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fordarkisthesuede · 3 months

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Fangs of Ouroboros - Chapter 3 - The Carrot and the Stick

I meant to say this in the beginning of the year, but as usual stuff kept getting in the way, so I'll say it now:

THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT IN 2023!!! ｡･+ﾟﾟ(うд´｡)ﾟﾟ+･｡ 💖💖💖💖💖

Last time on The Snake Goes Round 'n' Round:

Tiffany and John worked together to investigate the explosive that destroyed the office of a PI with a connection to Lady Arkham, discovering the bomber is connected to a very publicized 5-year-old murder. Deciding to see if they can get a firm ID out of a short list of candidates, they head to Blackgate Prison disguised as lawyers...

And now, we rejoin Bruce as he heads off to see what The Agency wants with Wayne Enterprises...

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Bruce drummed the steering wheel as the motor idled in the early morning traffic. It would get worse in twenty minutes, when everyone left for their 8 o’clock shifts at the same time.

His mind kept drifting back to the explosion. How Oz didn’t seem to know one of his men was dead. How strangely well-timed it seemed with the weird murder-game Joker had made upstairs. Those stupid notes. How in his own words John had said he would do that kind of thing just to mess with him…

Not that he actually suspected John of being behind it. If he had used real bodies in that room, then… But of course he hadn’t. And he couldn’t picture John, who took pride in putting his own ‘Joker’ signature on everything he made, not making the bomb himself. Let alone not taking credit for it. Or putting glitter in it.

And it made Bruce wonder: if it wasn’t the world’s greatest coincidence that a detective linked to a nefarious terrorist would have an attempt on his life botched horribly - or else just his work destroyed - then could someone have been following John to make it seem like the two things were related?

He could feel the locker key he’d gotten from Joker’s “crime scene” burning a hole in his breast pocket. It felt like a longshot, but if that was true, then whoever had followed John to the old building could have followed him elsewhere. They might know the next step. They might know the whole game. Which meant either of them could be waltzing into a trap.

Bruce clenched his teeth and turned sharp enough to barely avoid the curb as he sorted through his mental map of Gotham. St. Dymphna’s was close to a Skyrail station, which was the best bet for John’s choice…

But technically, it was the victim’s locker he was looking for. The crime scene was closer to the red line, but it was possible. Bruce recalled seeing a gym around the same area, but it would be harder to get to.

That said, he didn’t really see the joke in choosing a gym locker. It was rare, but it was logical for a normal person who took the Skyrail often to rent out one of the lockers for longer than a day. Or else they had gotten a copy for a locker they’d rigged to no longer open. And there was something funny about keeping valuables locked up in a public space.

After years of studying the city’s maps and acting as Batman, Bruce knew every back-route in Gotham big enough for his car. Weaving into alleys and side-streets came second-nature.

The Skyrail station was surprisingly quiet for the early morning, with only a few bleary-eyed people hauling up and down the stairs and only one using the old elevator. Bruce suspected that much like regular traffic, it would get a lot busier in about ten or fifteen minutes. He slipped on the pair of aviator sunglasses that John had once again left in the car, hoping no one would recognize him. At least the lockers were at the bottom level.

The little key didn’t have a number stamped on it. There were only so many lockers available, and the station had elected to get rid of the availability lights to prevent theft. Not that it always helped, as evidenced by the obvious dents. He’d have to guess.

John’s choice would probably be 8, as the lockers didn’t go past 30. The crime scene took place in room 12 on the third floor. And the invitation had been stamped on the 19th, the day before yesterday. (Or was it that today was supposed to be significant?)

He decided to try 8 - the key didn’t budge. It would look suspicious to try them all… Since it was truly the victim’s key, it would have to be something they could remember easily. And since Bruce didn’t have so much as a name to go by…

Locker 12 opened with a ka-dink. It was small and square, holding a plain plastic shopping bag with a folder advertising funeral services peeking out on top.

Bruce saw no harm in going through the bag’s contents. He pulled out a thin stack of paper from a manila folder - it looked like the owner (likely the male victim from the crime scene) had sold up most of their stock portfolio over the past few months. The names’ acronyms stood out to him as if he’d dealt with them before, but he couldn’t remember the context.

The name on the trades was different from the bank statement showing some hefty withdrawals from a joint account named for a group. Why ‘Arnold Palmer’ needed another two-hundred thousand dollars from ‘Three Lime Twists’ was an easy thing to guess - he was going to run away.

The paper trail John had laid out was just that; if the ‘Three Lime Twists’ group were set to get revenge and their money back, then they must’ve discovered where it all went. The natural thing would’ve been to put it in the wife’s account, but that normally wouldn’t be accessible to anyone else - and it would be quite difficult to check, despite the number and bank looking legitimate…

The folder from The Balm of Our Hearts held flyers for different services and plot availability in Gotham’s cemeteries, including maps. Nothing was circled, but the significance of including them at all made Bruce’s synapses spark.

Of course… The extracted funds could all be physical. It would be so much like John, who loved finding hiding places, to create such an elaborate one in a place where few people walked and where any shovel work would seem natural.

As for what exactly was buried and in which cemetery… I’m going to have to do some digging, he thought, feeling a smile tug on his lips. Heh… John would’ve loved that.

The only other item in the bag was a small black jewelry box with Noir Velours stamped on it - a top of the line jeweler that Bruce had used himself.

He was half-surprised to see an actual ring in it. A sapphire almost as large as his fingernail shone in-between what may have been black spinel on a platinum band that seemed too thick and large for a woman's hand. In fact, it looked like it would fit him.

Could the male victim from the apartment have been planning on running away with a man? Maybe that was why the killer didn’t stop by the locker - the wife didn’t know about it. Outside of the fact that they couldn’t have been able to anyway, as they only existed as an idea in this game… The idea of the male vic’ planning to kill his wife wasn’t off the table yet.

Or maybe the killer was some kind of third member of the relationship who decided he’d had enough…? But then again, the dinner table would’ve been set for three…

Maybe he was overthinking the ring’s purpose. It could be a clue just by itself: an expensive piece of jewelry kept out of the way from the apartment. Which meant it would have had to go elsewhere, and the most convenient place for it was the stop along the way.

And considering the few leads he had, it was likely the same cemetery Bruce would have to go dig in.

Bruce shut the locker and began the short trek back to the car, bag in hand, feeling a buzz of excitement still prickle in his brain despite knowing he’d soon have to face the reality waiting for him in his office.

🜃

The Agency were being subtle this time, at least. He would’ve hardly recognized Iman’s old partner in the casual business suit if it weren’t for his shoes; hard caps for the toes were difficult to slim down in any design.

“Mr. Wayne, glad you could join us,” Agent Vernon Blake greeted as Bruce shut the conference room door behind him. Iman Avesta was seated at the large conference table in a navy blue pantsuit. The room was otherwise empty.

“Looks like this is a private party,” Bruce commented dryly, “Where’s our security personnel? The other department heads?”

“We’ve already discussed the necessary precautions to be taken with your security teams,” Agent Blake said, “This debriefing is just for you and Miss Avesta. She insisted on briefing everyone else separately.”

Thank Iman for small favors, Bruce thought, mouthing ‘thank you’ as he walked around Agent Blake’s back. He’d hate to have the rest of the company side-eying him for what he presumed was another by-product of a criminal association. He could practically hear the clucking about low stocks and bad publicity from the board, who already were tempted to axe him for his engagement announcement alone.

“To get straight to the point,” Agent Blake said, swiping his tablet (from one of the Wayne’s own tech divisions, Bruce noticed) to cast the projection of his screen to the television on the wall, “we’re here because of your association with Victor Fries.”

The meeting room’s extra-wide screen showed a screen-capture of security footage taken from the basement of the SANCTUS facility, where Bruce could be seen talking to a newly-infected Victor behind the glass of the temperature-controlled chamber.

“Since you effectively saved him from the LOTUS virus, Mr. Fries had been in our custody.”

Had. The word stuck out like a clean window in the Narrows. Bruce knew exactly where this was going. “And now he’s escaped.”

Agent Blake glanced at him. “Yes.” The image changed to footage of what looked like a laboratory. Victor Fries, still clad in his red goggles and metallic low-temperature suit, bore a familiar collar around his neck that was undoubtedly fitted with explosives. “We allowed him to continue working on the cure for his wife’s illness in exchange for us studying his body’s incubation of LOTUS. At approximately 1:05 this morning -”

In the video, everything happened at once: the chemical vials on the table in the background exploded, causing another scientist and the armed guard in the corner to scramble to put it out while Victor made a dash for the door.

“- Mr. Fries caused a lab accident.”

The bubbling beaker Victor had been working with exploded with something white-hot, and the camera footage switched to a hallway, showing Victor throwing his collar aside and slipping into a large door.

“He somehow managed to fix the features of his suit we’d disabled and froze off his restraining collar. He broke into the testing room, froze two of our technicians, and escaped with a prototype freeze-ray and Nora Fries’ cryo-tube.”

Bruce watched as a group of security personnel dashed down the hall, only to get frozen in place by what looked like a ray gun straight off a 50’s pulp novel. Victor wheeled his wife’s frozen holding tank behind him.

“How did he leave the facility?” Iman asked as the image was replaced with an aerial map of Gotham.

Agent Blake tapped his thumb on the edge of the tablet and pursed his lips. “He stole one of our transport trucks and froze the controls for the doors on his way out. He ditched the truck and stole a rental van from a gas station while the driver was getting a lottery ticket.”

Bruce studied the map. All of the city’s warehouses, factories, and laboratory buildings with cold room storage were marked with red dots. Naturally, Wayne Enterprises’ had their pharmaceutical manufacturing facility in the mix, but Wayne Tower was also marked. “Why do you think he’d come here?” Bruce asked, already knowing the answer.

“Victor Fries is not in his right mind anymore, Mr. Wayne. The LOTUS virus has affected him the same way it affected Edward Nygma.” Agent Blake met Iman’s gaze with a look Bruce could only attribute to regret and comradery through the memory of their last case together. “You may have betrayed him in the Pact, but you practically saved his life. He might try to get your help.”

Bruce wasn’t so sure of that. The man was a natural-born loner, only working with the Pact out of necessity. Much like Bruce himself. And he knew Victor was too intelligent to try to seek him out. He’d be far more likely to leave him alone out of gratitude.

“And I’m assuming The Agency would like my help.”

Agent Blake avoided looking at him or Iman, but stared down at the tablet as he typed something. “We’d like your cooperation, Mr. Wayne. If Victor Fries makes any attempt at contact with you, we’d like to know about it. And naturally,” he added, his focus returning to Bruce’s hard stare, “we’ve already negotiated all necessary access with your security team for the suspected locations under your name.”

“What about the other Pact members?” Iman asked, keeping her hands folded on the table. “Do you think he’ll try to engage them at all?”

“They’re not a concern,” the agent waved away, “We’ve already checked with Blackgate Prison. Dr. Harleen Quinzel and ‘Bane’ are in secure wings and haven’t received any correspondence from anyone besides their legal representation - which we’ve naturally crosschecked. Even if he could contact them, we can’t see any reason to. We don’t feel any sufficient motive for him contacting John Doe, either.”

“Napier,” Bruce corrected. “And he betrayed the Pact, too; by helping me.”

“We’re well aware of your relationship, Mr. Wayne.” The meeting room monitor reverted back to its default image of the Wayne Enterprises logo. “As I’m sure you’re aware of how precious time is in these cases. If you or any of your associates find Mr. Fries before we do,” he emphasized with a hard stare back at Bruce as he slipped a contact card on the table, “it’s in everyone’s best interest to alert us first. The battery powering his suit only lasts so long; and when it runs out, he’ll become highly infectious.”

Bruce knew what would happen if he rejected any of this: he would not only get tailed anyway, but Amanda Waller would have another reason to spill his secret at the nearest opportunity. He ignored the childish urge to tear up the card, sliding it into his breast pocket instead. He’d have to check it and his car later for any tracking devices.

“Vernon,” Iman added with an unexpected softness, “I know you can’t tell me any details, but… Just how useful is Victor Fries to the Agency?”

The agent lost the firm look he had with Bruce. He didn’t answer straight away. “It depends on who you ask,” he said slowly. “If you went to Waller, she’d say he was top priority. Anderson and Duchovny would say differently.” Agent Blake closed the tablet case with a sense of finality. “You know where you can reach me,” he said, directed far more at Iman than at Bruce.

The door clicked shut. “Those names mean anything to you?”

“Two associate directors in the Agency,” Iman explained, propping her chin on her folded hands. “They were never Waller’s biggest fans, but they keep quiet when she gets results. The fact that she’s desperate to have Fries back says whatever research they have into the incubating LOTUS isn’t conclusive.”

“That freeze-gun he had was different from the one he had before,” Bruce added, “They must be reverse-engineering his weapons, too.”

“That wouldn’t be worth hunting him down over.”

“No, but it might be part of it. Waller’s not one for letting things go.”

Iman leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in thought. “I’d be surprised if she wasn’t in the city, at least. I doubt she’d give someone the opportunity to slip up on re-capturing one of her projects if it was this important to her.”

That was if they could really take Agent Blake at his word. Iman seemed to trust him, but how much of that was an old sense of comradery versus actual reason?

“Oh, speaking of,” Iman added, turning to him, “you got here later than I thought you’d be. Did something happen?”

Bruce didn’t see any reason in telling her the truth. He wasn’t sure how much she or Tiffany knew about the game John had created, but he couldn’t picture either of them encouraging it in any way. “Sorry. I just had to make a quick stop,” he answered, unable to banish the image of Joker grinning at him from the old television screen.

“Oh. I thought you might have been dropping off John. I doubted he’d want to be alone at the manor with the Agency in town…”

Bruce brought up his own map of the city on his phone, marking the same locations the Agency had marked as potential hideouts for Fries. “He’s hitching a ride to work with Tiffany. Can you give me a patch into the camera system for WE RX?”

“You want it direct? I could just get you a web login.”

“Direct is easier if I’m going to be watching several locations at once,” Bruce explained, standing to retreat to his office for a few moments before he would get stuck at the next meeting on his calendar. “We need to find him before they can.”

“Not that I don’t agree, but for which reason in particular?”

The Agency had already been treating Fries like a captured animal; and while it was true Bruce didn’t want to know what they would do to him upon his recapture, true that he didn’t want the virus he’d worked to eliminate have a chance to return, and that there may have been a crumb of truth in not wanting to be beaten to the punch by the likes of them…

It was the sticking point about Fries that Harley Quinn had summed up rather succinctly, once. “Because as someone once put it, the only thing he gives two hoots about is his wife,” Bruce quoted, mimicking Harley’s voice without her clear tone of disdain. “Either Victor found a cure for Nora Fries, or he’s missing something to finish it. And Waller won’t care what happens to her if they take him back.”

“I’m glad we’re thinking alike,” Iman said with a slight smile, “It reminds me of why I volunteered for the Pact case to begin with, Batman.” Iman tugged her suit straight. “I should be able to patch you into the camera feed in about fifteen minutes. Robin’s cracking program should make quick work of the other feeds; I’ll take half of them if you want.”

“That’d be a huge help,” Bruce said honestly, “I’m going to check for any abandoned cold rooms that weren’t marked on that map. I doubt Fries will want to make too much of a scene.”

Iman gave a single, sardonic little hah. “Between our team and this city’s penchant for themed criminals, that would certainly make a nice change.”

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Notes:

I really wanted to finish this piece before the end of 2023. That did not go as planned. (Then again, that last third of the year took a weird-ass turn, and I’m still trying to navigate myself back to the road.) I have a little over half of the next chapter done because it was originally going to be here, but then I realized I hated having to backtrack scenes and then skip around, so it was easier to just make things in the proper order, even if the sudden character switching would be a little weird to “play”. Season 4 sure was easier!

Onto funner stuff: Bruce has no real choice in following Joker’s game. He just pretends he does. At least his reasoning in the villainous path makes a tad more sense... And speaking of, “your” choices at the end could lead to telling Iman about Joker’s murder-game, regardless of his status with the Bat-fam. The villain!Joker path would naturally cause Iman to be concerned about both you and the city, but in our vigilante!Joker path, you’d get a special relationship notification: “Iman Avesta is judging you pretty hard right now.”

And lastly, a super-special-awesome thank you to @spring-roe on tumblr for this sweet fanart! ( ͒ ́ඉ .̫ ඉ ̀ ͒)

#the perseverance project #fangs of ouroboros #telltale batjokes #telltale batman #juce #batman the telltale series #the enemy within #batjokes #bruce wayne #GUESS WHO'S BACK #(back again)#the agency #iman avesta #Achievement: Iman Is Judging You So Hard #I have so many little jokes in this one :3c #circulate the links

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