[A/N]: Here's an extra chapter, y'all. I wanted to fit more Bruce into the last one, but anything I tried to write just ended up being clutter.
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During Bruce's late-night talk with Lucian, he had been healed of the injuries he'd sustained fending off the attack on Blackgate.
It was absurd.
That violet lifeforce was so potent that even after his injuries vanished, he was even invigorated. Lucian's lifeforce couldn't even be depleted from the fountain; a noticeable amount of it still lingered in the water. But then, to double down on the absurdity, Lucian even 'refilled' the fountain's lifeforce beyond how much it had before Bruce had taken from it.
Amusement and annoyance warred within him, calmed only by clinical interest. It was something to investigate later. Still... his annoyance was brought on by the fact that couldn't get any sleep to rest his mind—his body was just brimming with energy.
Taking a deep breath, Bruce reined in his thoughts. Now that he'd been energized, he might as well make use of it. While everyone was still resting, he suited back up and snuck into the cave to board the Batmobile. Using it, he planned to visit the former rogues that had been directly affected by the night's events.
His first order of business was Poison Ivy.
...
Among those that Black Mask had caused to go berserk, Poison Ivy was by far the most stable right after recovering. Spoiler and Orphan had done a good job bringing her back to her senses—they managed to make her take back control using her own will, flushing out the invasive chemicals with her unique physiology.
Parking in an out-of-the-way spot at Robinson Park, he left the Batmobile and made his way into the trees. Before long, the thick vegetation that had miraculously taken over the park made way for him. Vines coiled in on themselves like snakes, wrapping tightly around the branches. Shrubbery crawled away on little 'legs' made of roots, and old trees, their trunks tall and thick, creaked and bent out of the way like a crowd parting for royalty.
"Ivy," Batman greeted, calmly stepping into the serene clearing that Pamela Isley called her home.
Poison Ivy rose from her hammock, made from smooth, slender vines and padded with soft leaves. "Batman..."
He knew that she had roused as soon as someone entered her home. Even if he managed to somehow get past the vegetation, she would have 'felt' pressures along the root system hidden just beneath the soil. Had it been anyone else—intruders—her vegetation would have attacked instinctively once they'd drawn deep enough into her domain. Since his weight was familiar and deemed safe, he was spared...
"I'm sorry we couldn't stop them from getting to you," Batman opened.
She shook her head. "Don't be. This was bound to happen at some point. It's kind of my fault, too; I let my guard down."
He pursed his lips. "Any idea how they managed to slip through your defenses?"
"Yeah," she muttered. Her hands grabbed at her thick, flowing hair, pulling it tighter around her chest. "It was rats. I don't know how they managed it, but they used a pack of rats to get past my plants. They got to me in my sleep since they didn't register as dangerous..."
After being assured that no more trouble would be coming to her, Ivy offered her own aid in the coming days. Batman accepted. The thought of Ivy coming out to fight... it roused mixed feelings in him. Ultimately, he knew better than to refuse her aid.
With the matter of Poison Ivy now resolved, Batman left and returned to the Batmobile. His next stop would be an abandoned section of Gotham's subway network.
...
Kirk Langstrom was many things, but foolish was not one of them. No longer, at least. Batman had seen to that.
The Batmobile slowed to a stop. Its headlights illuminated rough stone and crumbling concrete. Rusted rails glinted with moisture underfoot as Batman exited the vehicle. When the door slammed shut, the headlights died, and the subway was once again plunged into darkness.
Batman's eyes glowed beyond his cowl, two white dots that floated steadily into the depths. A turn here and there, and another one later, he'd reached it: a small cavern that had been carved out of the earth. It was cool and dry unlike every other part of the dilapidated subway, and there were signs of recent activity.
Silently, Batman spoke. "Langstrom. Are you in there?"
Through the stale, steady air, his hushed voice echoed. Something shuffled in the shadows, followed by the sound of sharp objects clicking against the stone. In but a moment, Man-Bat appeared. Soft, muted lights came alive from behind him, barely enough to banish the abyss.
"I know what's happening," said Langstrom. His voice was an odd mixture of hoarse and heavy. "The Robins brought me up to speed once I was cleansed. Why did you come here?"
"Just checking in," Batman replied. "I can imagine how bad it must have been for you. If there's anything you need, just say so."
Langstrom's eyes narrowed in thought, shifting at random as he dug through his mind. "I lost my lab when they attacked. My research is safe and backed up in this hideout, but all of my equipment and supplies are gone."
Batman nodded. "I can arrange replacements for you. I won't take up more of your time, so I'll go now if you want."
"Hm... No, there is nothing else," Langstrom replied. "But I owe you for this. Once I have a new setup, I'll work with you to end whatever scheme Black Mask is running. He's done quite enough long ago."
With an earnest nod and thank-you, Batman left. There was only one person left to talk to: Waylon Jones.
...
Waylon had taken refuge beyond Gotham City's boundaries. He'd hidden himself in a seaside cave, tucked under a cliff that looked over the Atlantic ocean.
His lone figure was well-concealed in the cave's shadow. Whatever light managed to reach him, it bounced off his scales in such a way that made him resemble wet rock. His hulking form only served to enhance that illusion. Curled in on himself, his head jutted out from his body as Batman's silhouette appeared on the beach.
A low, crocodilian rumble rolled out of Waylon's throat. Batman, undeterred, stepped forward. He moved slowly, and without hesitation. "Waylon."
"... Batman." Waylon pulled himself up, rising to a seated position. His beady yellow eyes gleamed with interest, more than caution. "What's happening to Gotham?"
"Black Mask is happening," Batman replied. "He targeted you to spread us thin and weaken us. Kirk Langstrom and Pamela Isley were also targets."
"That... pisses me off..." Waylon's voice rumbled. It was a sound that would shake the lungs of anyone close enough to him. "I... I remember something," he continued. "I was hit by Fear Toxin, right?"
Batman nodded.
"I fought someone," Waylon continued. "He... was he alright? The last thing I remember was... hitting him dead on."
"He's fine," Batman said to assure him. "He got off with only a few fractures."
Waylon's voice lifted in relief. "I see... then, was he also the one to bring me back...?"
"Him and another. They were both hurt pretty bad, and one of them is still recovering."
Sighing, Waylon rubbed his face with his rugged hand. He took a moment to breathe, then said, "I want to meet them, if they're willing... I want to thank the ones who stopped me when I was out of control."
"I'll pass it along," Batman replied. "For now, just lay low. Tensions are still high in the city."
He turned to leave, but before he was out of the cave, he turned. "Are you sure you don't want to move somewhere safer? Somewhere you won't be disturbed."
Waylon's grotesque face scrunched into a frown. "I'll think about it," he sighed.