Dominoes of the Elite

The crystalline dust still settled on the shattered marble of the Iceberg Lounge, but the night in Gotham remained relentless.

The Cauldron of Glass and Poison

Odette's Private Office

Latia, better known as Bane, threw a wrought-iron structure aside with a furious roar, the tubes fluorescing in a pulsating neon green as the serum was pumped directly into her jugular. Shards of crystal fell from her shoulders like a rain of defeated glory.

Bane gasped, his voice distorted by the tactical mask.

"She escaped! The masked bitch hid behind glass and smoke! Let me go after her, Odette! I'll rip that bat's spine out with my own hands!"

Odette smoothed the folds of her black silk dress, adjusting the small fascinator over her hair with a cold calm that concealed the subtle tremor in her hands. The mark of Brianna's leather fingers still burned on her pale throat. Odette, in a low voice, thick with seething venom:

"Enough, you steroid-fueled freak! Look at this place! You've turned my sanctuary into a decaying kennel and let a hooded imposter use us as toys."

Bane took an intimidating step forward, the floor creaking:

"Watch what you say to me. I am the force that keeps this city on its knees. Without me, you're just a rich woman with a pretty umbrella."

Odette snapped the umbrella's clasp open with a dry, metallic click, pointing the steel tip at Bane's chest:

"And without my money, you're just a poison addict dying in an Arkham Asylum cell. She didn't come here for the underworld, you stupid girl. She mentioned his name... Michael."

Odette looked at the broken window, through which the cold Gotham fog streamed in, stirring the torn curtains.

Odette: continuing, in a calculating whisper

— The Dark Knight now answers to an owner. And if Wayne Enterprises belongs to this Michael guy... we need to change our strategies. Clean up this mess. The war for Gotham has just changed its rules.

In the Batcave

The soft sound of the glider retracting echoed off the damp stone walls of the Batcave. Brianna landed on the polished metal floor, removing her hood and letting her hair fall, soaked with sweat and with a pungent smell of smoke and expensive cognac.

With firm and impeccable steps, Alfreda approached, carrying a silver tray with a clean towel and a glass of mineral water.

Alfreda:

— Should I assume the Iceberg Lounge will need a major decor overhaul, Ms. Brianna? Or should I attribute the damage to Ms. Bane's lack of manners?

Brianna, picking up the towel and wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her lip:

— Bane is unpredictable and grotesque, Alfreda. But efficient at absorbing impacts. I had to knock down the central chandelier to buy time.

Alfreda, raising an eyebrow with subtle irony:

— Ah, the 19th-century French crystal chandelier. A tragic loss for the aesthetics of organized crime. And what about Mrs. Odette? Was the message conveyed?

Brianna, her eyes gleaming with icy severity:

— Odette understood the message perfectly. She will no longer touch Wayne Enterprises' assets. Gotham needs to understand that the elite of this city no longer belong to her... now she answers to Michael.

Alfreda, picking up the used towel with impeccable composure:

— Excellent, ma'am. I have already prepared the detailed report with the vulnerable points of Odette's empire and the tactical map of the city. Mr. Michael will be very pleased to know that his detective completed the mission flawlessly. Brianna walked toward the Batcomputer, her cape billowing behind her.

"The mapping of Gotham is only just beginning, Alfreda. Now... show me who the next member of the elite is that we need to neutralize to corner Odette.

(images created by Lawless)