12 12: Don't Cross the Dead End

"This is bullshit," Harley growled.

She'd been testy for a couple of days now. To the point that not even kinky cuckquean-y sex could cheer her up. I couldn't say I blamed her. Especially not with how things had turned out.

The Joker and his threatening promise loomed over our heads. I wasn't scared. None of us were. Not Ivy, Harley, Didi, Freeze, or Nora. Harley would rather kill herself than go back to giving Joker even a modicum of influence over her and Ivy was right there to support her. Nora didn't know any better but Freeze was never one to put much stock in villain politics even when he was active.

Still, the Joker's reputation was well-earned. When he made a promise or a threat or both, people listened. And almost the entirety of Gotham was rightfully scared of the Joker. Leading us to our current problem. The Dead End was dead.

There was just no way anyone from Gotham was going to risk being caught in the Joker's crosshairs. Not even the other villains. Very few people returned to the bar the night after Joker's appearance. The next night there were even fewer. By tonight, only one person outside our little gang of 'employees' showed up.

The bad 'press' had even spread to Ivy's Ivy. The girls (and Freeze) had been forced to close early tonight. The Joker's reputation was just that fearsome. The normal folk who visited my bar heeded it for obvious reasons. But even my regulars — confident in my ability to enforce the bar's neutrality — weren't willing to risk getting caught in the crossfire. Not when it came to the Joker.

I couldn't say they were wrong. Just as certain heroes were favored by existence, so too were villains. And perhaps none more than the Joker himself. The Joker was an embodiment of chaos. Not a Chaos Lord — the eternal enemies of the Lords of Order — but a representation. An ideal that this universe held up to showcase true, unpredictable, uncaring evil.

Despite his relatively low power level, he wasn't a foe that could be easily matched. Not in the traditional way, at least. Then you add in his uncanny ability to cheat Death. And his horrifically unique mind, perspective, and willpower.

What you got was one of the few people who could claim to have killed the majority of the Justice League in one form or another throughout the multiverse. Some might consider him the most dangerous man on Earth. Not for his power, but for the sheer chaos he embodied. In the wider scale of this multiverse, he'd caused more problems for heroes than perhaps anyone else.

So I could certainly understand why the people of Gotham — Joker's home turf — wouldn't want to risk crossing him at all. That didn't make it any less vexing. He'd successfully scored the first blow against me, striking not at my person or Didi or anyone else. No, he struck where he could actually do damage.

My business. My reputation. My guarantee of neutrality. By letting his promise loom over the Dead End as he did, he called my ideal into question.

All of my regulars had heard one of my impressive stories or another. They believed them. From my lips? In my domain? There wasn't any other outcome.

But no one had actually seen me in action yet. And they were all more than familiar with the Joker. This was Gotham. When the Joker showed up, you turned around and power-walked the other way as fast as you could.

It was a gamble between me and him in my customers' minds. Did they believe that I could keep my guarantee of neutrality? That they'd still be safe within my walls? Or did they go with the proven danger and chaos the Joker represented?

Again, this was Gotham. You didn't survive long here by taking gambles like that. Especially not against the Joker. Self-preservation won out with most of my customers. Then the rest allowed caution to sway them. It didn't hurt for them to let things lie for a day or two to see how this turned out.

I knew they'd be back eventually. Some of them, at least. The villains. The OG regulars. That wasn't good enough for me. My reputation had been brought under fire by the Joker.

He'd already gotten past my domain's defenses once (not that it would ever happen again unless I let it). He'd promised danger to my customers. In doing so, he shadowed doubt on my guarantee, on my honor, on my dream of a safe neutral ground.

It couldn't be allowed to stand. I agreed with Harley. This was BULLSHIT.

"I can't say I'm surprised by this outcome. It's the Joker," Vicki said.

She was the only one still willing to visit the Dead End. She really was willing to do anything for fame and fortune, it seemed. Not a terrible trait to have. Especially when it made her defy the most terrifying man in Gotham.

"She's right," Ivy sighed. "We should have expected this much."

With no customers and nothing to do, five of us — me, Didi, Vicki, Ivy, and Harley — crowded together at the bar. Freeze and Nora had been allowed to go home early in consideration with Ivy's shop being just as dead.

The brooding was heavy over our little group, mostly from me and Harley. Though, surprisingly, Didi contributed to it as well.

"That man is horrible. Deplorable," Didi frowned tightly. "Just unconscionably contemptible. He should have died a long time ago."

"Welcome to the club, Didi. We hate stupid, unfunny clowns and we have cookies," Harley grumbled.

"The Joker needs to die," I said, plain and simple. "I can't let him get away with challenging the Dead End like that. And luckily, I'm not going to let myself be restrained by a code of morals like our hometown heroes are."

Harley perked up at my words. Ivy spoke first, "What about your neutrality, Sean?"

"He fucked with the Swiss," I grinned savagely. "You never fuck with the Swiss without finding out that neutrality doesn't mean the same thing as pacifism."

"Dibs~!" Harley called out eagerly. She was practically vibrating and grinning so wide at my words that her lips looked like they were about to pop off her face.

I shook my head, "You can have the first shot. I'm going to make sure he stays dead this time. Well, me and Didi."

"Didi?" Vicki cocked her head. "Even with the recent darker showings of her personality and the specific animosity she holds toward the Joker, I can't really see her killing someone."

"She's not the one doing the killing," I smirked knowingly at her. "She's the one who makes sure he stays dead."

Vicki still didn't look convinced. Didi sighed, "Perhaps I should introduce myself more formally…"

She held out a hand to the rest of the girls, "You know me as Didi. I've gone by other names before. End. Ruin. Quietus. Miss Demise… Lady Death. I am Death of the Endless. And I very much hope this information does not change anything about our friendships…"

A sliver of Endless existence leaked out of Didi with her words. It washed over the bar, leaving not a single ounce of doubt alive. All three of the girls sat back in their bar chairs.

Vicki paled. Her hands shook, "That… uh, that would do it."

Harley adapted surprisingly quickly to Didi's reveal, grinning wide once again, "So you're really going to take care of that bastard for good, Didi~?"

Didi nodded, "He's evaded my embrace for much too long. That's why I'm so… unkind… when it comes to him. With Sean acting as my Hand, I will finally be able to right the wrong that is his existence."

"Oh, yeah~…" Harley shuddered with eager anticipation. "That's what I'm talkin' about~ Didi, I'm straight up going to marry you after this is over, girl."

Didi jumped slightly, reacting with a start, "M-Marry me?! You're… not mad? Afraid? Begging me to not take your eternal soul?"

"Didi," Ivy cut in. "I think we can safely say we know you pretty well now. Especially, after the nights we've shared with the same insufferably skilled man. This may change how we view you but it doesn't change how we feel about you."

"Yeah~!" Harley chimed. "We're sisters in mind-breaking sex~! A little thing like Death isn't going to break that bond~!"

"You guys are getting mind-breaking sex?" Vicki sounded utterly lost and a little comedically pathetic.

"Awwww~!" Harley giggled, latching onto Vicki and turning puppy dog eyes onto me. "Can we keep her, Gothboy~? Can we~? Can we~?"

I rolled my eyes with a chuckle, "Now, that's not up to me, is it? Ask your wifey, Harley."

She immediately turned to Ivy with those puppy dog eyes still in full effect. Strangely, Ivy barely acknowledged her. She was lost in consideration, thinking about something. Harley knew when her jokes and bits weren't welcome. She calmed down almost instantly, asking, "Red?"

Ivy blinked, looking up to find us all staring at her. Slowly, she put her thoughts into words, "You know… I don't want to make anyone think I'm against the idea — Mother Nature knows I'm not — but killing the Joker won't solve all our problems."

"Just the vast, vast majority of them," Harley agreed, nodding sagely.

Ivy chuckled and continued, "But there's still the matter of the Dead End's neutrality. We need a way to reassert it. A way to show, even when the Joker is still alive, that we won't be intimidated. It's about sending a message that our neutrality will exist even if we don't act against future threats."

"It's not a bad idea, Gothboy," Harley added. "Villainy is all about sending messages. If you're serious about this neutrality business, you gotta do more than just protect it. You gotta show that it's strong enough to survive without you defending it personally."

"I'm not a villain," I said absently, thinking over the rest of their points.

Harley waved her hand so-so, "Ehhhhh… Ya kinda are. You're a Rogue at the very least. Definitely part of the cape scene, even if you don't take part in the usual shenanigans there."

"Fine," I shook my head fondly. "Now, where do we start with sending this message?"

"I was thinking something expressly neutral. Perhaps you could extend the bar for use as a venue? Put it to work as neutral ground and invite the regulars to squash any lingering beef they might have with each other. The message would spread from them. And when the Joker inevitably turns up to crash the party, we can take care of him for good in front of everybody."

"Oh~! A villain tea parlay party~!" Harley clapped excitedly. "With a side of dead clown~! I'll get the fine china so I can break it in Joker's stupid, smug face~!"

"I, uh, I may have just the thing to base this parlay around," Vicki offered hesitantly. "I don't know if any of you realize it but the city's kinda, sorta on the verge of all-out gang warfare after the Arkham breakout… You might — MIGHT — want to do something to prevent that."

I blinked. When was the last time I left my domain here in the Dead End? "Oh… Oh, yeah, that might be a good idea."

IIIII

Jason Todd had the target in his sights. Just a touch to the left… and the shot would be… perfect.

An exhale pushed the air from his lungs. He held them empty for a moment. His finger began to squeeze on the trigger of his rifle. Slow, smooth, steady…

Something caused him to flinch and abort his shot at the last moment. The barrel of his rifle was shoved sky-high in a way Jason was infuriatingly familiar with these days. The shortest fully grown male of the Bat Family glared at him. Jason glared right back from beneath his full-cover mask.

"You have GOT to stop shooting people, Jason!" Tim Drake hissed.

All Jason could do at this point was roll his eyes. This was an old argument between them. Ever since Jason had somewhat reconciled with Batman and the rest of the Batfam, Tim had made it his mission to get him to stop killing people.

And with Tim, that meant 100 percent effort, all the time. He worked hard for everything he had and he deserved way more recognition than he usually got.

Even just his physique showed that much. Tim wasn't built like a fighter. Or, at least, he shouldn't have been built like a fighter. But he was. Through sheer hard work, pain, sweat, and fight, he sculpted himself into someone who could keep up with Batman. Jason wasn't too proud to admit that Tim was easily the one he found most admirable out of all of the Robins. 

Dick was the first and people tended to think that made him the most responsible. But anyone who'd spent time with him knew how much of a drama queen and slut he could be. Seriously, Dick quite literally couldn't stop thinking with his dick sometimes. And don't even get Jason started on Dick's pratfalls… Dick's time in the Flying Graysons was certainly put to good work in his sense of humor.

Damian was still growing into his own. So only time would tell with him. Like all of them, he had issues of his own to work through.

Jason himself… He was walking a different path now. One laid before him by Death. One paved in bricks of pain, fury, and vengeance. One that he alone could walk. He didn't think he deserved to be considered Robin anymore.

He'd also be the first to admit that Tim was much, much smarter than him. And Jason knew he was no slouch when it came to intelligence. Tim just blew him out of the water. Shortstack was a bonafide genius.

But having that determined, responsible, hardworking brain turned against him was a pain in the ass. He barely killed a criminal a month these days! Tim always seemed to be there to stop him short, fueled by pure caffeine and stubborn morality.

Jason didn't want to stop! Some of these people just deserved to die! And someone had to kill them. He'd much rather it be him than any of the other Bats. Doing what he did might very well break them… But Jason couldn't stand by as lost causes were given chance after chance.

Like Jason's current target. Victor Zsasz. If anyone deserved to die as much as the Joker, it was him. The instant he got out of Arkham Tower, he went right back to his serial murder spree.

Compared to most of the other escapees, Zsasz took precedence for Jason. He was blatantly hurting people, unlike Grundy or Croc. So far, two new tally-like cuts had appeared on Zsasz's skin. He'd already killed twice and they hadn't been able to catch him or pin him down.

Jason wasn't going to let that stand if he could do anything to stop it. While the others equally focused on all of the villains causing trouble since the breakout, Jason focused only on Zsasz. This was the first time he'd caught up to him and had a chance to put an end to him once and for all. Only for that chance to be ruined by Batman's goddamn code.

"Don't you have a cup of coffee to mainline straight into your bloodstream?" Jason sniped.

"I'll have you know my suit is equipped with a device to do just that," Tim said matter-of-factly.

Jason barely resisted the urge to facepalm, "Tim… I was joking."

"You should know I don't joke around with my caffeine. But you're changing the subject. Stop. Shooting. People."

"He's a literal serial killer! Nothing about him is redeemable! He doesn't want to repent or change. And unlike you, I'm not willing to try for him of all people. I won't give that monster any more chances."

"It doesn't matter, Jason. We don't kill people. We're heroes, not executioners."

"I'm not 'we'," Jason said firmly. "Not anymore."

"You'll always be one of us, you utter asshat!" Tim shouted.

Jason looked away, not showing how rare it was to hear that sort of thing from Tim. Tim was notoriously… prickly. He was sarcastic and quick with wit and humor. His words were usually pointed and biting. He didn't show affection easily and when he did it was usually out of frustration or it was so subtle most missed it.

Damn… There must be some sand in his eye. Or maybe it was raining. His helmet's environmental sealing must be off. He had to get that looked at. Rare moments like this reminded Jason why he was glad to be alive-… No, repress, don't think about it.

This wasn't the time or the place. The moment he let himself stop repressing would be the moment he faltered. And Jason couldn't afford to be anything but the Hood. Not when a monster like Zsasz roamed free. Not when the Joker still hadn't suffered for everything he'd done.

"Whatever…" Jason growled. "If you won't let me take care of him for good, then at least help me take him down now."

"I'm more than fine with that," Tim agreed but held out a hand. "Give me your guns first. You're just going to try and shoot him while we capture him."

"I'm no-…" He was and they both knew it. "Oh, shut up. I'm not going to apologize. He deserves much worse than a quick death."

"That's not for us to decide. Your guns, Jason. Quickly. Before he gets away," Tim said, holding firm.

Despite being more than half a foot shorter than him, Tim sure cut a domineering figure. Almost patronizing, really. He must have learned it from Bruce.

Jason grumbled but conceded, "Here, I'll stash them on the roof. Happy?"

Tim sighed, "Not without, like, twice the caffeine I currently have in my body."

"You have a problem, you know that, Shortstack?" Jason couldn't help but snort in humor.

"No, I have a solution," Tim said. "And that solution is more caffeine."

Shaking his head, Jason did what he said he would, stashing his firearms on the roof. Luckily, Zsasz hadn't gotten away yet. He was giggling maniacally to himself and sharpening a blade that was so rusty Jason could tell from here.

God, how had that monster not died of an infection already? He had to have ALL the diseases. His corpse would probably be a biohazard. Jason was almost thankful for Tim stopping him so he wouldn't have to deal with that mess. Almost…

Together, Jason and Tim ran across the few rooftops that separated them from their target before dropping down right on his head. Zsasz barely got a chance to react. One moment, he was planning his next murder. The next, he was being flattened by 225 and 135 pounds of hero.

He tried to put up a fight. He even got a few good slashes in with that disgusting weapon of his. They didn't manage to penetrate Jason's thick leather jacket, much less the armored costume underneath it.

Jason fought like a cross between a linebacker and a ballerina — unstoppable and graceful. Tim was a pint-sized demon, somehow taking Batman's overwhelming style and applying it to his much smaller frame. Jason knew what it was like to fight Tim. Even against his disadvantaged size, you never felt fully in control of the fight.

Before too long, Zsasz was subdued and trussed up on the pavement of the alley he'd been 'hiding' in. Monofilament Batrope as strong as steel held Zsasz helpless. His legs were tied together and his torso was restrained like a straitjacket without the jacket. He wiggled like a worm but couldn't get free at all.

"You fa******! You abso-fu*****-lute co**sucking di**fu****' motherfu***** cu***! I'll skin your co*** off!" Zsasz raged with language that could have made a sailor blush.

Tim just rolled his eyes, "Yeah, it's time for you to go night, night, idiot."

A textbook pressure point strike silenced Zsasz's colorful cursing. Tim followed it up with a (un)necessary donkey punch to the back of the head.

"And you think you're so much better than me," Jason muttered with rolled eyes. Then he smirked at Tim smugly, "You know, not to say I told you so but~… If we just killed him, we wouldn't have had to listen to his garbage."

"You can shut right up too," Tim grumbled. "I'm still not going to let you kill anyone. No matter how convenient it might be."

"Aww~ Trying to save my soul, Shortstack? You love me, don't you?" Jason teased.

"Like I love disorganized files," Tim deadpanned.

Jason's grin grew, "Isn't file organization what you tend to do with your free time?"

"I don't see how that's relevant."

The two former Robins bickered goodnaturedly as they went about putting Zsasz back where he belonged. Well, Jason was of the opinion that he belonged six feet under but he couldn't win them all. He was willing to let this one go since Tim had fought so hard for it. With someone he held a personal grudge against like the Joker, this would have been a different story.

Elsewhere, throughout the city, Gotham's underground was experiencing something of a criminal renascence. The phenomenon was sparked by the recent breakout, fueled by the movements of certain villains, and fanned by the temporary lack of a place for criminals to unwind. Everyone was back to what they were doing before the Dead End opened and they were quickly coming to find they missed the neutral ground bar.

It was rare for criminals to have a place like the Dead End. A place where they didn't have to worry about little things like what colors they wore or whether the guy beside them would try to slide a knife between their ribs. Gotham's underbelly had been spoiled with the Dead End recently.

Now, they were back on the streets during the worst times of the night. And all the other mooks and goons and thugs were as well. Some returned to their regular routine of stickups and petty crimes. Others gathered under the banners of their villains.

All of them quickly discovered the tension that had taken over the city while they were 'away'. It had begun with the breakout from Arkham. A flood of Mad villains were released onto the streets. Most didn't do anything harmful. A few did.

With their attention not preoccupied with an impossible bar and its barkeep, criminals and villains alike were able to focus back on the overall scene of Gotham's underground. A few key faces had made their reappearances.

Maxie Zeus was back, still claiming to be the Greek God he took his name from. Only now, something about him had gone a bit Mad. Madder than before. For a man with a quite literal God Complex, that was saying something.

No one could tell quite what was going on with Maxie. Maybe Zeus really had lent him a portion of his divine might. The way he was slinging real lightning bolts around without assistance now certainly made that a possibility for once.

Whatever the reason, Maxie Zeus had real power behind him now. And he wasted no time using that power to establish his new mythos. A new gang emerged in Gotham overnight. The Olympians, led by Maxie Zeus and his Mad new power. They were taking territory and shaking up the status quo that Gotham's gangs had enjoyed for so long. And the newly-founded Olympians were just the tip of the proverbial iceberg…

It seemed that their caution-enforced break from the Dead End couldn't have come at a better time for the already-established villains and gang leaders. They were able to focus on the Madly changing crimescape of Gotham.

Bane, Penguin, and Two-Face whipped their boys and girls into shape. They could feel a struggle coming. They were the villains with the main gangs in the city, other than the Joker. They held territory, offered protection, and skirmished with each other as proper gangs should.

Penguin and his Bird Gang owned the Iceberg Lounge and the area surrounding it. Two-Face held an old abandoned courthouse in the city's East End, basing his operations out of it. Bane occupied many different territories throughout Gotham, acting as a balance for the other two.

Penguin's 'business' was heavily into gambling and racketeering. Two-Face dealt with fraud and some of the more violent services for hire. Bane used his spread-out base of power in the city to facilitate his investment in the drug trade.

The Joker and his Clownz were their own beast. They held a small amount of territory around the old Ace Chemical factory. When the Joker was free, they were a force to be reckoned with. When he wasn't, they were — quite frankly — jokes.

The villain gangs didn't stand by themselves. The Cobblepot family's wealth was heavily suspected of bankrolling Penguin's operations, though no one could prove it with how thoroughly Penguin covered his tracks. There were rumors that Two-Face still had dirty connections in the legal world. And Bane wasn't shy about his connections with the Mexican Cartels that supplied the product he turned into so much illegal profit.

They also weren't alone in the city. Gotham was no stranger to criminal organizations. The only real difference with the villain gangs was just that. They were led and backed by villains. More traditional criminal empires still occupied the majority of Gotham's 'market share'.

The Triads were an ever-present threat, especially in Gotham's Chinatown. The Cartels had something of a presence in the city, though they mainly operated through proxies like Bane. The Russian mob had a heavy stranglehold over non-drug-related smuggling in Gotham. Plenty of American-based gangs had representation that could be found in Gotham's dark streets. And then there were the crime families…

The Bertinellis, the Maronis, the Dimitrovs, the Sabatinos, and first among them, the Falcones. All together, they made up the majority of Gotham's underground. Even in Gotham, villains were the rarity rather than the norm. They just happened to get the most attention from the masses, for obvious reasons.

The crime families of Gotham liked to 'lay low'. They let the villains take most of the heat while they flew under the radar to stick their fingers in as many pies as they could. Of course, it wasn't a waterproof strategy.

They certainly hadn't escaped the attention of the Bat or his family. Batman knew more about the crime families than they probably suspected or wanted him to. He was more than aware of their actions and how they did much more harm to Gotham than their villainous counterparts. More often than not, he was willing to let a villain escape to focus on the more traditional criminals.

Still, the crime families eeked out a comfortable existence. Batman was only one man. He couldn't be everywhere at once. And so, even with the losses of operating in his city, they persisted and profited. Villains were the public face of Gotham's crimescape. The crime families were where the real money was.

The villains weren't the only ones to sense the changes from the Mad Arkham breakout. The crime families were gearing up for war as well. And when they went to war, they didn't limit things to other villains.

While the Olympians were the new gang on the block, they weren't where the sense of tension in the city was coming from. Batman and his family were busy chasing villains. All the while, the crime families were just itching for an excuse. And with the Mad Breakout, they may have found it.

Again, not in the Olympians or Maxie Zeus. As far as they were concerned, he was just another villain. No, someone more dangerous had escaped from Arkham with the Mad Breakout. Black Mask was the best of both worlds. A villain and a more traditional crime lord packed into one deranged man.

He knew how to run an organized criminal empire to rival the crime families. At the same time, he was as unpredictable and insane as any other villain. Black Mask was the only competition that the crime families actually feared outside of their own kind.

The crime families' 'civil' game of Robber vs. Robber was in jeopardy. Black Mask was back and he was coming out swinging. In just a few days, he'd built himself a foundation. Rekindled his old criminal connections. Established a base of power. And most worryingly, recruited himself a new troupe of Masks.

His Masks were something special. Terrifying to any mundane criminal and formidable to even the Bat Family. They wore masks, to no one's surprise. Masks that controlled their minds — washing them clean and instilling undying loyalty to Black Mask alone.

At the same time, the masks uploaded impossibly developed skills directly into their wearer's minds. Black Masks troupe of Masks was a force to be reckoned with. Beyond expert marksmen. Martial artists who could compete against the greatest in their fields. Thieves and burglars who were skilled enough to defeat any mundane security system.

They were the elite of Black Mask's organization. The backbone of his empire. But they weren't alone. Even now, Black Mask was gathering more mundane forces to his criminal banner. Soon, he would be ready to drive Gotham into an all-out gang war so he could come out on top and rule its underground once and for all.

He had the know-how. He had the drive and ruthlessness required of a true crime lord, not just a villain. He had a knack for organized crime. Black Mask acted as an existential threat to Gotham's established crime families.

He had connections from his days before Arkham. Connections that came from ruling over even the crime families, no matter how temporary that period was. At one point in time, before Batman put him away in Arkham, Black Mask held strings in every single one of Gotham's gangs.

Now that he was out again, he was quickly proving to be even more competent than the first time. The Maronis had already fallen. Black Mask had taken their heir under his control, fitting him with a mask. With the family's heir as leverage, he brought the Maronis under his sway through blackmail. When the family's crime lord tried to resist, Black Mask killed him and took over the rest of the family with a show of force and his 'alliance' with the family's heir.

The other crime families of Gotham were understandably on guard now. Black Mask had all but infiltrated their ranks again by usurping the Maronis and killing one of their own in 'Big Lou' Maroni. He was a threat they were more than willing to go to war over, forming strained and temporary alliances with each other to present a 'united front'.

It seemed that Gotham would have another round of War Games on its hands. While Batman and his allies knew about what was going on, they couldn't hope to stop it at this point. Not without an opening and a lever large enough to move the moon. The ball was already rolling.

Until… it wasn't. A momentary stutter went out, 'heard' across the city. The villains heard it first but the more mundanely dangerous crime lords weren't far behind. Sighs of relief were exhaled in lairs across Gotham, some more cautious and distrustful than others. But still, the tension in the city was overtaken by a sense of tentative agreement.

The Dead End had spoken. It called for parlay. Or as Harley put it, 'a villain tea parlay party~!'. And with due consideration given to the reputation Sean and his bar had built, Gotham's underground lords listened.

There was still the Joker's threat to consider. But no self-respecting lord would allow themselves to be intimidated by a jester. The call for parlay was accepted. The white flag was waved by Gotham's lords and villains. The Dead End was set as neutral ground once more.

It was the first step toward reasserting the Dead End's vaunted neutrality. The first step to reinforcing that rain or shine, Joker or Batman, the Dead End would act as a neutral party. A mediator, even.

The higher-ups — villains and crime lords — would confirm it for themselves. From them, the news would trickle down to the lieutenants, mooks, goons, and thugs who — by large — wouldn't attend the parlay.

No one was under the illusion that the meeting would go 100 percent smoothly. Fights over old grudges were bound to break out and the Joker crashing the party was a guarantee. But the Dead End had a reputation for keeping the peace within its walls.

If — when — the Joker showed up… Well, crime lords lived and died on face and reputation. They couldn't run scared of a clown. They'd just have to show him why they ran Gotham. And more than a few of the villains were tired of his shit. With the prospect of a neutral mediator for potential future disputes on the table, everyone attending was more than ready to give Joker the welcome he deserved.

By the time the call for parlay reached Black Mask's ears, everyone else had already agreed. Peer pressure and face forced his hand, even as he scratched his head in confusion.

"Who the Hell is Mr. Barkeep?!"