Chloe first hears the name "Manheim" in a passing conversation at the Daily Planet. A couple reporters discussing the situation in Gotham City, the arrest, death, and erasure of Carmine Falcone. It's Falcone that really peaks her interest and she stops, clutching a folder to her chest and trying to blend into the corner. Growing up in Metropolis meant names like Falcone, Thorne, and Maroni occasionally made their way into the Daily Planet. They were Gotham's big crime bosses but all saw Metropolis as a potential jewel for their empires. None had ever made in-roads into the city's underworld and after watching them pick over Gotham like dogs gnawing bones, Chloe's glad for it.

But now there's a Bat on the loose (and she needs to check with Oliver about that), the city's in turmoil, and Gotham has finally learned how to share.

She listens to the discussion of Bruno Manheim, gets enough to know he was one of Falcone's top capos, that he's a man who tried - and failed - to seize control of his empire, and that he arrived on Metropolis' doorstep with something to prove.

They dismiss him as a failure, the boss that wasn't, but the twist in Chloe's stomach says otherwise. It's one of the rare times that she hates to be right and standing at the graveside of a six year old, she knows she is. The boy's death can be chalked up to wrong place, wrong time, standing on a street corner when Manheim's men show up to teach one of his rivals a lesson.

"I'm sorry," she tells the boy's mother and passes the grieving woman her card. She wants to tell her this won't be forgotten, that they won't let Manheim get away with this. But by the grateful look in the woman's eyes, she already knows.

The article about the boy appears in the paper the next day. It's Chloe's first headline on the front page, it's not her last. It's her first story about Bruno Manheim and not her last one either. He tries to kill her, of course, and he nearly does more than once.

She gets a grim satisfaction out of the fact Manheim has to be murderous in his frustration, wondering how she keeps surviving. He never approaches her but she sees him at events, watches him glare at her from across the room and waves happily.

He's surrounded by bodyguards, she's got Clark on her arm. She wins.

"Behave," Clark scolds, laughter in his voice.

Chloe looks up at him, automatically grinning at the over-sized glasses he insists on wearing. "I'm behaving," she says, leaning into him.

He shakes his head. "Didn't your Dad ever tell you not to bait gangsters."

"Nope," says Chloe. "He made me promise to take precautions and I've got you. I'm good." She leans in. "Manheim had a visitor last night."

"Oh?"

She nods. "Gotham's favorite nightstalker." Oh, to have been a fly on that wall. "Serving notice from what I hear." She thinks the file she forwarded to a Lieutenant James Gordon of the GCPD might have had something to do with it, still she doesn't say.

Clark frowns. "The Batman."

"Yes," Chloe says. "The Batman. He and Manheim have history, I guess he was reminding Manheim he hasn't forgotten."

"Still..."

"Oh don't start that territorial crap with me," she laughs, pulling Clark onto the dance floor. "Besides, it's not like you've put on a cape and thrown in with Ollie and the boys." She pauses, looks up and look suspicious. "Have you?"

"No, no," he shakes his head. "I'm not the type, Chlo', behind the scenes is good for me."

She laughs and shakes her head. "Keep telling yourself that one, Smallville. You might actually believe it."

Chloe lets him pull her close after that, rests her head on his shoulder, and tries to relax. She can feel Manheim watching her, feel his eyes on her body, and its distracting.

"Forget about him," Clark tells her, swinging them away from his line of sight.

"I wish I could," Chloe says. She hasn't been able to forget about Manheim for a very long time. "He's in my city, Clark," she looks up. "And I don't want him here."

She stops short of saying it's him or her but, deep down, she knows it is. And there's no way in hell she's going anywhere.

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