# Chapter 12: Thumbs Up For You
"If Batman could be photographed like this, it would definitely be a classic." Jack Kadere smiled, standing and tucking the camera back into his usual backpack.
Harley Quinn paused at the door she'd been closing, then turned. "Are you leaving?"
"Gotham under Bane's rule is too boring. No crazy villains causing trouble, no Batman playing cat and mouse. Such a peaceful life is truly uninteresting—a waste of good time." He spoke half to himself, gaze drifting. "Where should I go next? Metropolis? I wonder if Superman, the alien who says he loves Earth and speaks for it, has appeared yet. Central City? Has the Flash been struck by lightning? Maybe Star City to find Green Arrow. Or I could hunt down that garbage heap squad—the collection of second and third-tier heroes and villains. Traversing time shouldn't be monotonous."
Though Harley didn't catch every word, she understood enough. He was bored. Tired of Gotham.
"Will you take me with you?"
Jack looked up. "Why would I take you?"
"I can be your pillow. Don't you have to hug me every night to fall asleep?" The words came out too eager.
"I'm tired of it." He tilted his head, walking past her to rummage through their things. "I'm going to get a new one."
Her expression dimmed. As a hostage, she should have been happy. He was leaving. She'd be free. He'd dealt with Bane and saved Gotham, restored order—she should be grateful. But all she felt was the familiar ache of abandonment. The same feeling from when her father left without warning, abandoning her and her mother despite their warm, harmonious home.
Studying Jack Kadere's psychology? She'd cast that aside long ago. Somewhere along the way, the time spent together had made her feel something like familial warmth. Dependence.
Was she going to be abandoned again?
Was it because he was bored with Gotham, or tired of her?
"Will you come back?"
"Perhaps." He zipped the backpack casually. "When Gotham becomes exciting and interesting, maybe I'll return to play." He addressed her directly. "I'm going out for a bit."
"When will you be back?"
"Not sure." He slung the bag over his shoulder, pushed the door open, and stepped out.
He hadn't decided where to go next, but that didn't mean he couldn't acquire new transportation first. The Batmobile, for instance. It could run and fly, had a sleek design, and was fully functional—enough to keep him entertained for a while.
Where was it kept?
No matter. If he didn't know, someone else did.
Jack planned to go directly to City Hall and find Bane. Trading Batgirl should be enough to get a car, right?
You say he promised Batgirl he'd kill Bane? Those were two different matters entirely. When the time came, he could bring Batgirl along, swagger in, save time and effort, deliver her directly to Bane—and then kill him. Efficient.
As for whether Batgirl would be frightened? Whether Bane would be furious? Whether Talia al Ghul, the League of Assassins leader's daughter and the true mastermind behind Gotham's destruction, would be depressed?
What did that have to do with him?
Jack walked toward Gotham City Hall.
Speak of the devil. He'd just turned the corner when a woman darted past, her agile figure disappearing into an alley. This woman was not simple. Her alias was Miranda Tate—Gotham's newly-appointed philanthropist, Wayne Enterprises board member, Batman's trusted ally, and Bruce Wayne's one-night stand. Her real name was Talia al Ghul, and she was the true mastermind behind everything.
How clever did people think Batman was? Yet she'd fooled him completely—financially and romantically. After gaining his trust, she'd maneuvered his Wayne Enterprises shares into her hands, nearly bankrupting him upon his return, almost stripping away his one true superpower: being rich. She'd stabbed him at the crucial moment, twisting the blade. That must have stung. And beyond all that, she'd gone from a one-night stand to one of his greatest loves, bearing him a son—Damian Wayne, the fifth Robin.
Ruthless. Ambitious. And most importantly, she knew how to have fun in the city.
Jack wanted to give her a thumbs up.
Actions speak louder than words. He chased after her and entered the alley.
A dead end. Completely empty. To the left, a door—likely the back entrance of some shop—stood slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of darkness.
A smile played on his lips as he pulled the door open and stepped inside.
Bang.
The door slammed shut. Pitch black.
Invisible. Silent.
A sharp gust of wind pierced toward his throat, something cutting through the air with lethal precision.
Ability Copy.
In an instant, Jack mastered world-class fighting techniques—unarmed combat, knife work, swordsmanship, archery. Along with them came the keen perception honed through years of training. Distinguishing position by sound alone, he tilted his head slightly. Cold breath brushed his cheek. His hand shot out, snatching the dagger mid-flight, and he hurled it into the darkness on his left.
Infinite Superposition. Ten times.
His unique technique was as effortless as breathing. In the darkness, his eyes seemed to glow.
Thunk.
The dagger embedded itself in the wall.
Missed?
Jack found the light switch and flicked it on.
An abandoned warehouse. Against the left wall, a woman stood frozen in shock, wearing a blue dress. The sleeve on her left shoulder had slipped down, revealing the flat plane of her chest. A shallow bloodstain traced across her skin, and the dagger was lodged in the wall just above—having grazed her shoulder by a hair's breadth.
The sudden light made her turn her head, squinting. "You're that man named Jack Kadere? Barba—Batgirl was supposed to find you. Why are you here?"
How does he keep appearing where he shouldn't be? Talia's fingers twitched toward a second blade hidden at her thigh.