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Chapter 24 - Take Out the Competition
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 18:00:38 +0000 UTCGotham
Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane
Batman had Alfred checked by his family physician, and after confirming that his father figure was getting better, he arranged a meeting with Poison Ivy.
Entering the interrogation room where Pamela Isley was cuffed to the desk in all her green glory, Miles sat before her with two guards stationed at the corners of the room, weapons ready in case Ivy tried something.
“So, Batsy brought you here, huh? Why don’t you introduce yourself, handsome?” Ivy’s flirtatious voice would no doubt ensnare men with less self-control, like Miles and Batman.
Ignoring her for now, Miles turned to the one-way mirror. “Can we have the cuffs and the guards removed? There are no plants in the vicinity for Miss Isley to manipulate, so all of this is quite unnecessary.”
The guards frowned, but after a minute the phone rang, and they left after uncuffing Poison Ivy.
“My, what a gentleman you are. Not worried I might kill you?” She rubbed her wrists and rested her chin on her hands, watching Miles with a predatory gaze.
“I try to be, and compared to some of the other inmates, you are not actually insane. Miles Beckett, a pleasure.” He held out his gloved hand, and Ivy took it with a smile.
“You already know me, so why don’t you tell me why you are here?” The super villainess seemed to be at ease, since Batman wouldn't bring someone who would harm the inmates to Arkham.
“I read your psych profile and your criminal record. I must say, for a woman as intelligent as you, your actions are quite senseless. Is it possible your powers are affecting your mental faculties?” She was taken aback by his frankness and the implication of his words.
Poison Ivy leaned forward, no longer having fun. “Are you calling me crazy?”
Miles rolled his eyes deliberately. “Miss Isley, if I wanted to call you names, I would do it straight to your face without any innuendo. I am simply wondering why you use your powers to fight environmental pollution through such ineffective means. I mean, destroying a factory for releasing chemicals to the water isn’t going to do anything but cause a small setback.” Which was the latest entry to the list of felonies she had committed.
Pamela crossed her arms, scowling at Miles. “Oh, and you would know how to save the Earth better?”
“Why yes.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“If I must.” Miles took out a folder from his coat, pulling out several photos of deforested and polluted landscapes. “I bought these lands for almost free, owing to their current condition.” He handed the photos to the green woman, who frowned at the state the land was in.
“Tell me something, Miss Isley, with all that remarkable power coursing through your veins and the encyclopedic knowledge of botany you possess, couldn’t you restore this land to its former glory, perhaps to even greater heights? Reawaken the soil, coax life from decay, and breathe green into grey? I find that hard to believe. No, what I think is that you're not lacking in ability. You're lacking in vision. And perhaps—just perhaps—the will to create rather than destroy.”
His words had struck a chord in Poison Ivy, as she did not speak for some time. “I could.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Miles asked aggressively, and Ivy flinched.
“I—I don’t know.”
“Pamela, may I call you that?” At her nod, Miles continued, this time more gently, his shift in demeanor throwing Poison Ivy further off. “You possess a truly exquisite gift that is desperately needed in this maddened little world we share. And yet, here you are,” Miles gestured to the cell” locked up in an asylum for the criminally insane because you were wasting it on blowing up factories and coal mines, as if it would solve anything.”
Pointing at the photos spread across the little desk, he continued. “Have you ever considered—really considered—using that gift to change the world, not just burn it down? Because believe me, the world doesn’t need another arsonist. It needs a spark—not of fire, but of hope. Hope that Earth will survive and that humanity can be educated to embrace nature, not destroy it in the name of unchecked capitalism."
Poison Ivy grasped her head; the irrationality of her actions was laid bare for her to see. Thinking about all her previous attempts, it made Pamela Isley realize for all her claims of wanting to save the environment, she had accomplished nothing.
She finally looked at Miles again. “What do you exactly want from me?”
“Me? Nothing. Mother Nature, on the other hand, cries for a savior, and I simply offer you the chance to be that.” This wasn’t about him after all, but the world itself.
“I have a long prison sentence.”
“You will appear before a judge, prove that you intend to change your ways, and be released on probation. By this time next week, you’ll be working to restore that land, if you accept that.” With Batman convincing James Gordon to talk to the judge to give Ivy a chance, she would be out of Arkham, with safeguards to avoid her going on a crime spree.
“I’ll need time to think.” No doubt Poison Ivy was having conflicting thoughts and didn’t know if she could trust Miles.
“Give Commissioner Gordon a call when you make up your mind; he'll contact Batman." Miles left Pamela to her thoughts.
She was quiet as the guards led Ivy to her cell.
—
“Nice speech.”
“My, another compliment from Batman himself; Flash is going to be beset with jealousy.”
The Dark Knight just gave him a blank stare. “Do you think she will accept your offer?”
“Most likely. She is shaken up by the realization of her folly, though there is always the chance she could lash out in resentment.” Ivy had her heart in the right place; it was her method that branded her a criminal.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Batman already had enough on his plate with his gallery of villains; there was no need to have Ivy cause trouble elsewhere.
“Regardless, we are even now.”
—
Metropolis
He had no further business in Gotham for now and took the private jet to Metropolis and began to seek tutors for Zalika and Baraka.
Metropolis University was one of the finest institutions on this version of Earth and possessed many departments, including the fields he sought, so finding private tutors was not an issue.
Most of the eligible postgraduates were already employed, and Miles thought college students would be adequate for now. Miles also always aspired to assist students wherever it was possible.
He had already seen the part of their basic education himself, and it would be enough to avoid the tutors asking why the siblings knew so little, except Zalika when it came to anything related to tech.
So three students were hired on probation, with Logan Moore on programming, Daniel Taylor on cybersecurity, and Stephanie Blaese on mechanical engineering, to teach the siblings everything in their respective fields starting from the very basics. Depending on which subjects the siblings preferred, the students would be hired as full-time tutors.
They were paid well for their secrecy on the matter.
—
Usual business continued while Miles waited for Poison Ivy to make up her mind, but he had an issue now.
A group of gunmen came out of a van and started shooting at Miles and Claire in daylight.
“This wasn’t in the plans, was it?” Claire asked as they took cover, with the shots peppering the brick wall.
“They are just some rabble, Claire, nothing compared to what we dealt with until now.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She kneeled and peeked out of the corner to launch a torrent of flames at one of the shooters, sending him flying off with a painful burn on his chest.
Miles pulled out the cryo grenade he always kept on himself, as well as the cryo pistol, and threw the grenade right into the midst of the shooters, sending half of them to the ground, frozen.
Seeing the opportunity, Claire launched herself into the air with a blast from her feet and hands and fell right into the ground where he had thrown the grenade, an expanding dome of flames erupting and taking out the remaining shooters.
“Your training is paying off, I see.” He commented, taking the guns away, freezing the feet of the out-cold assailants, and nailing them to the ground.
“Who do you think sent them?”
“Let’s find out.” Miles emptied out a trash can and froze the inside of it with a block of ice, and getting the idea of what he wanted to do, Claire melted it.
She kicked one of the assailants in the head, waking him up. Before he could react, Claire grabbed him by the neck and shoved his head into the can, holding him down as the shooter thrashed in an attempt to break free.
Gesturing for Claire to pull the man out, the pyrokinetic did so, taking her hands off the man as he gasped for breath.
“Now, there are two ways we can do this. The first way is you tell me what I want to know, and I’ll just lock you and your companions inside the van. The second is we find out how long you can hold your breath before breaking, and if you happen to die? Well, perhaps one of them could answer instead.”
The man hesitated, and Miles hummed in understanding. “That didn’t seem to have convinced you.” Upon cue, Claire hauled the man to his feet and dunked his head once again, and Miles let him stay like that longer this time.
At his nod, Claire pulled the man out again. “It was Anton; he sent us to take you out. Please, no more.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard. Now, his location.”
The man hesitated again, weighing his options, though he blurted out an address as Claire took a step towards him.
Knocking the man out, they proceeded to tie the shooters with their own clothes and lock them inside the van. Just to be sure, Miles froze the door shut and threw away the keys, as well as taking their phones.
No need for Anton to get a warning.
—
Miles didn’t have time to bring his mercenary squad, and since he couldn’t dispose of Anton if he called Superman for help, Miles and Claire decided to go at it alone but well armed and with a plan.
Standing before the entrance guarded by two meatheads, Miles spoke. “I believe your boss is looking for me.” The meathead one frowned, not expecting any company. “Bricks isn’t seeing anyone.”
“Bricks? What a creative name. Is it because he has the intelligence or the looks of one?” The guards didn’t appreciate Miles mocking their boss, and Claire didn’t appreciate anyone trying to attack hers, and her flaming fists won the contest of strength.
Taking his rifle out, Miles moved in with Claire right in front of him.
—
The inside of the building was guarded well since the basement was a cocaine lab, and naturally, Anton wanted it well protected.
Not that it worked, as all his guards were out with either second-degree burns or were frozen in a block of ice.
As for Anton, it turns out he was called Bricks because he was built like a brick wall.
Which didn’t really work when Claire nailed him between the legs. Miles winced as the man fell to the ground holding his groin, a silent scream between his lips.
Since Bricks was out, Miles helped himself to his computer and found emails ferrying information to Anton. Growth of his network had gotten his attention, and Bricks didn’t enjoy healthy competition in his field.
Neither did Miles.
Calling Zalika, Miles connected her to the computer to track down everyone working for Bricks to inform them there was a change in management, with ample proof of their illegal dealings as ammunition should any refuse.
Anton eventually got up on trembling legs while still holding his groin, and Claire pulled a chair, forcing the much larger man to sit.
“I am curious about something, Anton. I heard steroids shrink your penis. Have you found that to be the case for you, or did you always lack in that department?” Anton tried to rise in outrage, but Claire pushed him down with a glare, and he sat back down, gulping in fear.
Shaking his head as if chiding a child, Miles continued. “And it seems to have affected your testicles too, with how scared you are.” Claire chuckled at the joke, and Miles began to go through the drawers of the desk, eventually finding Anton’s gun.
A gold-plated Desert Eagle sat inside the drawer, and Miles took it, checking the chamber to see if it was loaded, ready to end Anton.
In that moment, Superman flew through the doors, floating as he checked the room. “Superman, my friend, what a pleasant surprise.” Anton was alarmed at hearing Miles call Superman “my friend” and visibly gulped when Superman greeted him back.
“Miles, nice to see you too, though what is happening here?” He asked, watching as Miles removed the magazine and pulled the slide back to dismantle the pistol in his hand.
He pointed at the crime boss sitting on the chair, cursing his luck between winces of pain from his groin. “Anton here had a drug lab in the basement, and I was just warning him on the dangers of weapons and addictive substances.” Miles completely dismantled the pistol and put the parts on the desk.
One more second and Miles would have been caught.
He needed to be more careful in the future.
Superman glared at the crime boss, who looked ready to wet his pants, and called in the authorities. Miles, after messaging Zalika to wipe everything from the computer, left the matter in the hands of the Man of Tomorrow.
Anton kept his mouth shut about ordering a hit on a man that was friends with Superman out of self-preservation.
Comments
GameMage
Thanks for the reference. Anton is exactly what my family calls me. Thanks for the great work you make.
