[Starling City / Gotham City — Evening]
The dignified daughter of the Demon's Head, the true mastermind behind Gotham's near-destruction, trembled from Jack Kadere's verbal assault. Her breathing came heavy through the line. After a long moment, Talia al Ghul finally suppressed the rage coiling in her chest. For the sake of destroying Gotham, she would endure it.
"You're good. You're very good. I—"
"I'm good, and you're good too. What is this, some kind of wellness retreat? I don't take you seriously enough to be threatened, so just prepare what I want." Jack cut her off, and the anger she'd barely contained ignited.
"I'm going to kill you. I will definitely kill you."
Jack tilted his head away from the receiver. "Don't yell at me. I was scared by a dog when I was young."
Silence. Then: "Are you calling me a dog?"
"Dogs are humanity's best friends. Why should friends quarrel? Can't we sit down calmly and slap each other a few times?" His tone was utterly sincere.
Talia's chest heaved. After a long pause, she forced out a cold laugh. "When I see you, I will slap you."
"If you can manage it."
Jack chuckled, then rattled off the suit's measurements and requirements. Talia recognized there was no winning a war of words with him. Fine. When she saw him in person, she'd simply kill him.
"Three days. Deliver the items to Frank Bertinelli's house in Starling City."
With Talia's resources, identifying the head of Starling City's crime syndicate would take minutes. Jack wasn't naive enough to believe she'd deliver the package without arrangements of her own—but better to sacrifice a convenient acquaintance than himself. Helena probably wouldn't mind.
He hung up and walked away from the payphone.
---
In the president's office at Wayne Enterprises, Talia set down the phone and leaned back, eyes closed. The measurements were clearly for a woman. Who would wear the suit didn't matter; what mattered was using this exchange to kill Jack Kadere—or at least retrieve the photographs.
Her eyes snapped open.
The little cat.
Selina Kyle had shared a cell with him. That connection could get her close. Even if she couldn't kill him, her skills as a thief might recover what Talia needed. And why would Catwoman help? She was still hunting for software to wipe her criminal record.
Bait dangled. The fish would bite.
While having the suit manufactured, Talia tracked Catwoman down—difficult, but not impossible for someone with her resources. Presenting herself as Miranda Tate, she explained: Jack Kadere was extorting her with photographs, demanding a custom suit for their return. She needed Catwoman to locate him and retrieve the evidence. In exchange, she'd provide the software to erase Selina's record.
Catwoman remembered Jack vividly. She'd betrayed Batman out of fear of Bane—only for Jack to kill Bane with contemptuous ease. She had no desire to cross him. But a clean slate... that was worth reconsidering.
She agreed to try.
Talia didn't ask Catwoman to kill him. She knew Selina would refuse that condition outright. Besides, she had other arrangements in place.
Three days passed.
---
[Starling City — Bertinelli Residence — Night]
Helena stood by the window, parting the curtain with two fingers. At least twenty armed guards patrolled inside and outside the villa, their flashlight beams cutting through the evening gloom. She let the fabric fall and turned to face Jack Kadere, who lounged across her bed like he owned it.
"How did you even get in here?"
"Can't steal a kiss without some skill." He grinned. "Surprised? Unexpected?"
"When I came back last time, my father grounded me. He's been looking for you everywhere." Helena crossed her arms, though concern edged her voice. "You're asking for trouble coming here. Leave. Now. Before he gets back."
Jack sat up, reached out, and pulled her onto him in one smooth motion. She landed straddling his lap, hands bracing against his chest. The scent of gun oil and old money clung to the room—her father's house through and through.
"Your father's hunting me all over the city," Jack murmured against her ear, "while I'm in his daughter's bed. He'd lose his mind if he knew. Doesn't that make it better? The head of a crime syndicate who orders murders and arsons—and he still can't stop his little girl from getting fucked in her own bedroom."
Helena's pulse kicked. She glanced toward the door. "There are two guards right outside."
"Then you'll have to be quiet."
Her eyes lit with sudden mischief. "Wait. I have an idea."
She slipped off his lap and crossed to the wardrobe. When she turned back, she held up a black ball gag, displaying it like a trophy.
"This way we don't have to worry about noise."
"You have one of those?" Jack's grin sharpened. "Kinky. I like it."
Helena fitted the gag between her own teeth and buckled it behind her head, her breathing already quickening through her nose. Jack's blood surged, heat pooling low as he pulled her back onto the bed.