departed to release the magnetic connection it had with Lonnie's handcuffs, "I'll catch you around, Lonnie. Maybe next time, it won't be in here."

"You know I've got nine years left on my sentence," Lonnie said.

Max stopped and turned over his shoulder, his head bobbing up and down with a small smile on his face, "I'm just gonna nod and pretend that you couldn't break out of here literally right after I leave," His gaze directed forward once more, he continued to exit, "See you when I see you."

Lonnie breathed a laugh through his nose. True enough, he could break out of his juvenile detention facility anytime he wanted to. He'd made the arrangements for himself months ago. In the meantime, he'd just been doing research and making plans.

He wanted the reason he left to be worth the hassle that would follow. And perhaps he had just been presented with that reason.

"Maybe I'll see you sooner than you think."

XxX

When Maxwell Lord was young, he was taught one lesson by his mother that he carried with him for the rest of his life.

The lesson was that powerful people were not to be underestimated. And if one was to go after these sorts of people, one needed to plan every step. Without fail. And more importantly, when fighting powerful people, good people were always going to get hurt.

Despite his unassuming appearance; short brown hair, and a black turtleneck and pants with a shoulder holster, he had been involved with people oftentimes seen as closer to gods than mortal for much of his adult life.

There was always one constant in Maxwell Lord. While his plans, methods, and directions had often changed over the years, one thing had always remained the same - his unquenchable desire to be in control.

It began with the creation of his own corporate empire. He rose to become one of the wealthiest people in the world. But it was never enough. Men who hid behind businesses were just villains. And why would Maxwell settle for just making money when there were villains playing by different rules.

Maxwell Lord didn't play by the rules. He'd helped guide heroes into coming together under the umbrella of his own Justice League International, a derivative of the original group that he served as the benefactor and agent of. He'd had control of some of the most powerful beings on Earth, and did so for years. But time passed and things changed.

Through a series of events, the natural intellect and charisma that had led him to where he was, somehow became an actual power via the activation of his metagene. The power to control minds.

Yes, things changed. The scale of things got out of hand. Absurdly so.

When Doomsday crashed down on Earth to eradicate Superman, 40,000 people were killed in the battle that proceeded to rip a scar across the United States.

The Green Lantern Jon Stewart's arrogance and overconfidence in his own abilities led to the entire planet of Xanshi being destroyed.

Seven million people were killed when Coast City, California was destroyed by Mongul in an attempt to turn the planet into his new Warworld.

These were just a few examples, but the last event mentioned affected Maxwell personally. His mother lived in Coast City.

When fighting powerful people, good people were always going to get hurt. It didn't matter if those powerful people also happened to be good. How could this be the accepted way of things?

The existence of superheroes was a nightmare. They needed to be done away with, and Lex Luthor agreed enough to provide Maxwell with the perfect tool to get the ball rolling. Batman, of all people, had created the perfect tool to get the ball rolling.

But it wouldn't end with heroes. Whatever Luthor expected to happen, he had to know that Maxwell would not allow him and his Society free reign. They wouldn't have their run of the world. In fact, they would perish along with the heroes.

Brother Eye – a semi-autonomous artificial intelligence surveillance system. Through the use of Brother Eye, Batman collected a massive database of information concerning every known metahuman on Earth. Now, he had access to it. It was in his hands. And the information was only the beginning.

After all, he had a plan, and it would be followed; every step of the way.

That's the chapter. A shorter one than the last two monsters I wound up putting out, and a bit of a moment to let some things breathe.

We're going to slow it down a bit for the next arc. It's not going to be nearly as aggressively actiony as the last one, but I hope it'll work for you guys reading it. Amusing myself is paramount, but it's nice when other people enjoy as well.

Alright – a bit of housekeeping, now.

To the individual who's been spam reviewing under a guest account since, like, the last time I updated; who, in so many words thinks Max is weak and the story sucks because of it… thank you.

I used to delete them since most of them say the exact same thing, but then I thought, "Why?" The half-assed complaints are really making this story this person hates (yet still read through, apparently) look a lot better to people who sort by review count. So, I appreciate the boost. They probably would have padded me by at least thirty by now if I'd kept them all.

I wouldn't even have brought it up normally. These sorts of things have happened tons of times before in other stories over the last ten years, after all. But he/she is also watching the reviews (seeing as how I get them all), so when other people review and try to respond, he/she's responding to them… in another guest review. So now it's affecting you guys too.

So, of course, thank you to the ones of you who like the story, and those who even if you dislike the story, offer constructive criticism, or at least give me something to think about. Not in this case, of course, but other times. The potential for immediate feedback is one of the biggest things that make fan fiction what it is. However, I'm going to keep doing what I want, as should the rest of you.

As always, I hope you enjoyed, and if not? Well, no refunds. Fuck that. I'm like Evel Knievel. I get paid for the attempt. I didn't promise this shit would be good.

…

…You mean, you didn't pay me for this? Oh.

Kenchi out.