"I'll see if I can find Green Arrow. Don't think a masked dude with a robin hood fetish will be too hard to find...but it is California after all...umm, anyway, just to get all the formalities out of the way, I guess we should do a vote on GL? All those in favor?"
I raise my hand. "He definitely has my approval too."
"Mine as well," replies J'onn.
"Welcome to the team then, Green Lantern," I say, shaking our newest member's hand.
Seeing Wonder Woman talk to her young friend, I try to give the girl a reassuring smile. It's been my experience that Wonder Woman knows what she's talking about, and as much as the girl might not enjoy it, she also apparently knows that Wonder Woman is right.
"As per the Atom's suggestion, I can meet with Steel and get him up to speed on the situation with the League and the Legion of Doom." My mind falls to Batman for a moment and I wonder if I should take a look around Gotham. I hear a lot of dubious things about him, to say the least, but I know that he's a good man. At the very least, I'll see if he's available on the telepathic network.
"We can keep each other updated through J'onn. Now, if we're each ready to go..." Typing in a few keys, an access port opens above us and I start to take to the air.
I raise my hand. "He definitely has my approval too."
"Mine as well," replies J'onn.
"Welcome to the team then, Green Lantern," I say, shaking our newest member's hand.
Seeing Wonder Woman talk to her young friend, I try to give the girl a reassuring smile. It's been my experience that Wonder Woman knows what she's talking about, and as much as the girl might not enjoy it, she also apparently knows that Wonder Woman is right.
"As per the Atom's suggestion, I can meet with Steel and get him up to speed on the situation with the League and the Legion of Doom." My mind falls to Batman for a moment and I wonder if I should take a look around Gotham. I hear a lot of dubious things about him, to say the least, but I know that he's a good man. At the very least, I'll see if he's available on the telepathic network.
"We can keep each other updated through J'onn. Now, if we're each ready to go..." Typing in a few keys, an access port opens above us and I start to take to the air.
"As per the Atom's suggestion, I can meet with Steel and get him up to speed on the situation with the League and the Legion of Doom." My mind falls to Batman for a moment and I wonder if I should take a look around Gotham. I hear a lot of dubious things about him, to say the least, but I know that he's a good man. At the very least, I'll see if he's available on the telepathic network.
"We can keep each other updated through J'onn. Now, if we're each ready to go..." Typing in a few keys, an access port opens above us and I start to take to the air.
Amanda Waller eyed Rick Flag as he took in all she had just said. She'd just spent the last half hour explaining to him what she and Sarge Steel had found after he was left for dead in Nigeria. King Faraday, the man who had run the team after Waller left, had used the Squad for his own devices. They became his own private mercenary team, pulling jobs across the globe for an oil company while Faraday had lined his pockets. After the incident in Nigeria, Faraday had disappeared off the grid.
Fast forward a month and here they were, in the back of a cargo plane headed back to the States. Flag was alive, beaten all to hell and back, but still alive.
"You have no idea where he's at?" Flag asked after a long pause.
"No idea. He took a flight from New Orleans to Dubai. The last shot we have of him is from a security camera in the Dubai International Airport. After that he turned into ghost. No paper trail at all. Faraday is an old pro when it comes to spook work. He has two backup identities on file, but he could have another dozen fake passports we never knew about. I managed to freeze the assets in his Swiss bank account, but by then he'd already taken two mil out. I have no idea. That's more than enough to pay for a few years on lam."
"Not good enough. I want to find him now. He left me for dead, Waller. I want to repay the favor."
"Listen to me, Flag," Waller said sternly. "I know how you feel, believe me, I know all to well. You rushing out to get revenge won't solve anything. It makes you sloppy. It does nothing but hurt yourself and others. I've got my best people working on finding Faraday. As soon as they even get a whiff of Faraday's scent, I'll sic you and the Squad on him. 'Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war' and all that."
Flag leaned back and rubbed his head. While he needed medical attention, he felt like he needed a shower above everything else.
"So what is this? You're going to keep me on the team with the offer of getting the kill shot on Faraday?"
"Hell no. I won't dangle that carrot in your face, Flag. If I have it my way, Faraday will spend the rest of his days rotting in some hole. The traitorous snake deserves death, but that's too easy for him. I'm only offering you a chance to go along for the ride. Fact of the matter is that you're a damn good leader, Flag. You bring your people back alive...for the most part. Face facts, Rick, you ain't good at anything else."
"Fine," Flag replied. "Just get me a hot shower and some decent food."
16 Hours Later Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary
Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana
Cleaned up and bandaged, Flag looked in the mirror of the bathroom as he finished up shaving his rust colored beard.
"I actually liked the beard," Ben Turner said as he rounded the corner into the bathroom.
"Never liked the feel of facial hair. Always felt like a slob if I let it grow out too much.'
"Of course. You don't want to look like a hippie or some draft dodger."
"Funny," Flag said, rolling his eyes. "You know, Ben. I didn't have a chance to say it, but I want to thank you. Thank you for coming back and getting me. Waller told me that you gave up a chance on the outside for this."
"Well, I'm still free to come and go as I please. I'm just a 'civilian contractor' now. Sure as hell beats the construction I was doing before."
"You seen Eve? I haven't seen her since we got back. I wanted to thank her too."
"She's working with Sarge Steel on something. I think a prisoner managed to escape while we were in Nigeria. You ask me, I think she's trying to avoid you, still a little embarrassed."
"About what? Hugging me?"
"Nevermind," Turner said, shaking his head. "You'll find out soon enough. For now we're needed. We got a new recruit."
Flag washed the shaving cream from his face and followed Turner to the entrance of the sub-level of Belle Reve. A massive prisoner is shackles was waiting for them.
"This is Roland Desmond. Calls himself Blockbuster. Super strength and durability. He was running a drug ring out of Gotham City before Batman and some weirdo without a face took him down. Cops linked him to ordering three murders and killing three people with his bare hands. Six consecutive life sentences."
"Welcome," Flag said to Desmond. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Rick Flag, your field leader. You know the deal. Work for us until we say so and you get a pardon. Disobey orders and you're either thrown back into your cell to rot forever, or we execute you where you stand."
"Yeah," Desmond spat out. "How you gonna do that? Nobody's been able to kill me yet."
"Remember that booster shot you got during your physical? It was an injection of microtechnology known as nanites. They're in your blood stream right now. You disobey and I have them blow off your head."
"Your bluffing!"
Desmond roared and snapped his restraints. "I'm gonna rip off your ****ing head!"
Flag pulled a remote out of his pocket with two buttons on it. One green and one red. He pressed the green button and watched as Blockbuster's huge frame hit the floor and began to convulse in pain. Flag stopped after thirty seconds and walked over to the downed prisoner.
"That's pacification mode. You mess up again and I press the red button. Then I'm the one ripping off your ****ing head."
Behind Flag, Turner was talking into an intercomm.
"That was Sarge Steel. Waller needs all of us in the briefing room. Apparently we have a mission."
Flag turned to the downed Desmond and kicked the large man in the ribs.
"Up and at 'em, dirtbag. Time to serve your country."
Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary
Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana
"Listen up," Amanda Waller announced. From behind her reading glasses, she watched her team sitting around the conference room table. In addition to herself and the seven other members of Task Force X, Werner Vertigo, a art thief turned Squad member, was present.
"The newest mission comes courtesy of the CIA and the Pentagon. It's a doozy."
Behind Waller, a display screen flashed on and showed a map of Russia. There was a glowing red dot placed in the Northern part of the country.
"The dot on the map is the crashdown site of a UFO. It hit the coast of the Arctic Ocean in 1990, just as the Soviet Union was crumbling for good. We have no idea exactly what it was. By the time the satellite surveillance passed over the site, the Russians had it covered. It was moved to a research facility in Moscow a few months later. It's sat there for the last twenty years while the Russians have tried to reverse engineer it."
The display behind Waller shifted and the map became black and white sketches of an oddly shaped aircraft.
"Based on the one intelligence source we managed to get inside the facility, this is what our UFO looks like. Analysts think it's some kind of fighter. The Russians haven't been able to figure it out in the two decades they had it, so they're finally gonna get some use out of it."
The display changed back to a map of Russia, this time there was a red line snaking through the country.
"Russia is selling the aircraft to China for an amount that has a whole lotta zeros behind it. They're preparing to move it as we speak. The jet's too big to be carried by air, so it's gonna be moved by train. Halfway through Siberia they'll veer off into Manchuria and hand the UFO off to the Chinese."
Waller removed her reading glasses and smirked.
"Our mission is to hijack this bad boy."
The display zoomed in to one part of the Trans-Siberian Railway. It showed a town and then a spur that led South.
"We'll make contact with the train a hundred kilometers east of the city of Chita, ten kilometers before they veer south to Manchuria. From there it'll be a three thousand kilometer journey east to the port city of Valdivostok. I'll have a team ready and waiting to get the UFO off the train and on a waiting ship. Sounds simple enough. Questions?"
"Yeah," Bronze Tiger said "How in the hell are we going to do this?"
"We've got a hell of a plan, believe me. You'll find out once we get to Russia. Any more questions?"
"What are the chances of us dying?" Deadshot asked.
"I won't lie. It's not gonna be easy. Thousands of miles away from any other country or any kind of back up. It'll be a miracle if we all make it back alive."
"Works for me," Lawton said with a shrug.
"Just so everyone is clear. If you're caught, you will not speak a word of who you and who you work for. The government will disavow any knowledge of this mission. As far as they're concerned, you're just a group of costumed whackos trying to stir up some s***. That's our cover story. If you expect us to swap some spies for you freedom, forget it. You're expendable, and you'll be treated as such. That's it for now."
"Alright," Flag said. "Go get your gear. We're on the way to the airport in an hour."
The three were strewn across the race car inspired waterbed, Lor's pillow having been usurped by the white canine sometime during the night so that the Superboy was now stretched out with his legs entangled around the dog and his head resting on Adam Grant. And the observers who maintained a watch over the children were happy to leave them that way, having now enjoyed several hours of quiet throughout the facility.
Of course, one truth that was the same for Kryptonians as it was for humans was that, eventually, the dog was going to want out.
Flopping over on its side, Krypto gave a snort before popping up on its legs. The waterbed mattress shifted in a tidal fashion from the motion, raising and lowering the two boys across from the animal - neither of whom were at all disturbed by the sudden motion. Lowering its muzzle beside the brown-haired child's head, Krypto sniffed the air several times before beginning to lap at Lor-Zod's face.
The Kryptonian child's eyes fluttered opened, the boy less than awake even as he attempted to push the dog's head away from his own. There was sunlight coming into the room, brighter than was usual. Sitting up, Lor-Zod realized that he'd slept later than we normally allowed. A glance over at the clock on the nightstand confirming that it was past the time when he was normally expected to be ready for school.
Sitting up, Lor could feel Adam stirring behind him. "We slept late," Lor said aloud, ending in a large yawn. Krypto had taken hold of the child's sleeve and was attempting to tug the boy off the bed, but Lor-Zod rubbed at his eyes while contemplating going back to sleep.
"It's Thanksgiving, there's no school today," Adam noted, sitting up with a similarly vacant expression on his own face.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"I don't understand why you feel you need to censor the interview," Cat Grant remarked, picking up the cup of coffee that had been set before her and sipping at the hot beverage. The reporter sat in the facility's kitchen with Dabney Donovan, having been invited by to discuss the prospect of the Daily Planet running a story on the Boy of Steel. "They're kids. People are going to understand that..."
"Hey, Adam, what's Thanksgiving?"
Stumbling through the kitchen came the bed-headed lost boys of Metropolis, being led toward the door outside by the white furred canine of a different world. Superboy still in only his oversized NASA t-shirt and Adam in his Superman pajamas.
Super-Adam paused to reflect on the question before the trio exited to take Krypto out. "Thanksgiving? It's a holiday where we celebrate the killing of the indians by the pilgrims, so that we could live in this great country. An' turkeys died for our food or somethin' like that."
Cat's face fell immediately. Dabney merely sipping on his own coffee as the boy's went outside and left the two adults alone in the kitchen. Finally, Donovan brought a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat loudly.
Cat Grant sighed. "All right, so in addition to not asking about Superman, we're not asking what he knows about Thanksgiving either."
By the time that I'd recieved Richard's anxious call, I had all but given up hope.
Even as advanced as Mr. Wayne's artificial intelligence system truly seemed to be - with it's systems acting way above and beyond anything I could ever hope to understand, combing through every inch of Gotham itself through a digital grid - the program had still presented me with it's own difficulties in trying to lock down any sort of trace. My fear that his equipment was simply too damaged to send back a signal seemed realized, and I was already preparing myself to abandon the Oracle's search in order to embark on a search of my own. As trying as the task seemed, I would have scoured the entire city if it meant bringing him home alive - but apart of me knew that if I had truly let myself give into the determination, that would never be the case. I didn't know how badly he had suffered, but Bruce was already barely alive whenever I had last laid eyes on him. To test the factors of time would have surely meant his end.
But it seems that I was mistaken. Thanks to the intervention of a fifteen year old boy, hope for his survival still remains. Even as the Mercedes reaches a speed well above the legal limit, my foot remains pressed against the gas, weaving through the oncoming traffic and ignoring the angered pedestrians in my wake. I have brought with me everything imaginable in an emergency scenario - several different types of first aid. Military grade wraps and bandages. An EMT's gurney, secretly borrowed from one of Lucius Fox's many visits to the penthouse. A spare change of clothes arranged for Bruce, and what little I could find to fit Richard aswell. I have to be prepared, because lord knows what sort of costume the boy is wearing tonight. Especially in lieu of what I discovered him wearing in the weeks prior.
Should the stress of this event ever pass, I must remember to have a talk with Richard about what he's seen. I realize that it was unavoidable, given the brief circumstances he told me of, but part of me believes that Bruce really hadn't ever considered his discovery of the secret. Truth be told, neither had I. But if it had ever crossed my mind, even for a moment, I must have known only one thing for certain - Richard would never have been ready to carry the burden. Nor should he have been expected to.
The fading lights of downtown avenue alert me once more to the oncoming peril. I mustn't dwell on such things now, not when my friend is in such dire need of assistance. More than he ever has before, I fear, Mr. Wayne needs me. I can only pray I can live up to the task.
"Good heavens..."
For the entire duration of the drive, I had tried to prepare myself for the absolute worst. From Master Richard's description of the scene, I knew there would be unpleasant sights to behold - visibly broken bones, some hemorraging to avoid. And certainly alot of blood.
But this...
I could have never prepared myself for this.
At first glance of the body, my heart can barely sustain the dread. He does not physically look to be alive, and that is what disturbs me most of all. To be employed by a man who continually risks his life on a nightly basis does not, obviously, come without it's pitfalls. I have spent many nights under the roof of that cave, wondering if that particular evening would be the one. The tragic evening where I would have unknowingly heard his voice for the last time, only to later discover I would never hear it again. So to actually witness what appears to be a corpse - and not a living, breathing man - leaves me too shaken for words.
But I have to trust Richard's assessment, if only to keep myself focused. He is indeed alive, only appearing to be worse off. But this is still beyond any injury he has ever sustained. And like any men in Mr. Wayne's high octane position, he has sustained many. I am almost afraid to touch the body at first, fearing that the slightest brush would force his bones to collapse. But seeing the worried look on the face of the boy behind me, I somehow find the courage to push back any sense of doubt and begin to gently manuever him onto the gurney.
The costume will need to be removed. Replaced with something tattered and ravaged, covered in his own blood. Taking the clothes I have brought, I begin to soak them in the seeping blood that pours out of his body, closing my eyes in frustration as the body only seems to produce more.
"Dick,", I finally call out, beginning to trim through his torn cowl with a scapel.
"Help me lift him into the car, sir. And from there, be prepared to do whatever I tell you to."
Perhaps unnessecarily, I go onto remind him that time is of the essence.
But he doesn't stop to question my commands. Nor does he falter when given tasks that most teenage boys would never be able to attempt. After thirty minutes of struggle, I have managed to remove the incriminating pieces of Bruce's costume and replace them with a purposely wrinkled cocktail suit, tearing it at the sleeves and elsewhere.
After a nearly fifteen minute drive later, we finally arrive at Gotham General. Lucius Fox's medical team immediately rush him back to emergency surgery.
Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary
Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana
"Listen up," Amanda Waller announced. From behind her reading glasses, she watched her team sitting around the conference room table. In addition to herself and the seven other members of Task Force X, Werner Vertigo, a art thief turned Squad member, was present.
"The newest mission comes courtesy of the CIA and the Pentagon. It's a doozy."
Behind Waller, a display screen flashed on and showed a map of Russia. There was a glowing red dot placed in the Northern part of the country.
"The dot on the map is the crashdown site of a UFO. It hit the coast of the Arctic Ocean in 1990, just as the Soviet Union was crumbling for good. We have no idea exactly what it was. By the time the satellite surveillance passed over the site, the Russians had it covered. It was moved to a research facility in Moscow a few months later. It's sat there for the last twenty years while the Russians have tried to reverse engineer it."
The display behind Waller shifted and the map became black and white sketches of an oddly shaped aircraft.
"Based on the one intelligence source we managed to get inside the facility, this is what our UFO looks like. Analysts think it's some kind of fighter. The Russians haven't been able to figure it out in the two decades they had it, so they're finally gonna get some use out of it."
The display changed back to a map of Russia, this time there was a red line snaking through the country.
"Russia is selling the aircraft to China for an amount that has a whole lotta zeros behind it. They're preparing to move it as we speak. The jet's too big to be carried by air, so it's gonna be moved by train. Halfway through Siberia they'll veer off into Manchuria and hand the UFO off to the Chinese."
Waller removed her reading glasses and smirked.
"Our mission is to hijack this bad boy."
The display zoomed in to one part of the Trans-Siberian Railway. It showed a town and then a spur that led South.
"We'll make contact with the train a hundred kilometers east of the city of Chita, ten kilometers before they veer south to Manchuria. From there it'll be a three thousand kilometer journey east to the port city of Valdivostok. I'll have a team ready and waiting to get the UFO off the train and on a waiting ship. Sounds simple enough. Questions?"
"Yeah," Bronze Tiger said "How in the hell are we going to do this?"
"We've got a hell of a plan, believe me. You'll find out once we get to Russia. Any more questions?"
"What are the chances of us dying?" Deadshot asked.
"I won't lie. It's not gonna be easy. Thousands of miles away from any other country or any kind of back up. It'll be a miracle if we all make it back alive."
"Works for me," Lawton said with a shrug.
"Just so everyone is clear. If you're caught, you will not speak a word of who you and who you work for. The government will disavow any knowledge of this mission. As far as they're concerned, you're just a group of costumed whackos trying to stir up some s***. That's our cover story. If you expect us to swap some spies for you freedom, forget it. You're expendable, and you'll be treated as such. That's it for now."
"Alright," Flag said. "Go get your gear. We're on the way to the airport in an hour."
They trickled out the airport's terminal one at a time, not going as one group in case they were being watched. Flag brought up the rear, and was the last one to exit the airport and head into the city. He caught a cab and instructed the driver to the location he wished to go. Fifteen minutes later, he was stepping out of the cab after paying his driver a few rubles. Flag slug his canvas bag over his shoulders and wrapped his jacket tight against himself to fight the Russian cold. He walked down an alleyway and took a right into a dead end...and nearly bumped into a waiting Amanda Waller.
"Were you followed?" She asked. Waiting behind her was the whole team, save for two members.
"I watched out the back of the cab. Unless I had a front tail, which I highly doubt, I'm clear."
"Good. Now that we're all here, let's head out. We've got to meet up with Turner and Kuttler."
Waller turned to the massive man standing in the back of the group.
"Mister Desmond, you remember where you're meeting us at?"
"Outskirts of town," Blockbuster grumbled. "I remember...'
"Good. And Roland? You ain't there, I press one button and go Gallagher all on that deformed melon you call a head. Got that?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
Waller lead the rest of the group out of the alley while Blockbuster took a left and went further down the alleyway towards the west.
One Mile East
Vladivostok Train Terminal
Bronze Tiger navigated through the crowds at the train station. Calculator was walking by his side, a laptop tucked under Kuttler's arm.
"You've got two minutes to get it done? Will that be enough time?"
"Please," he replied, pushing his glasses up off the bridge of his nose. "It took me all of five minutes to bypass all the firewalls in the Spanish Government's servers and get into the Finance Minister's books. Five minutes after that and the country of Spain was bankrupt and I had six billion dollars."
"Well, considering you're not on a beach somewhere with all that money, I'm still wary. Just get in there and do you job. Hold on..."
Turner walked away from Calculator and towards an unsuspecting security guard. The man turned just in time for Turner to come crashing into him.
"Сукин сын!" The guard spat out.
"I'm sorry. I didn't see where I was going. I'm sorry, sir."
Turner held his hands up and stepped away from the guard, still apologizing. He turned around and walked to Kuttler, slipping a card key into his hands.
"Remember what Waller said," Turner mumbled as he passed him, "Nerve center to the train station is down the corridor, third door on the left. You got two minutes. Go."
Kuttler hurried off and down the corridor to a door with a bright red warning written in Cyrillic stamped on it. Calculator slipped the key card into the door and pushed it open after it buzzed him through. He was inside a room filled with computers and servers. The four operators in the room were too busy with their computers to notice Kuttler come in. He sneaked over to a server and booted up his laptop.
Sticking a USB cable into his laptop and running it to the server, he balanced the computer on his knee and went to work. It took Kuttler just a few seconds to bypass the security firewalls and get into the train station's mainframe. He piggybacked off that mainframe into the Russian Transport Bureau's database. All told, it took him a minute to do exactly what Waller wanted. Once it was done, he unplugged his laptop from the server and shut it down. He quickly left the control room and was back in the terminal just a few moments later.
"Done," Kuttler said to Turner once he was within earshot.
"With thirty seconds to spare. Which one is it?"
"It's on track 24." Turner and Klutter made their way to a train engine standing alone by itself, only one passenger car hitched to it.
"Let's get to it."
Klutter climbed up into the engine while Turner entered the passenger car. Five minutes later, the rest of the team walked up to track 24 and entered into the passenger car.
"Welcome to the HQ for the rest of the mission, folks. Get your gear settled. Sarge, get your computer booted up. I wanna know the progress of the Russian convoy."
"Yes ma'am," was his gruff reply.
"Flag, go check up on Kuttler. See how it's going."
Flag dropped his bag and headed to the engine. Inside, Calculator had his computer hooked up to the train's controls.
"How's it going?"
"Almost there. We got real lucky the Russians overhauled their transportation systems. If we were dealing with Cold War era stuff, we'd be up s*** creek without a paddle."
"So, how in the hell are we going to go across Siberia in this thing and not get caught?"
"Simple enough, really," Kuttler said, peering at Flag over the tops of his glasses. "I hacked into the transport bureau and had this train listed as carrying a VIP, identity classified. That'll give us clearance at any check point from here to Moscow."
Kuttler typed on his keyboard quickly and hit the enter key. The train shuddered and began to slowly roll down the track.
"Aaaand now I can control our speed and direction. Damn, I'm good."
The train rolled out of Vladivostok Station and chugged through the town. It came to a stop on the outskirts of town long enough for Blockbuster to climb aboard.
"Alright, people," Waller announced from inside the passenger car. "We got a few thousand kilometers between us and our rendezvous point with the train convoy. We got about two days of down time coming our way. Get plenty of rest, but don't get soft."
Caculator started the engine back up and it began to pick up speed as Vladivostok faded behind them and they entered the open expanse of Siberia.
"...was rushed to Gotham General following a violent encounter with the perpetrators of a break-in to his penthouse suite. Wayne's admission to the hospital was not photographed by any paparazzi, but we have obtained confirmation in a brief statement sent to GCN by the billionaire's publicist. Very few details are being given, but rumors have already began to circulate that the 29 year old's condition is critical at this time. More on this late breaking development as it comes."
Nearly three, and my eyes had to force themselves awake whenever this started. I've checked every channel that this television carries, and nearly all of them are playing the same thing. Bruce Wayne, hospitalized and in serious condition. My curiosity momentarily outweighs any remote chance of concern for a man I barely even know, as I briefly entertain the thought that this is just another "cover". Last time it was a car crash, and I was playing the part of the unforunate passenger to his out-of-control dismal billionaire on a drunken bender. This time it's apparently supposed to be a set of would-be thieves who caught him off guard in the middle of the night.
There's only one little problem with that story. And it's because I know his most precious secret. Bruce Wayne just so happens to be Batman, and you don't catch Batman "off guard". So whatever they've told the press, there's undoubtedly more to it than that. And as much as I hate to admit it, I'd kill to know what it is.
My eyes peer over to the side bedroom door looking out at the living room. Already put Arizona to bed, and she's not going anywhere. My mind races as I realize that it's been two weeks since I had any fun in this town. Fourteen long, painfully uneventful days since he and I went into Chinatown looking for a walking pile of filth named Dimitrov. He's still walking the streets, and the only man who could have helped me track him down is... indisposed.
But why?
Sorry, Wayne. I'd leave it alone, but you don't get to sneak your way out of our agreement that easily.
Just as I get up off of the couch, the beginnings of the rest of my evening already starting to take shape, the pain in my heel takes hold and I'm forced to fall back down onto the cushion. Frustration overwhelms me as I silently mutter a few less than stellar examples of vocabulary. Should I really take the risk of making it even worse on myself? Almost as if she were replying, Isis leaps up on the arm of the couch and begins rubbing her head against my arm. I smile, giving her a tender scratch behind the ears.
"You don't think mommy should stay cooped up in this dingy apartment tonight, do you?"
This, right here? This moment? This is good. I am going to live in this moment just for a while. For the past three days while on patrol I havent seen so much as a person j-walking. Maybe criminals finally realize that Bluehaven is no longer a safe haven for them. That is a nice thought but even I know that not to be true. I have done a lot of good but still I am one man while those who terrorize the innocent are many. So while I can Ill just enjoy this moment.
LET ME GO!! The sounds of a woman screaming to be freed broke my perfect night. I must admit a side of me is kind of glad, I was starting to think that I might have to pack everything up and start working in Gotham.
Anarky track my location and then pinpoint the location and check to see what the commotion is about. I dont want to rush if its not a serious matter.
Im on it Midnighter.
Over the pass couple of months I and Lonnie have come to be a great team we operate like a well oiled machine. If someone would watch us operate you would think we been doing this for years but the truth is we are just a couple of months away from reaching one year. I couldnt ask for a better partner in this.
I tap into a ATM camera and a girl just got taken into a gray van they are heading toward Stark Ave.
On it, keep track. I say as I take a couple of steps back and then dirt off full steam ahead and jump to the rooftop of the building just in front of me.
I could have just jumped down and got on my bike and just fallowed them that way but with my advancement this way is more fun. Thats something I wouldnt dare let Lonnie know, he believes that I have no sense of adventure. Besides coming off as the bad ass is cool in my book.
With Lonnie directing me Im only a couple of blocks behind the kidnappers. A normal man would be far behind but thanks to my mothers project Im not a normal man. My normal full speed of running exceeds that of a normal human.
While jumping across to the next building something grasps my eye. So as I land on the rooftop I instead of landing on my feet I roll on the ground and stay in a kneeling position. I do a quick glance to the building just ahead and notice that there are some men keeping looking out.
Lonnie Im going to cut off communications.
Your about to do the battle precognition thing right?
Ill open the line once Im finish, Midnighter out.
I finally got a handle on how to use my battle precognition and the key is to concentrate but Ive notice with Lonnie in my ear it makes it hard, almost impossible. Instantly I begin running through multiple combat situations in my mind covering nearly ever possible result before the first punch is even thrown. Now that I know what Im going to do Im going to take them out before they even know it.
Reflection of the scope gave the shooter away. This is good for me because now I have the upper hand. Firing the grappling hook at close ranger on the shooters chin will render him useless just enough for me to take out the others on the roof and then make my way inside to save the girl.
Oswald arrives back at The Iceberg Lounge after the Orphange Fund press conference.
He looks over his phone messages and returns many of the phone calls. One from P.Diddy wishing to shoot a music video at the lounge, another from city council members looking to get tickets for one of Rhianna's concerts at the lounge for their teenage kids, an interview with Summer Gleason, and then one from a source at the Hospital saying to call at once.
Oswald calls and after the phone conversation he is almost stunned beyond words.
Bruce Wayne seriously injuried in a home break-in. He is in critical condition, and it's way worse than anyone is willing to admit. There are unconfirmed rumors going around that his butler has been told to make sure his affairs are in order within the next 24 hours.
Oswald calls his publicist and says, "Please issue a statement to the press that Mr. Wayne is in our thoughts and prayers and we hope for a quick recovery that sort of thing you know what to do."
Oswald hangs up and walks over to his pet vulture Titan and feeds him.
He says, "Yes my dear friend. If Wayne should not pull through all his property in Gotham will likey go public, and three guesses who will have the inside track on them."
Oswald smiles and says, "Can you imagine using Wayne's companies as a front for some of my other more lucrative activities? The international connections would entrench me as the undisputed Warlord of Gotham."
I spend a few hours showing GL around Happy Harbor and making sure Snapper is doing alright. After that, I head back home and make sure everything in Central City and Keystone is quiet. I stop a mugging and prevent a jaywalking woman from being hit by an 18 wheeler. Then I head home and delve into another passion of mine...
Superherohype, the internet's source for all things involving the superhero boom, is a pretty cool place...except for that weird guy in Gotham who posts those Batman fanfics. Batman vs. Blacula and Blackenstein was cool...but those romantic stuff he writes is a bit much.
BZZZT!
My cellphone buzzes and I pull it out. There's a text from Val. Private stuff, not for the faint of heart. She moved to Hub City two weeks ago to take a job at their STAR Labs facility there. We've been doing the long distance thing. Truth is, I could go to Hub and back before she could send another text. But I don't know if I should tell her the truth. Ralph and Jay are the only ones who know my actual identity, not even my parents know. I know Jay will never tell, he has secrets of his own. Ralph's ability to keep quiet has actually surprised me. I trust Val, I love her...maybe I should tell her.
I send her a text back, telling her I'm on my way to Hub City and I'll see her in an hour. That should give her a good surprise.
Before Val's reply, the phone goes off again...this time it's a call.
"Hello?" "Yeah, I'm trying to reach Bartholomew Allen."
"This is him."
"Bart, this is Captain Darryl Frye over in Keystone City. You interviewed for a job here at the KCPD as a crime scene tech. If you're still interested, we'd love to hire you."
Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.
"Son? You still there?"
"Y-yeah. I'm still here. I'm interested and I'd want to work for you."
"Excellent. Report here at 7 AM, day after tomorrow. I'll show you around and get you started."
"Thank you, sir. I'll be there."
I hang up the phone and pump my fist in the air.
"WHOOO HOOO!"
What has two thumbs, kicks ass, and is now employed?
This guy!
I lean back in my chair and look at the computer screen, smiling. My smile starts to fade away as I think of my forthcoming job. I check the threads on the hype and see what's going on before I click over to Google and search for "Crime Scene Technician."
Oh, boy...I really hope I don't screw this up...
Kate Spencer is waiting in her FBI issued unmarked car as I pull up in my own car. The deserted field on the outskirts of Gotham is a better place to meet than the Gotham Ritz.
"Your tip planned out," she says as I step out of my car.
"I knew it would."
"Sergeant Murphy has been running a protection ring with the Bennett Beach storekeepers."
"What's your next move?"
"I've got my people shadowing him, getting more intel. But I need you for something again."
I narrow my eyes and look at Spencer.
"What?"
"Holiday. Something funny went down in that case. We're making it a RICO case so we need to establish the GCPD has a past history of corruption. Now why did you and the rest of the PD sweep it under the rug?"
"It is what it is. You read the report."
Holiday. That's off-limits. Lot of history. That's the case that made me...and the case that almost killed me. Drugs, corruption, and murder all wrapped up in a neat little bow. I had Gordon, Essen, and the whole MCU dead to rights...but I got my hands real dirty in the process. "So Lieutenant Michael Akins just snapped and started killing people based on a goddamn whim?"
"Read the report, sweetheart. He snapped years ago when he son was murdered.'
Spencer flips me off and scowls.
"I am not nor ever have been your sweetheart. So, you can go to hell."
"So can you. Tell your boss I ain't saying **** until I get my immunity."
With that, I jump back in my car and drive off in a fury.
******
IC: Vic Sage
Back in my apartment, trying to fill the gaps. What did Nyma have to do with the Kane case? Why did Driver die? Why did the Kanes? Who killed Bette and who killed her family?
A knock at the door, I push all my case files away and go to the door. A dark-haired woman in a pants suit is waiting for me. There's a badge in her hands.
"Mister Sage? I'm Special Agent Kate Spencer, FBI. I wanted to have a few minutes of your time."
I sit down in my recliner and look at Spencer as she sits on the couch.
"So, talk."
"Don't know if you keep up with the news, Mister Sage, but the FBI is investigating the GCPD on corruption charges."
"Shouldn't be too hard to find anything. Just point in any direction and you'll find dirt."
"It's not as simple as you think. Most of the cops we're looking into are hiding behind lawyers. We're going for RICO. From what I've heard, it makes sense. The police department is little more than a crime family anyway. If we're going for racketeering, we need to set up a clear and defined past of criminal activities. That's where you come in."
Ah, no...I know what that means.
"Tell me about Holiday, Mister Sage. You were involved in the investigation."
Holiday. The case that ruined my career. Drugs and corruption and murder all in a neat little package. Nygma cut deals and had the truth swept under the rug. That was my breaking point.
"No comment. You can get the case files. It's all there."
The FBI agent looks at me questionably.
"What does he have on you, Sage?"
"Who?"
"Nygma. He's a bully, I know the type. He has something on you, I can tell. Whatever it is, we can offer you protection if you testify."
Nygma's leverage is the fact that I put on a mask and kick the **** outta criminals on a nightly basis.
"Doesn't matter. Immunity of not, what he has on me will ruin me as a witness. I lose all my credibility."
She sighs and rubs her temples.
"Fine. Play this game. Here, I want you to have this..."
She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a business card.
"In case you ever feel like talking."
IC: Jim Gordon
The EKG machine to my right beats at a steady pace. I hate this goddamn hospital room. More than anything, I wish I could leave. The physical therapy this past week has been hard, but it's working. I can walk down the corridor before I give out. I won't be winning any footraces anytime soon, but I'm doing good.
The door to my room opens up and Sarah comes in. She smiles and gives me a quick peck on the lips as she sits.
"So who was that that called?"
"Bullock. He did what we asked and has results."
She pulls out her phone and brings up a picture. On the screen, Nygma is talking to some woman in a field.
"The lady is Kate Spencer, the lead FBI agent investigating the PD."
I lean back in my bed and sigh, closing my eyes. Damn you, Edward...Damn you.
"Your way will not work, Jim. He will not listen to reason. He's a snake, he always has been. He'd sell out his own mother to get ahead."
"I can't take this anymore, Sarah! My God, what have we become?! We're no better than the scum we fight."
She puts her fingers to my lips and shushes me.
"I understand, baby, I do...but if we can make it out of this...then we'll bring a new day to the PD. I promise."
"Fine," I say with a sigh. "Do it, but do it clean. Don't make his death seem so obvious."
"Don't worry. I got just the guy. Let me go call him."
Sarah leaves and I'm alone again. I look out the window at the city and shake my head. I've developed a soft spot for Nygma and he exploited it, trying to survive. Now, it looks like he won't make it until the end of the week.
I wake up again...but this time in a bed. It feels odd to be in a bed, considering I don't really have to sleep since my transformation into the cyborg. Makes me yearn for those days when my biggest challenge was actually getting out of bed to start my day. You know, those days when it was cold and all I wanted was to stay under the blankets.
Swinging my legs over the side of the mattress, I stand and exit to the large, glass atrium where I originally met the other members of The Authority. I find Jenny Sparks, their leader, staring back at me, "So you're awake. Good. Engineer manage to turn your embedded programming off. At least as well as she could. Some of the stuff in your head is more advanced than even she can manage."
"So I was programmed-"
"Yes. To kill us. Starting with Quantum," she nods. "They knew you were a good person, and they wanted to use your innocence against us, which almost worked. But now Stormwatch has given us a weapon and a way to destroy them."
"Listen, lady," I say annoyed, "I may be mostly machine, but I'm not some object. And I'm not a weapon. I'm a person, damn it."
"A person who wants revenge," she smiles wryly. "Don't try and deny it. It's human nature. We have the ability to get it for you. Now are you going to sit down and listen to my plan, or are you going to complain more than a little girl?"
With it hardly being the return to form that I was hoping for, I nevertheless bite my lip and heave myself over the rooftop's ledge, careful not to inflict any further damage on my person as I lightly tumble my way onto the concrete. I am still many things in this condition - this ankle be damned, but graceful is definitely not one of them. Flustered from the climb, I take a moment to breathe before slowly standing up, wincing at the pain as I gain proper footing. I had lined my boot with some leftover padding from my stay at Gotham General, hoping it would help allieviate the pressure, but there's really not much that someone can do for this. Other than sitting around and doing nothing, of course, allowing the bone to set itself and heal over a period of weeks.
To hell with that. I know in my heart of hearts that it's stupid, but I'm already addicted to the rush that comes along with doing this. When I was working with the precinct, it was there, nuturing itself inside of me. Flowing through my veins, you might say, as I realized that I needed the thrill of the nightlife. And were it not for Batman's shining influence, I would have never figured out a way to channel that into something productive. He helped me shape apart of who I am, and for that, I will always hold a level of appreciation towards him.
But we made a deal. He doesn't know it yet, but I heard exactly what he said while I was lying "asleep" in my hospital room after we took on The Dragon's forces. After an initial refusal, his mind was suddenly changed and he promised to train me to be like him. To do the things that he does, and operate in the methods of martial arts and stealth techniques. He'll never hear it from me, but he's the absolute best at what he does - I've seen him in action. The man's practically a warrior for this age, and the skills that he can offer me are exactly what I need to really get back at men like the late Salvatore Maroni.
As far as Gotham is concerned, however, Batman disappeared just last night. I read into the stories that the Globe's online newsfeed was doling out about it, and apparently he had a nasty little scape with the law. I skipped the more gruesome details, including how many of Branden's idiot SWAT wound up in the ICU after the encounter, but it didn't nessecarily bode well for the city's Dark Knight. He barely escaped the hounds that leveled an entire city block just to arrest him.
And now Bruce Wayne's in critical condition in the hospital. No one has said just how bad he's doing, but that status hasn't changed for twenty four hours. This is the same Bruce Wayne that I had to bodyguard during my short-lived stint as Andrea Beaumont, and the same that I threw away my career as an officer over. Not because of him, but because of who he was and what he was able to accomplished. I realized that if Wayne could fool the world into thinking he's some kind of airheaded socialite in order to masquerade as a vigilante after dark, I could take a page out of his book and adapt it to suite my own purposes.
Even through the pain, a smirk comes over my face as I focus the nightvision in the goggles on a particular building ahead.
"Ahh, there you are. I was wondering when we'd meet again."
Wayne Tower. Home to Bruce Wayne - home to Batman - and a penthouse that I've been intimately acquainted with. By now, the police have already combed over the scene after his aide gave them the cover story that it was ravaged by a gang of burglars. And with Mr. Jarvis staying at the hospital as a constant watch over Wayne's multiple surgeries since the day began, I'm going to take a wild guess and say that nobody's going to be home for quite some time.
Perfect. Wayne not be in the condition to help me capture Dimitrov anymore, but his equipment down in that cavern - the massive one that I discovered beneath the tower itself - will sure as hell give me everything I need to locate the bastard on my own. And since he's got more pressing matters on his hands, I'm sure that Batman won't mind in the least. After all, we had an agreement, right?
"Okay, Selina. Just remember... take it slow."
Pulling out the whip attached to my heel, I take another deep breath and toss it out at the seventy story tall skyscraper facing me. The cord latches around a gargoyle on the mid-level, and I firmly keep the handle locked in my palms.
"Forget the rooftops. That was a really bad idea!"
For all of my complaining about it, relief washes over me in a considerable wave as I make it to the top floor of the building - following a climb that took at least half an hour. Being forced to compensate for this sprained ankle is really starting to wear down on my nerves, but I digress. I'm just lucky to be alive after a stunt like that, given that so much as a momentary slip would have left me decorating the streets below. I finally make it over to the door, readying the lockpick from my belt.
Except that to my surprise, it isn't locked at all. Quite the opposite, infact. This door has been seriously damaged, with it's glass is shattered and it's foundations rocked. So much so tat I'm honestly starting to consider the possibility that Wayne's cover story was true. Low-level thieves may not have been involved, but someone was definitely here last night. And by the time that I push past the door and make it inside, my suspicions are immediately confirmed.
"My god..."
It's a mess. Everything that lines the walls, the tile on the floors, the paintings and the sculptures - it's all scattered and broken, the complete opposite of when I stayed here just a few months ago. Back then, it was all prim and proper, like someone had taken a great deal of care to make sure it was one of the cleanliest homes in all of Gotham. Now? You couldn't sell the interior to a hapless wino. I barely find myself moving as I survey all of the damage, avoiding the risk of stepping on something that would cut into me.
Yet even with the incredible amount of glass and scraps of marble, nothing stands out to me more than the sheer volume of blood. Who's blood is anyone's guess, but I almost feel like I know the answer before it comes. No wonder he's in the hospital - whoever got to him certainly did a number.
God. Maybe I should come back. This isn't what I...
I hear a crunch of glass echo out from behind me. My immediate reaction is panic, but it's soon overwhelmed by the sense of urgency and dread that forces me to pull out the whip again. I turn back towards the door and prepare myself for the worst, as a shadow makes it's way onto the outside balcony. What if it's the person that did this to Wayne? Thrills or not, I wouldn't want to be caught dead in their line of sight.
"Who's out there?! Tell me right now, or I promise to scratch out your..."
Lenses light up from the darkness, catching me off guard. He's wearing some sort of a mask, or a helmet, but I can't tell for sure. Before I know it, he's made it inside, ready to confront me. Damn it, Selina. What have you gotten yourself into this time?
"No, I've got a better idea. Either you tell me just what the hell you're doing here,"
They trickled out the airport's terminal one at a time, not going as one group in case they were being watched. Flag brought up the rear, and was the last one to exit the airport and head into the city. He caught a cab and instructed the driver to the location he wished to go. Fifteen minutes later, he was stepping out of the cab after paying his driver a few rubles. Flag slug his canvas bag over his shoulders and wrapped his jacket tight against himself to fight the Russian cold. He walked down an alleyway and took a right into a dead end...and nearly bumped into a waiting Amanda Waller.
"Were you followed?" She asked. Waiting behind her was the whole team, save for two members.
"I watched out the back of the cab. Unless I had a front tail, which I highly doubt, I'm clear."
"Good. Now that we're all here, let's head out. We've got to meet up with Turner and Kuttler."
Waller turned to the massive man standing in the back of the group.
"Mister Desmond, you remember where you're meeting us at?"
"Outskirts of town," Blockbuster grumbled. "I remember...'
"Good. And Roland? You ain't there, I press one button and go Gallagher all on that deformed melon you call a head. Got that?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
Waller lead the rest of the group out of the alley while Blockbuster took a left and went further down the alleyway towards the west.
One Mile East
Vladivostok Train Terminal
Bronze Tiger navigated through the crowds at the train station. Calculator was walking by his side, a laptop tucked under Kuttler's arm.
"You've got two minutes to get it done? Will that be enough time?"
"Please," he replied, pushing his glasses up off the bridge of his nose. "It took me all of five minutes to bypass all the firewalls in the Spanish Government's servers and get into the Finance Minister's books. Five minutes after that and the country of Spain was bankrupt and I had six billion dollars."
"Well, considering you're not on a beach somewhere with all that money, I'm still wary. Just get in there and do you job. Hold on..."
Turner walked away from Calculator and towards an unsuspecting security guard. The man turned just in time for Turner to come crashing into him.
"Сукин сын!" The guard spat out.
"I'm sorry. I didn't see where I was going. I'm sorry, sir."
Turner held his hands up and stepped away from the guard, still apologizing. He turned around and walked to Kuttler, slipping a card key into his hands.
"Remember what Waller said," Turner mumbled as he passed him, "Nerve center to the train station is down the corridor, third door on the left. You got two minutes. Go."
Kuttler hurried off and down the corridor to a door with a bright red warning written in Cyrillic stamped on it. Calculator slipped the key card into the door and pushed it open after it buzzed him through. He was inside a room filled with computers and servers. The four operators in the room were too busy with their computers to notice Kuttler come in. He sneaked over to a server and booted up his laptop.
Sticking a USB cable into his laptop and running it to the server, he balanced the computer on his knee and went to work. It took Kuttler just a few seconds to bypass the security firewalls and get into the train station's mainframe. He piggybacked off that mainframe into the Russian Transport Bureau's database. All told, it took him a minute to do exactly what Waller wanted. Once it was done, he unplugged his laptop from the server and shut it down. He quickly left the control room and was back in the terminal just a few moments later.
"Done," Kuttler said to Turner once he was within earshot.
"With thirty seconds to spare. Which one is it?"
"It's on track 24." Turner and Klutter made their way to a train engine standing alone by itself, only one passenger car hitched to it.
"Let's get to it."
Klutter climbed up into the engine while Turner entered the passenger car. Five minutes later, the rest of the team walked up to track 24 and entered into the passenger car.
"Welcome to the HQ for the rest of the mission, folks. Get your gear settled. Sarge, get your computer booted up. I wanna know the progress of the Russian convoy."
"Yes ma'am," was his gruff reply.
"Flag, go check up on Kuttler. See how it's going."
Flag dropped his bag and headed to the engine. Inside, Calculator had his computer hooked up to the train's controls.
"How's it going?"
"Almost there. We got real lucky the Russians overhauled their transportation systems. If we were dealing with Cold War era stuff, we'd be up s*** creek without a paddle."
"So, how in the hell are we going to go across Siberia in this thing and not get caught?"
"Simple enough, really," Kuttler said, peering at Flag over the tops of his glasses. "I hacked into the transport bureau and had this train listed as carrying a VIP, identity classified. That'll give us clearance at any check point from here to Moscow."
Kuttler typed on his keyboard quickly and hit the enter key. The train shuddered and began to slowly roll down the track.
"Aaaand now I can control our speed and direction. Damn, I'm good."
The train rolled out of Vladivostok Station and chugged through the town. It came to a stop on the outskirts of town long enough for Blockbuster to climb aboard.
"Alright, people," Waller announced from inside the passenger car. "We got a few thousand kilometers between us and our rendezvous point with the train convoy. We got about two days of down time coming our way. Get plenty of rest, but don't get soft."
Caculator started the engine back up and it began to pick up speed as Vladivostok faded behind them and they entered the open expanse of Siberia.
Siberia
1,600 Kilometers East of Chita
36 Hours to Rendezvous
The train the Squad was on rolled across the Siberian landscape. To the south was the Ural Mountains and China. The Chinese province of Da Hinggan Ling was a little more than a hundred kilometers away.
Inside the lone passenger car attached to the engine, the members of Task Force X busied themselves with activities to pass the time. Waller and Sarge Steel were going over the finer details of the assault plan in the front of the car. Rick Flag sat a few rows behind them. He was disassembling and cleaning his .45 pistol. A napping Bronze Tiger was two seats to his left. Nightshade was across the aisle on Flag's left. Her nose was buried in a book. Three rows behind her Count Vertigo sat, he was reading a magazine on rare and expensive wines. Calculator sat directly behind him. He was on his laptop and checking the train's speed and direction to makes sure everything was fine. In the back of the car, Deadshot sat with Blockbuster. They were playing poker on the dining table sat up in the back.
"Give me three," Desmond grunted. He placed three cards on the table. Lawton drew three cards and slid them at Blockbuster.
"Dealer takes two," Lawton said, placing two cards down and picking two new ones up.
"So this mission seems pretty ****ed, right?" Desmond reached for two chips and tossed them into the center of the table. "Bet."
"They're all ****ed up, rookie. But that's something you'll never have to deal with." Lawton reached for four chips and placed them into the pot. "Call and raise."
"Yeah, you're right. I've got my parole after this. I'm as free as a bird." Blockbuster placed three chips into the pot. "Call and raise."
"You won't live to see that parole," Lawton said, he added two more chips to the pot. "It's just a fact. Raise."
"Look at me, Lawton. I popped mother****er's heads off with ease back home."
"This ain't back home. It don't matter how big your dick is, what matters is survival, the luck of the draw. You don't have that, I can tell. Bolt and Brick didn't have that and they got killed. Same thing with Psi and Mindboggler. It ain't about fate or serving a higher purpose. It's about pure animal instincts and luck. You got a ****ton of one, and none of the other."
"I'll show you luck, ***hole," Desmond spat. He threw a chip into the pot. "Call and show 'em."
Blockbuster flipped his cards over. He had one seven of hearts along with a pair of aces and a pair of eights.
"Two pair, dickwad."
"And an ironic two pair, if I may say so. The dead man's hand."
Lawton laid out his cards in order. He had the two of spades, the three of spades, the four of spades, the five of spades, and the six of spades.
"Straight flush."
Lawton reached over and scooped the chips into his hand.
"This is why I'll never die on a mission, no matter how hard I try."
While Blockbuster and Deadshot played cards, Flag finished reassembling his pistol. He slid in the clip, flicked on the safety, and placed it back into its shoulder holster.
"Flag," Waller called. "Come here for a sec."
Flag stood up and walked to the front where Waller and Steel were waiting. She handed Flag a metallic wristband. There were glowing buttons on the band with the codenames of all the criminal team members stamped under the buttons. Above the red buttons were black ones with the names of the rest of the Squad stamped under them.
"Here's your leash for the mission. Anyone acts up or goes rogue, don't hesitate to blow their heads off."
"And what about these black buttons? They weren't here the last time I used it."
"Oh, those..." Waller exchanged looks with Steel before she looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody else was within earshot. "Look, Flag, I meant what I said about not getting captured. If one of us does, even the non-criminals, we have to be prepared..."
"Wait...are you saying you put those nanites into our blood?!"
"Keep your voice down," Waller said in a stern tone. "Sarge and I got them in our blood too. Flag, this isn't us going up against some third world terrorists. This is a world power we've invaded. If they capture us and find out who we are, there's no telling what kind of s*** this could start. I'd rather die than be taken alive. After what happened in Africa, I'd think you'd feel the same."
Flag narrowed his eyes at Waller. "You should have at least asked our permission."
"Why? So you could bellyache and whine? Well, considering you're doing it now, maybe I should have told you up front. Listen, Flag, if this goes right we won't even need to use the nanites on any of us. Once the mission is over, I give all of us the stuff to wash them out. No harm, no foul."
Flag took the wristband from Waller and attached it to his right wrist.
"I'm tempted to now push the button marked 'The Wall.'"
"Ha. Sorry, doesn't work like that. All the non-criminal buttons are dormant until they're activated with my code."
"Right," Flag said in a sarcastic tone. "Good to see I have your complete trust and faith."
"I trust you, Flag, only about as far as I can throw you, but I trust you."
Flag rolled his eyes and walked back to his seat, the metallic wristband now strapped to his arm.
"No, Lantern Rayner," I nod at the Blue Lantern. I honestly didn't expect Rayner to show up. He's a powerful and resourceful Lantern, but has always seemed incredibly loyal to the Guardians' way. But having him here gives us an invaluable fighter. "You are right on time. Please, have a seat."
Once the final member of my little, trusted circle has done so, I continue, "I've called you here tonight to discuss the state of the Lantern Corps. We all know of the impurity experiments the so-called New Guardians, so I'll spare going into them. As the three of you know, I find the choices of subjects for said experiments lacking. Not that they won't be able to tap into the impurities, but on the fact that they won't be able to control them. And due to that, I believe we must be ready."
"And how are we going to do that?" Rayner asks. "I mean, we're only four Lanterns. If others begin to fall to the impurities, we'll be dead in minutes."
"Too true," I acknowledge. "Us four against a wave of yellow, red, and orange ring-wielders would not last long. Which is why we need to recruit our own readiness team."
"You're kidding, right?" Katma half-laughs. "Sinestro, we get away with these private little meetings because I hide their true intentions from my superiors. I can't cover up a recruiting drive."
"Which is why we're only going to recruit those Lanterns which we know are trustworthy," I respond with conviction. "Do not approach those which you know are fickle or untrustworthy. I only want the best fighters, the smartest tacticians, and the strongest wills we have. Anything less will be unsatisfactory."
"And if this plot is uncovered? Then what?" Arkillo grunts his first words of the meeting.
"Place the blame on me," I respond. "Tell the Guardians I threatened you into participating. I will not have you taking the fall and leaving the Corps even more unprepared.Now, I believe it would be prudent to end this meeting. Keep in touch, and be vigilant."
Oswald walks into a dimly lit conference room underneath the Iceberg Lounge. Seated at the table is a vitual Who's Who of Gotham's most powerful underworld figures.
He closes the door and then everyone turns their attention to him and stand up.
Oswald says, "Thank you all for coming here today on such short notice."
Alexi Rockolov says, "Hey when you call a meeting I think it's safe to say it's not only serious it's pretty close to getting an order from the almighty himself."
Oswald chuckles and says, " Thank you my friend and I'm glad that you and the others recognize that if I call a meeting such as this it's because of the utmost importance."
He motions for everyone to sit down and asks, "Is the food and drink to everyone's satisfaction?"
Everyone nods and says things along the lines of "fine", "great" and "wonderful."
Oswald sits at the head of the table and says, "Excellent. Ladies and Gentlemen by now you all have heard about Bruce Wayne being in the hospital in critical condition."
Everyone acknowledges this and Oswald continues, "According to his PR people it was a home invasion. My question is this; was anyone in this room involved in the invasion?"
Everyone shakes their head or replies with a negative response.
Oswald says, "The last thing any of us needs is any undue attention that could come our way with something like this, and I've got a hard time believing that some 3rd rate punk managed to get luck enough to get into a building that probably houses a state of the art security system, into the Penthouse Suite, and then beat the crap out of Wayne without some serious skills that go far beyond a common thief."
Marlena DeGard asks, "Could it be someone new to Gotham, or someone who was hired to do this and left town once it was done?"
Oswald replies, "I considered that Marlena, but I checked all my contacts here and internationally. The people capable of pulling this off all had alibies, and the only ones capable, or with a motive, of hiring someone for something like this are in this room."
A uneasy silence falls over the room and Oswald says, "And judging from your reactions and body language that isn't the case. I've also been in contact with my sources in the police department and what kind of person does a home invasion and yet there is no reports of anything stolen? There are a lot of questions about this, but none that we need to concern ourselves with at this time."
Oswald lights a Cuban Cigar and says, "Here are the known facts: 1) Wayne is the hospital in a most critical state. 2) The Police have no leads on the break-in. 3) Every resource at Wayne Enterprises and the Hospital is being used to save Gotham's Golden Child. Everyone is focused on him. 4) Wayne Stocks are taking a hit. If Wayne dies his company will crumble without his name and charisma to keep it a float. Leading Wayne Enterprises to a very vulnerable place right now."
Alexi says, "So are you suggesting we slip someone into the Hospital to deal with Wayne?"
Oswald says, "No no Alexi. From what I've heard Wayne is under constant guard. No one can get within a floor of him. No no I'm thinking possibly something a bit more subtle."
Oswald takes a long drag and says, "Hostile takeover through the very same system that has allowed Wayne to prosper. I've got some people going over the deeds and so forth looking for some loopholes that might be useful. Right now Wayne's life is in a great deal of chaos, and in chaos there is opportunity if you know how to use it."
I sit down in my recliner and look at Spencer as she sits on the couch.
"So, talk."
"Don't know if you keep up with the news, Mister Sage, but the FBI is investigating the GCPD on corruption charges."
"Shouldn't be too hard to find anything. Just point in any direction and you'll find dirt."
"It's not as simple as you think. Most of the cops we're looking into are hiding behind lawyers. We're going for RICO. From what I've heard, it makes sense. The police department is little more than a crime family anyway. If we're going for racketeering, we need to set up a clear and defined past of criminal activities. That's where you come in."
Ah, no...I know what that means.
"Tell me about Holiday, Mister Sage. You were involved in the investigation."
Holiday. The case that ruined my career. Drugs and corruption and murder all in a neat little package. Nygma cut deals and had the truth swept under the rug. That was my breaking point.
"No comment. You can get the case files. It's all there."
The FBI agent looks at me questionably.
"What does he have on you, Sage?"
"Who?"
"Nygma. He's a bully, I know the type. He has something on you, I can tell. Whatever it is, we can offer you protection if you testify."
Nygma's leverage is the fact that I put on a mask and kick the **** outta criminals on a nightly basis.
"Doesn't matter. Immunity of not, what he has on me will ruin me as a witness. I lose all my credibility."
She sighs and rubs her temples.
"Fine. Play this game. Here, I want you to have this..."
She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a business card.
"In case you ever feel like talking."
IC: Jim Gordon
The EKG machine to my right beats at a steady pace. I hate this goddamn hospital room. More than anything, I wish I could leave. The physical therapy this past week has been hard, but it's working. I can walk down the corridor before I give out. I won't be winning any footraces anytime soon, but I'm doing good.
The door to my room opens up and Sarah comes in. She smiles and gives me a quick peck on the lips as she sits.
"So who was that that called?"
"Bullock. He did what we asked and has results."
She pulls out her phone and brings up a picture. On the screen, Nygma is talking to some woman in a field.
"The lady is Kate Spencer, the lead FBI agent investigating the PD."
I lean back in my bed and sigh, closing my eyes. Damn you, Edward...Damn you.
"Your way will not work, Jim. He will not listen to reason. He's a snake, he always has been. He'd sell out his own mother to get ahead."
"I can't take this anymore, Sarah! My God, what have we become?! We're no better than the scum we fight."
She puts her fingers to my lips and shushes me.
"I understand, baby, I do...but if we can make it out of this...then we'll bring a new day to the PD. I promise."
"Fine," I say with a sigh. "Do it, but do it clean. Don't make his death seem so obvious."
"Don't worry. I got just the guy. Let me go call him."
Sarah leaves and I'm alone again. I look out the window at the city and shake my head. I've developed a soft spot for Nygma and he exploited it, trying to survive. Now, it looks like he won't make it until the end of the week.
I hang the mic back up and sigh. Here I am, sitting in my car halfway down the block from some building the mob runs a book making scam out of, with no backup. I'm supposed to supervise the raid. ****ing Essen, she's doing this on purpose. Keeping me at arm's length while Gordon's on the mend. I pull a cigarette out and light it just as dispatch finally gets back to me.
"Dispatch to 10-24, go ahead."
"I'm here on Baker, waiting for the rest of the MCU guys supposed to take part in that 516. Where the hell are they?" "One second, 10-24....10-20 is en route to your 20. ETA, five minutes."
"Fine. 10-24 out."
I take a long drag on my cigarette and blow the smoke out the cracked window. Another unmarked car pulls up beside me a few minutes later. The skinny white man and his fat, black partner step out and approach me.
"Inspector," Crowe says.
"Nelson, Sarge. Where's everyone else?"
"This is all we're doing," Davies grunts. "My snitch inside says they're running a skeleton crew. Four guys tops. Two of us go in the front door, while someone watches the back."
"Fine, fine. Let's get it over with. You two take the front, I'll watch the back."
"Think you could take the front with me?" Crowe asks.
"I got a bad back," Davies grunts.
"Goddammit, let's just go."
I stomp away from the two of them and walk up the block, pulling my Glock from my hip holster. Crowe and Davies catches up just outside the building. Crowe has a pump in his hands while Davies has a .38 revolver. Davies scurries around the back and we wait a full minute before going in.
Crowe kicks open the door and leads the way with his shotgun.
"GCPD, ****ers. Freeze!"
Three men around a table shoot upright. Before they even have a chance to move, Crowe blasts them with a shotgun round. Two of the men fall to the floor, buckshot in their chests. Crowe racks another round and shoots the one remaining crook in the stomach.
"Crowe!" I yell at him. "What the **** was that?!"
"Just doing my job and making it look like self defense."
He turns his shotgun on me and racks another load. My eyes go wide and I hit the deck as a round flies over my head. Sarge, from the back door, fires a few rounds at me that all miss wide. I roll to my right as Crowe blasts another shotgun round. Pellets scrape the side of my face, but the majority of the shell buries itself into the floor. I pull my gun and aim for Crowe's chest. Pulling the trigger, three shots hit him in the chest, center mass. He crumples to the ground. Sarge rushes over with his gun raised. One squeeze of the trigger, the bullet catches him in the cheek and blows out the back of his head. He falls next to his dying partner, dead on impact.
I crawl over to Crowe's wheezing body and grab him by the collar.
"Who set me up!"
"F...**** you, Nygma!"
He coughs and blood dribbles out of his mouth. Crowe's eyes roll into the back of his head and he gives out a final death rattle. Standing up on shaky legs, I look over the carnage and chaos. I swallow hard to hold down the bile rushing up my throat.
Gordon did this. He knows, somehow he knows I'm informing...I'm a dead man walking...but I'll be goddamned if I make sure he goes before me.
All the shots, it won't be long before a patrolman shows up. I rush out of the building and jump in my car, driving off in a hurry and reaching for my cellphone.
"Hello, this is FBI Special Agent Kate Spencer. I'm sorry I couldn't take you call, but leave you name and number after the beep and I'll return your call as soon as I can."
"Spencer, It's Nygma. I'm ready to come in and tell you what I know...Holiday and the rest of it, everything. I'm gonna set the whole GCPD on fire and watch it burn..."
IC: Jim Gordon
It's late when Sarah wheels me down the hallways of Gotham Central's top floor. Anyone who might even see me has gone home for the day. I don't want them to get their hopes up and get the rumor mill fired back up. It's just a visit to my office.
"I haven't touched it since you left that night," Sarah says as she flips on the lights. The same case notes, files, and papers are all in place on my desk. She wheels me over to the desk and I look down at all the paperwork for anything that might jog my memory. The day I was shot is still a blur. I remember nothing about it at all, except leaving the house to go to work.
All the paper work in front of me looks like standard stuff...except.
"What's this?" I ask Sarah, holding up a sticky note. On the yellow note is a bunch of numbers scribbled across it, underneath it is is a PIN number of 2104.
"Looks like it's a bank account number...you don't know what it is or where it's from?"
"No...let's find out."
Sarah walks away as he phone rings, she pulls it out and has a short conversation.
"Jim," she says once she's off the phone, "Crowe and Davies are dead..."
"Nygma was involved?"
"They don't know yet, but it looks like it."
"Alright, but out an APB. I want Nygma found and I want him taken alive. It's time he and I have a chat."
The Atom floats through the room at a microscopic size studying the crime scene.
Finally she returns to 6 inches and floats next to Pete Ross.
He asks, "So did you see anything?"
The Atom replies, "Oh I saw plenty, and what I saw leads me to one answer and that answer triggers three more questions and each question is harder than the other."
Pete says, "That's usually how it works. What are you thinking?"
The Atom floats to an area away from everyone else and Pete follows her.
The Atom says, "What I've seen so far is to put it mildly out there."
Pete says, "Atom the President is going to be calling me within the next hour wanting answers I've gotta give him something or life is going to get ugly for me and a lot other people. Especially those who wear capes and masks since you're the ones that this was directed at."
The Atom says, "All-right. There is someone or something bigger than what we've seen at work behind the scenes."
Pete says, "Like Lex Luthor?"
The Atom looks somewhat surprised as Pete says, "I've had my suspicions for a while on him but I can't prove anything. Yet!"
Atom shakes her head and says, "No but something this big he's got his hands in the cookie jar. Proving it though is another thing, but I digress."
She floats down to a table and looks at Pete and says, "You've heard of 'The String Theory' right?"
Pete nods and says, "Yeah that life is a peice of string and when you ball it up the string touches other parts of the string it's what some of our Theorists are basing the hope of time travel on. Well maybe someday."
The Atom replies, "Yeah that's basically it, but what this is it's kinda like that. The Legion of Doom were able to open fibers of the string. Except they knew where they were going and how to get back there and instead of it being temporal it was based upon being focused on a specfic location."
Pete nods and says, "Like the transporters on 'Star Trek' if I get your meaning? Very specific locations."
The Atom asks, "Are you a Trekkie Pete?"
Pete smirks and says, "Continue please."
The Atom says, "Anyway for something like that to be done by us would take the top 1% of scientists at LexCorp, Wayne Enterprises, Star Labs, Met-U, The CIA, Gotham U, and Central City Tech at least 50 years working 24/7 and even then it would only be a percentage, maybe 2%, of the work needed to even agree on a framework for something like this. This is way out of our realm."
Pete takes an uneasy breath and The Atom says, "Not to mention we are talking about the power to rip open a portal like they went through in space and solid matter would take a generator the size of Madison Square Garden, and even then if you're lucky it would open for maybe 5 seconds."
Pete says, "All-right you've got me convinced so far. Got anymore?"
The Atom says, "I studied the remains nothing not even a metahuman has the powers to do what happened to these people. According to the database you gave me no one has powers on a scale like this. Something else bigger than all of us is behind this."
Pete asks, "Then why not invade us all at once and get it over with?"
The Atom replies, "By calling out the Justice League and trying to take us out they send a message of 'Resistance is futile' and we're taking you as a whole not in bits and peices. Slow torture."
Pete shakes his head and smirks at the Borg quote and says, "You're not gonna let me live that down are you?"
Atom replies, "Relax I own a set of Spock ears. Anyway that's what I got from just first impressions. I'm gonna head back to HQ and do some more computer work. I'll check back with you here in a few hours."
Pete nods and says, "Sounds good at least I got something to give to the President."
Atom says, "All-right then. Live long and prosper."
Pete shakes his head as The Atom travels back to the Hall of Justice.
She emerges from the computer and notices her costume as several glowing particles.
Great the stuff I was studying must've gotten on my costume and had a reaction to my trip through cyberspace. Better hit the decontamination chamber.
The Atom activates the computer scanner to make sure the computer is unaffected and activates the air-filtration system as well.
Once she is through the decontamination process she sees the particles are non-toxic.
The Atom then makes a note in the Justice League's computer of her findings at the U-N & the particles on her costume.
These particles though might give us a clue as to what is behind this.
The Atom takes a sample of the particles and puts them on microscope slide.
Still can't see a thing! I guess I need to take a closer look.
She begins to Shrink smaller and smaller on the microscope. Until she realizes something and she is now frightened.
These particles have a gravity pull to them pulling me closer to them...I can't break free even shifting my weight is useless...I can't do it...I gotta grow back.
The Atom tries to return to 6 inches but realizes
I can't grow...I'm shrinking out of control into nothingness!
The Atom shrinks smaller and smaller until she sees a bright red & blue flash and then....she's gone from our universe.
Siberia
1,600 Kilometers East of Chita
36 Hours to Rendezvous
The train the Squad was on rolled across the Siberian landscape. To the south was the Ural Mountains and China. The Chinese province of Da Hinggan Ling was a little more than a hundred kilometers away.
Inside the lone passenger car attached to the engine, the members of Task Force X busied themselves with activities to pass the time. Waller and Sarge Steel were going over the finer details of the assault plan in the front of the car. Rick Flag sat a few rows behind them. He was disassembling and cleaning his .45 pistol. A napping Bronze Tiger was two seats to his left. Nightshade was across the aisle on Flag's left. Her nose was buried in a book. Three rows behind her Count Vertigo sat, he was reading a magazine on rare and expensive wines. Calculator sat directly behind him. He was on his laptop and checking the train's speed and direction to makes sure everything was fine. In the back of the car, Deadshot sat with Blockbuster. They were playing poker on the dining table sat up in the back.
"Give me three," Desmond grunted. He placed three cards on the table. Lawton drew three cards and slid them at Blockbuster.
"Dealer takes two," Lawton said, placing two cards down and picking two new ones up.
"So this mission seems pretty ****ed, right?" Desmond reached for two chips and tossed them into the center of the table. "Bet."
"They're all ****ed up, rookie. But that's something you'll never have to deal with." Lawton reached for four chips and placed them into the pot. "Call and raise."
"Yeah, you're right. I've got my parole after this. I'm as free as a bird." Blockbuster placed three chips into the pot. "Call and raise."
"You won't live to see that parole," Lawton said, he added two more chips to the pot. "It's just a fact. Raise."
"Look at me, Lawton. I popped mother****er's heads off with ease back home."
"This ain't back home. It don't matter how big your dick is, what matters is survival, the luck of the draw. You don't have that, I can tell. Bolt and Brick didn't have that and they got killed. Same thing with Psi and Mindboggler. It ain't about fate or serving a higher purpose. It's about pure animal instincts and luck. You got a ****ton of one, and none of the other."
"I'll show you luck, ***hole," Desmond spat. He threw a chip into the pot. "Call and show 'em."
Blockbuster flipped his cards over. He had one seven of hearts along with a pair of aces and a pair of eights.
"Two pair, dickwad."
"And an ironic two pair, if I may say so. The dead man's hand."
Lawton laid out his cards in order. He had the two of spades, the three of spades, the four of spades, the five of spades, and the six of spades.
"Straight flush."
Lawton reached over and scooped the chips into his hand.
"This is why I'll never die on a mission, no matter how hard I try."
While Blockbuster and Deadshot played cards, Flag finished reassembling his pistol. He slid in the clip, flicked on the safety, and placed it back into its shoulder holster.
"Flag," Waller called. "Come here for a sec."
Flag stood up and walked to the front where Waller and Steel were waiting. She handed Flag a metallic wristband. There were glowing buttons on the band with the codenames of all the criminal team members stamped under the buttons. Above the red buttons were black ones with the names of the rest of the Squad stamped under them.
"Here's your leash for the mission. Anyone acts up or goes rogue, don't hesitate to blow their heads off."
"And what about these black buttons? They weren't here the last time I used it."
"Oh, those..." Waller exchanged looks with Steel before she looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody else was within earshot. "Look, Flag, I meant what I said about not getting captured. If one of us does, even the non-criminals, we have to be prepared..."
"Wait...are you saying you put those nanites into our blood?!"
"Keep your voice down," Waller said in a stern tone. "Sarge and I got them in our blood too. Flag, this isn't us going up against some third world terrorists. This is a world power we've invaded. If they capture us and find out who we are, there's no telling what kind of s*** this could start. I'd rather die than be taken alive. After what happened in Africa, I'd think you'd feel the same."
Flag narrowed his eyes at Waller. "You should have at least asked our permission."
"Why? So you could bellyache and whine? Well, considering you're doing it now, maybe I should have told you up front. Listen, Flag, if this goes right we won't even need to use the nanites on any of us. Once the mission is over, I give all of us the stuff to wash them out. No harm, no foul."
Flag took the wristband from Waller and attached it to his right wrist.
"I'm tempted to now push the button marked 'The Wall.'"
"Ha. Sorry, doesn't work like that. All the non-criminal buttons are dormant until they're activated with my code."
"Right," Flag said in a sarcastic tone. "Good to see I have your complete trust and faith."
"I trust you, Flag, only about as far as I can throw you, but I trust you."
Flag rolled his eyes and walked back to his seat, the metallic wristband now strapped to his arm.
Siberia 100 Kilometers East of Chita
1 Hour Until Rendezvous
The train carrying the members of Task Force X came to a stop on the tracks. Snow covered the ground all around the train tracks. Inside the passenger car, Amanda Waller held court one final time.
"Final briefing, people, so listen up."
The Squad members gathered around her at the front of the car. Everyone was decked out in their gear, colorful costumes mixed with weapons.
"There are gonna be two teams assaulting the train convoy, three teams total. Flag, Vertigo, and Blockbuster are team one. You're in charge of frontal assault and starting he ambush. Bronze Tiger, Deadshot, and Nightshade are team two. You'll swing around and launch an assault from the back. Sarge, Calculator, and I are team three, the support team. We'll be here in a reserve capacity, jamming any communications the Russians try to send. Both assault teams will fight their way to the middle. Once there, Blockbuster will use that brute strength of his and tow the car carrying the alien fighter to our train. We'll attach it to our engine and then comes the hard part. Dismissed."
Flag stood up and slung the M4 in his hands over his shoulder.
"You heard the lady. Team one, you're on me. Team two, follow Tiger's lead. Let's move out."
Flag led the way out the car. He jumped down on the ground. His boots crunched against the snow. The rest of the followed him out of the car and down the tracks. There were dense clumps of trees on both sides of the train tracks. Flag looked around and got his bearings.
"This must be a small forest or something. Perfect place for an ambush. Ben, we'll set up here. Your team can hunker down in the trees about 400 yards away."
"You got it, Colonel."
"Keep an eye out for the convoy. Signal when it's in sight."
"Can do."
The three members of the second assault team disappeared into the trees while Flag and his two members crouched down around the shrubbery at the edge of the train tracks. He could see his breath curling out of his mouth as he breathed.
"Here's the plan," he addressed Vertigo and Blockbuster. "Once they're in range, we're gonna hit them with some guerilla tactics. I fire the first salvo and disappear into the woods. Vertigo steps up and disorients them while Blockbuster and I step back out and mow them down."
Forty minutes later, Flag watched from his vantage point as a train engine rolled to a stop. Behind it was a passenger car and a freight car was attached to the passenger car. Nearly a dozen soldiers jumped out of the passenger car and began to advance towards the Squad's train.
"Flag to Bronze Tiger, go when you hear the loud boom. Waller, are we go?"
"Yeah, all communications within a mile radius are being blocked. Good hunting, Flagman."
"Roger that."
Flag slid the grenade launcher attachment to the end of his M4 and aimed for the engine. He took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.
FWOOM!
The grenade shot out of the barrel and twirled end over end in the air until it struck the engine.
BOOM!
Flames began to race along the outside of the engine. Many of the soldiers fell to the ground while others swung their rifles towards Flag. Before they could properly aim, Vertigo activated his eyepiece. The soldiers began to wobble and their knees buckled as the sensation of vertigo overcame them.
"Now, Blockbuster!"
The large criminal stepped out of the woods, a machine gun clamped in his hands. He took aim at the downed soldiers and opened fire along with Flag.
Bratatatatatatatatata!
Flag ordered a cease fire once all the soldiers were down. Further down the train, Flag could hear gunshots.
"Flag to Bronze Tiger, gimme a sit-rep."
"We're making progress. We could use some backup."
"We're on the way. Flag out."
Flag, Vertigo, and Blockbuster began to advance on the train. The engine was now completely engulfed in flames. They were almost to the passenger car when Waller chimed in.
"Heads up, Flag. Company's coming your way."
As soon as she said that, Flag could hear the distant thump of rotors growing louder. A Hind gunship appeared over the tree top and let loose with automatic fire.
"Everyone fall back!"
Flag rushed towards the treeline with Blockbuster and Vertigo running in his wake. Bullets whizzed over his head and tore up the branches in the woods, chunks of wood exploded all around him as he jumped and slid for cover behind a tree.
Flag cursed under his breath and watched the Hind take another pass over the area, firing more machine gun rounds into the woods. He took a deep breath and began to assess the situation. He needed a new plan, he needed to take out the Hind.
Atom feels herself falling at great speed and then slowing up until finally she lands.
Atom then sits up and as she shakes her head and opens her eyes she sees nothing but woods all around her and a babbling brook nearby.
Okay I'm somewhere in a forest emphasis on somewhere because I've got no clue where I am. The only thing I know for sure this isn't earth well at least as I know it. Let's see if...
She tries using all her powers and discovers her powers are gone.
Time for some assessment and then a nervous breakdown.All-right Atom look at this mathematically. Add one over eager scientist who is also a superhero trying to save the world plus several unknown particles that I've been exposed to plus my unique body chemistry plus not knowing where in the universe I am plus at my actual size I am so small J'onn probably can't lock in on me telepathically minus my powers being gone equals out to one thing.
Atom shakes her head and says, "I'm so screwed."
Just then she hears and feels a rolling rumble.
Oh this is just getting better and better. Time to get out of the way!
She retreats into a thick grove of trees and sees two opposing forces heading towards each other on horseback. Each side is wearing a suits of Armor and wielding Medieval weapons. Atom shakes her head twice
I've landed in 'The Twilight Zone'! Any second now Rod Serling is going to come strolling out I just know it. Or maybe even Allen Funt.
She watches the battle ensue. Each side taking losses and the brutality is unlike anything Atom has ever seen.
I don't know if I should consider jumping in and helping out, but I've got no idea where to get involved not to mention people are dying. When I get into a fight I'm looking to subdue and let the police take it from there. This is over my head. These people are playing for blood!
Just then she notices one of the Warriors has a symbol on his armor, but not just any symbol a symbol very similar to the one she has.
You've got to be kidding me!?!?! Well on the bright side I know who the good guys are...I think.
As the battle winds down the warrior who wears the symbol says, "My fellow Morlaidhans we have won the day, but be there no doubt this is but a small part of a far greater war that we have been waging for generations against the dreaded Agamons. I have no doubt though that one day we will live in peace and freedom shall be ours! And I am prepared to lead our people to that day or die trying!"
Those Morlaidhans left raise their swords and yell, "HAIL PRINCE LAETHWYN!"
Just then an Agamon warrior rises up from the side and raises his crossbow. Atom sees him and yells as she springs out of the trees, "PRINCE LAETHWYN GET DOWN!"
She grabs a sword and shatters the crossbow and in one motion she hits the warrior with the flat part of the sword shattering his nose and knocking him unconscious.
The Morlaidhans surround Atom and the fallen warrior. She turns and sees everyone looking at her.
Laethwyn approaches and says, "Who are you? Where do you come from and what are these strange threads that you..." He then notices the Symbol on her chest and says, "You wear our symbol, and you've saved my life for that I am grateful. Again though what is your name and where do you come from?"
Atom says, "My name is..." she pushes her mask back revealing her secret identity and says, "Rhiannon I come from..." she fights a building smirk and says with a straight face, "Tattoine. Some place far far away."
He motions for his horse to be brought to him and he says, "Interesting.Come with me. You are to meet my family and to rewarded for your bravery. I wish to learn more about you my Lady Rhiannon."
The prince extends his hand and pulls Rhiannon up on the Horse
Rhiannon gets on the horse with the prince and they head off with the other warriors following behind them.
I spend a few hours showing GL around Happy Harbor and making sure Snapper is doing alright. After that, I head back home and make sure everything in Central City and Keystone is quiet. I stop a mugging and prevent a jaywalking woman from being hit by an 18 wheeler. Then I head home and delve into another passion of mine...
Superherohype, the internet's source for all things involving the superhero boom, is a pretty cool place...except for that weird guy in Gotham who posts those Batman fanfics. Batman vs. Blacula and Blackenstein was cool...but those romantic stuff he writes is a bit much.
BZZZT!
My cellphone buzzes and I pull it out. There's a text from Val. Private stuff, not for the faint of heart. She moved to Hub City two weeks ago to take a job at their STAR Labs facility there. We've been doing the long distance thing. Truth is, I could go to Hub and back before she could send another text. But I don't know if I should tell her the truth. Ralph and Jay are the only ones who know my actual identity, not even my parents know. I know Jay will never tell, he has secrets of his own. Ralph's ability to keep quiet has actually surprised me. I trust Val, I love her...maybe I should tell her.
I send her a text back, telling her I'm on my way to Hub City and I'll see her in an hour. That should give her a good surprise.
Before Val's reply, the phone goes off again...this time it's a call.
"Hello?" "Yeah, I'm trying to reach Bartholomew Allen."
"This is him."
"Bart, this is Captain Darryl Frye over in Keystone City. You interviewed for a job here at the KCPD as a crime scene tech. If you're still interested, we'd love to hire you."
Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.
"Son? You still there?"
"Y-yeah. I'm still here. I'm interested and I'd want to work for you."
"Excellent. Report here at 7 AM, day after tomorrow. I'll show you around and get you started."
"Thank you, sir. I'll be there."
I hang up the phone and pump my fist in the air.
"WHOOO HOOO!"
What has two thumbs, kicks ass, and is now employed?
This guy!
I lean back in my chair and look at the computer screen, smiling. My smile starts to fade away as I think of my forthcoming job. I check the threads on the hype and see what's going on before I click over to Google and search for "Crime Scene Technician."
Oh, boy...I really hope I don't screw this up...
In the few years I've been Flash, I've been all over the world and helped people from Hong Kong to Metropolis. The few places I don't go are Gotham, and Hub City. It's not that I don't care about the people in need, it's just that the two cities are almost like war zones. There's no way that even I could keep pace with all the crime.
So far I've rescued fourteen people from a tenement fire, stopped seven muggings, two armed robberies, and a drive-by shootings.
And I've only been in Hub for for two minutes.
Changing out of my Flash gear, I take a deep breath and walk up the stoop to the apartment building. I buzz the button marked "V. Perez" and wait.
"Hello?" Val's voice comes out of the intercom. "Helloooooooo," I say in my over the top, early 20th century gentleman voice.
"Come on up," she says with a chuckle. The door unlocks and I head up to the third floor.
She opens the door for me and smiles as I walk in. I give her a quick peck on the lips.
"That all you got for me? I figured there'd be more. It has been awhile."
I stuff my hands in my pockets and look at her sheepishly. "We...uhh...we need to talk."
"Oh, God...what's wrong."
I take a deep breath, swallow hard and fight that nervous feeling in the it of my stomach.
"I'm the Flash..."
******
So Val and I talk it over for the next few hours. She's skeptical at first, but then all it takes is a few examples of my speed in action. Val's spooked at first, but calms down after a little while.
"So, why tell me this?" She asks after a long silence. We're sitting on her couch.
"Because...well, just so we can still have our relationship without it being long-distance. I can come to Hub every night and have to come up with a cover story."
"Oooh, so you just want a nightly booty call."
"I...I umm...I...I don't even-"
"Relax," Val laughs, softly elbowing me in the ribs. "It's just a joke."
"Whew, dodged a bullet there."
"So, if you can come and go from here to Central as you wish...dos that mean you'll spend the night."
Val puts a hand on my thigh and my face turns the color of my Flash outfit.
******
Keystone City Police Department
I come through the doors of the PD and see a slightly agitated look on his face.
"Allen! There you are! You were almost late!"
"Sorry, Captain Frye. Traffic was a mess."
That and I just left Hub City a minute ago. Not too bad, considering it's nearly 800 miles east of here.
"Well, come on, let's go."
I follow Frye down the hallway into the heart of the PD. We pass through the squadroom, where detectives and patrol officers mingle, and downstairs pass the morgue.
"Crime lab is right down here. You'll be under David Singh, he's the head of the department. It's two of you and two other techs."
"Just four? Central City has six techs and they're understaffed."
"Well, son, we ain't Central City. We're a smaller town, got a smaller budget. Only problem is we have almost the same amount of crime as Central City. So, the mayor and the city council are putting a priority on closing cases as fast as you can."
Frye opens the door into the crime lab and leads me into it. There are four desks and lab equipment on the far wall. A full laboratory is a room over.
"Singh, this is the new guy."
An Asian man with long hair and a goatee walks over.
"David Singh. You must be Bart Allen."
"That's me, sir."
"Just call me Singh."
"There you go," Frye grunts. "Already fast friends. Show him the ropes, Singh. He seems to know what he's doing, but you never know."
"I have just the first test. We got a home invasion/homicide on the northside. Detectives are waiting on the crime tech, and I got my other two folks out on calls. You're up, new guy."
"Now? Like, right now?"
"Sink or swim, son," Frye says, patting me on the back a little too rough. "Best of luck."
"What do you mean he stepped out for a drink?! His patient is dying!"
Fractically trying to keep up with the demand of the task at hand, pracitioneer Shondra Kingsloving angrily pushed her way past the two understudies that were hovering over the unconcious form of their battered and bloodied patient. In a little over thirty minutes, the nightly routine of the staff of Gotham General had been thrown to the wayside and substituted for chaos that could have never been anticipated. But when your patient was as high-profile as billionaire Bruce Wayne, one of the richest men in the entire country and a substantial figurehead to the city itself, the amount of scrutiny that followed him was mostly common sense. What made the matter almost impossible to handle, however, wasn't the public status of the patient - it was the clear abscence of Wayne's chosen personal physician, and the man that most would also consider one of the top neurosurgeons in the country. She would have been surprised at this behavior, had it been someone else she was working under. Someone far more dependable than Lucius Fox.
"EKG's already spiking again. We keep stalling on this and he may go into shock. Are we still waiting on Lucius?"
Glancing down at her watch as she raised the surgical mask to her face, Kingsloving's eyes darted back to Wayne, the area of the most trauma covered by a tarp that was beginning to run red with his blood. There wasn't much time to be had.
"To hell with it. We've got him prepped, his vitals are only just beginning to stablize. Go ahead and put him under. Anyone sees Fox, tell him that we've got his patient. As of now, this is my surgery ward, and if he wants to take it back, he can shove it up his---"
Instantaneously, the twin doors to the operating room burst open, followed by the rush of a man feverishly adopting scrubs. In a move that was considered unsanitary, he bit down on the material of the latex gloves to pull them further up his arm, catching the attention of all who watched. Just as he stopped, he noticed the stares and gave a sneer back.
"Oh for godsakes, grow up. It's a little saliva."
This was Dr. Lucius Fox, head surgeon of Gotham General. The man that was entrusted to save the life of Bruce Wayne.
Needless to say, not everyone shared that sense of trust.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up."
Fox placed the mask over his face and immediately tied it in place, walking past Shondra without so much as a glance of eye contact.
"Before you regale me in yet another of your typical rants, I was only just across the street. And might I add, fully aware of what was happening."
Shondra crossed her arms. "Well, that make sense. The man's life is at stake and you're off on another binge. What was it this time? Whiskey, tequila? Or were you just up for taking shots of whatever they served you?"
Eyebrow raised, Fox's tone conveyed a sense of dry tension that became immediately evident.
"Vitamin water, actually. Can someone please prop him up the correct way?! This is neurological trauma, not cardiac arrest! I don't know if you idiots are aware of this, but I need to actually reach his head!"
Defiantly, she stepped infront of him, blocking his path to Wayne.
"You're not doing anything. This is my surgery, Lucius. You want to skip out on your own patients? Fine, go ahead, but don't expect the rest of us to roll over for you at the last minute."
Fox sneered back.
"I don't recall ever asking you to be my understudy."
"Someone has to cover for you."
Fox shook his head, trying to step past.
"Well legally, Shondra, that isn't going to be you. So if you don't step out of my way, we're going to see two unfortunate things happen. The first is that you're walking right out that door with me, and we're both going directly to the board."
She glared back. "And tell them about the farce you've turned this into? Gladly. Just lead the way."
"The second - and the most crucial? Is that Bruce Wayne is going to die, and it's going to be because you won't let the past stay there. That's what this is all really about, and we both know it. So you can either shut the hell up or get out, because I'm not allowing either to happen tonight."
Without so much as a warning, Kingsloving's enraged eyes burned back at Fox and her hand went up to slap the doctor across the face. But seeing the looks of the colleagues around her, knowing that it'd be a mistake to go through with it, she instead composed herself and lowered the arm.
"You're a bastard."
Ripping off her gloves, she promptly exited the room. Leaving her regret-ridden ex-lover to silently watch her leave, before clearing his throat and turning towards the others, who traded confused looks in reaction to the unexpected drama. Fox looked back towards the EKG machine, noticing that it was just beginning to beep once again. He sighed, frustrated, rubbing his temple as he approached Wayne's side.
"Stop staring and get him stabilized. We're doing this right now."
The clock began to tick as the attempt to save Gotham's favorite son began.
IC: Alfred Jarvis
It has been several hours since this waking nightmare began. And yet I can barely sense the passage of time anymore. Everything - all that matters to me now - hinders entirely on what will happen next.
Sitting alone in a top-floor waiting room, my hands are clasped together in anticipation as I silently begin to think about how it all could have gone so wrong - knowing that the answer is one that I almost do not want to know. Fearing Mrs. Cooper's inquiries, I sent Richard off to head back home. He doesn't need to stay here for this. This is Bruce's fight alone. Even so, I have only been able to lie to myself once for this entire ordeal, telling my mind that the chances of his survival are almost as great as the chances that he will not. But the image of him scattered atop that sidewalk, barely breathing at all, still burns brighter than any attempts to calm my own nerves. Even through his hardships, I have never been given reason to mistrust Lucius Fox's skills as a surgeon, but the fact remains that he could easily walk through that door at any moment and tell me what I do not want to hear most of all. I have no misconceptions about it. Anything can go wrong, and he can easily...
Well. Perhaps that isn't what I should be focusing on. Because I also have to wonder to myself why I would even want to hear that he's survived. If he pulls through this, if some rare miracle comes and spares him this fate, he is only going to be that much more determined to rise again on this suicidal crusade. I've made no attempt to hide my feelings in the past - I have never been comfortable with it. The cavern, the equipment, that bloody outfit, any of it. There is nothing more that I'd like to be able to do than to one day tell him that I have had enough, that he's insane for ever taking it this far. I suppose I've even been given plenty of chances to do just that.
Every night. Every bloody night, I tell myself the same thing. I can just go and spare myself the misery of this man's campaign. Move back home, find something normal for a change. Leave him to carry out his absurd deathwish.
So why do I stay?
"Alfred?"
My attention is drawn towards the door, where I see one worried face that I've been dreading to look upon since this all began. I know that I should not have called her at this hour, under these circumstances, but I felt that it was only proper. The papers are already calling nonstop, asking all the wrong questions. But it is her more than anyone that I wish to know.
"Miss Bertinelli,"
I stand up from my seat, composing myself even in this state of affairs. I suppose it's a force of habit.
"It is good to see you again."
Immediately, without a response, she steps into the room and gives me a tight embrace. I am a bit taken off guard, at first, but I return it nevertheless. Helena is a dear friend to us, and one who I have always considered a close associate. If not to me, than to Mr. Wayne. There were fewer times I have seen him as happy as he was when they were close, those few years ago. Before he sucumbed entirely to this life of torment.
"My assistant just forwarded your message an hour ago. I dropped everything. God, I can't even imagine how you're feeling. Are you okay?"
With a tired sigh, I gently part from the embrace and sit back down.
"Normally I would say so. But today, I am not entirely sure."
Grabbing a freshly brewed coffee from the bag slung around her shoulders, she hands it to me and sits in the chair across.
"Why don't you tell me all about it."
Accepting the cup, I find the energy to smile back.
"I would, Miss. But to be entirely honest... I would not know where to even begin."
Rhiannon stands out in the middle of a field with a sword circling a metal statue.
I've been here for a little over 2 months and I'm still trying to make sense of all this. I've tried at least twice a day but my powers are still gone meaning I'm here for a while I guess, but I like to think I'm making some good adjustments to life in Morlaidhan. Leather armor is a bit more binding than my Atom costume but I have a lot better peripheral vision without the mask being in my way. Although I do miss my L-Pod working out like this without music is just depressing.
Rhiannon spins and lays in two strikes against the statue.
I've been, for lack of a better term, drafted into the Army but I haven't seen any combat because I'm still going through basic sword training. Laethwyn has been training me and asking me a lot about the land I come from. I tell him bits and pieces but not too much. It would be my luck I say or do something and end up getting branded as a witch and burned at the stake. A bit out there I know but I'm not willing to take the chance. Not to mention I've got my own room at the castle can't give that up!
Just then Laethwyn arrives and says, "No no again you are merely thinking of the sword as a weapon. Lady Rhiannon remember the sword is far more than just a weapon but that it is an extension of who you are and your will. Take a battle pose and extend the sword."
Rhiannon does as Laethwyn says and he approaches behind her and he asks, "What do you see?"
She replies, "A statue?"
Laethwyn says, "No that is the one who's mission and purpose in life is to take what is yours. If you do not have the mindset of a warrior when training then you will never have it in battle. It is not something that you can suddenly change into on the battlefield it is something that is refined and sharpened here!"
Laethwyn moves in closer almost whispering in her ear, "You think this is nothing more than physical training that way of thinking is what holds you back Lady Rhiannon and will get you killed on the battlefield. Each time you train you must believe that it will be your last. Tomorrow is something you must fight for, because someone wants to take it from you. What are you prepared to do to stop them? Or do you choose to let them take it from you?"
Rhiannon listens to what Laethwyn and she feels her breathing change and her emotional state shift from just another workout to focused intensity.
She remembers the crooks she has battled, the training with Bishop, her time at CADMUS, and then it shifts to Waller. Rhiannon feels the anger build up and her blood boils.
Rhiannon growls and then screams, "AHHHHHHHHH!" She strikes the statue 3 times with speed and intensity. Until the 4th time when the head of the statue flies off.
She stands there and still with a look of anger and focus as Laethwyn says, "Impressive. Over the ridge is three more just like this one."
Rhiannon without hesitation sprints over the ridge and begins striking them as well. Eventually all three are headless and she asks Laethwyn, "What's next?"
Laethwyn replies, "Another week of training and then you will be ready."
Rhiannon says, "Another week? What's left."
Laethwyn says, "You've made some impressive strides Lady Rhiannon but now you must learn to summon what you've learned this day as though it were second nature to you."
Laethwyn crossed to Rhiannon and says, "You are a unique one Lady Rhiannon, and I wish to not only see you survive but thrive as well. I firmly believe that you are destined for great things here in Morlaidhan."
Rhiannon replies with focus, "As you wish my Prince."
She sheaths her sword and gives a slight bow.
Playtime is over goodbye to Rhiannon Plamer. My name is Lady Rhiannon-- warrior. Heaven help anyone who gets in my way.
I hang the mic back up and sigh. Here I am, sitting in my car halfway down the block from some building the mob runs a book making scam out of, with no backup. I'm supposed to supervise the raid. ****ing Essen, she's doing this on purpose. Keeping me at arm's length while Gordon's on the mend. I pull a cigarette out and light it just as dispatch finally gets back to me.
"Dispatch to 10-24, go ahead."
"I'm here on Baker, waiting for the rest of the MCU guys supposed to take part in that 516. Where the hell are they?" "One second, 10-24....10-20 is en route to your 20. ETA, five minutes."
"Fine. 10-24 out."
I take a long drag on my cigarette and blow the smoke out the cracked window. Another unmarked car pulls up beside me a few minutes later. The skinny white man and his fat, black partner step out and approach me.
"Inspector," Crowe says.
"Nelson, Sarge. Where's everyone else?"
"This is all we're doing," Davies grunts. "My snitch inside says they're running a skeleton crew. Four guys tops. Two of us go in the front door, while someone watches the back."
"Fine, fine. Let's get it over with. You two take the front, I'll watch the back."
"Think you could take the front with me?" Crowe asks.
"I got a bad back," Davies grunts.
"Goddammit, let's just go."
I stomp away from the two of them and walk up the block, pulling my Glock from my hip holster. Crowe and Davies catches up just outside the building. Crowe has a pump in his hands while Davies has a .38 revolver. Davies scurries around the back and we wait a full minute before going in.
Crowe kicks open the door and leads the way with his shotgun.
"GCPD, ****ers. Freeze!"
Three men around a table shoot upright. Before they even have a chance to move, Crowe blasts them with a shotgun round. Two of the men fall to the floor, buckshot in their chests. Crowe racks another round and shoots the one remaining crook in the stomach.
"Crowe!" I yell at him. "What the **** was that?!"
"Just doing my job and making it look like self defense."
He turns his shotgun on me and racks another load. My eyes go wide and I hit the deck as a round flies over my head. Sarge, from the back door, fires a few rounds at me that all miss wide. I roll to my right as Crowe blasts another shotgun round. Pellets scrape the side of my face, but the majority of the shell buries itself into the floor. I pull my gun and aim for Crowe's chest. Pulling the trigger, three shots hit him in the chest, center mass. He crumples to the ground. Sarge rushes over with his gun raised. One squeeze of the trigger, the bullet catches him in the cheek and blows out the back of his head. He falls next to his dying partner, dead on impact.
I crawl over to Crowe's wheezing body and grab him by the collar.
"Who set me up!"
"F...**** you, Nygma!"
He coughs and blood dribbles out of his mouth. Crowe's eyes roll into the back of his head and he gives out a final death rattle. Standing up on shaky legs, I look over the carnage and chaos. I swallow hard to hold down the bile rushing up my throat.
Gordon did this. He knows, somehow he knows I'm informing...I'm a dead man walking...but I'll be goddamned if I make sure he goes before me.
All the shots, it won't be long before a patrolman shows up. I rush out of the building and jump in my car, driving off in a hurry and reaching for my cellphone.
"Hello, this is FBI Special Agent Kate Spencer. I'm sorry I couldn't take you call, but leave you name and number after the beep and I'll return your call as soon as I can."
"Spencer, It's Nygma. I'm ready to come in and tell you what I know...Holiday and the rest of it, everything. I'm gonna set the whole GCPD on fire and watch it burn..."
IC: Jim Gordon
It's late when Sarah wheels me down the hallways of Gotham Central's top floor. Anyone who might even see me has gone home for the day. I don't want them to get their hopes up and get the rumor mill fired back up. It's just a visit to my office.
"I haven't touched it since you left that night," Sarah says as she flips on the lights. The same case notes, files, and papers are all in place on my desk. She wheels me over to the desk and I look down at all the paperwork for anything that might jog my memory. The day I was shot is still a blur. I remember nothing about it at all, except leaving the house to go to work.
All the paper work in front of me looks like standard stuff...except.
"What's this?" I ask Sarah, holding up a sticky note. On the yellow note is a bunch of numbers scribbled across it, underneath it is is a PIN number of 2104.
"Looks like it's a bank account number...you don't know what it is or where it's from?"
"No...let's find out."
Sarah walks away as he phone rings, she pulls it out and has a short conversation.
"Jim," she says once she's off the phone, "Crowe and Davies are dead..."
"Nygma was involved?"
"They don't know yet, but it looks like it."
"Alright, but out an APB. I want Nygma found and I want him taken alive. It's time he and I have a chat."
"Naah, that's fine," I say into the phone. I'm in my car, waiting on Stan. Helena is on the other end of the phone, at the hospital. Her boss is in critical after some mysterious injury.
"It's fine. I'm meeting my old sergeant in a few minutes, I don't know how long we'll be....yeah....yeah, just a case. I should be done tonight and if you're still at the hospital, I'll swing by. Alright, see you soon. Bye."
I hang up as Stan parks his car by mine and gets out.
"Got the court order, Vic. Let's do this."
I follow behind Stan into Gotham Savings & Loans. He approaches a clerk and flashes a badge. "Sergeant Merkel, GCPD. I got a search and seizure warrant for a safety deposit box."
The clerk looks at the warrant and hands it back. "Hold on a moment, please."
It's a good thing I managed to catch this when I went through the contents of Driver's desk. There was a scrap of paper with a note on it. "Gotham Savings & Loan. Box 214, Account no. 04911819, PIN no. 2104"
Since Driver's dead, it was a breeze to get a warrant for the box. There's no telling what's in there, but it may be another clue.
"Gentleman," a man appears behind the counter. "May I see your warrant?"
Stan hands it over to the manager and he breezes through it. "Very well, follow me."
We follow the manager into the vault where the deposit boxes are. He walks over to box 214 and unlocks it, sliding the box out. Inside is a bound notebook and a burnt CD.
"Huh."
Stan pulls them out of the box and nods at the manager. "Thank you, sir."
We follow him out the bank and into the street. We're walking two our cars when his phone rings.
"Hello?...What?...Seriously? Goddammit! Okay, I'll be there."
He hangs up and hands me the notebook and CD.
"Two cops got killed in a botched raid. They're calling all hands on deck for Homicide. I gotta go. Let me know what you find."
"I will."
Merkel jumps into his car and peels off, hitting the lights and tearing down the street. I walk over to my car and get inside. I take the CD and slide it into the player.
"....Test, test, one, two three......My name is Detective Marcus Driver, badge number 09832. If you're listening to this, that means I'm dead or in prison. Before we start, all you need to know is that all of this, every bit of this mess, is the fault of Edward Nygma..."
******
IC: Jim Gordon
Going on twelve hours and and there's still no sign of Nygma. All the patrols are out there, searching for him. I'm holed up in my office, looking out at the skyline from my wheelchair. The lights of the city are beginning to come on as the sun sinks over the horizon. I've always loved this view, it's where I come to think.
There's no telling how many cases I've cracked by gazing out the window and thinking it over, first when I was a rookie detective on the fourth floor, then as a sergeant in my office in the Eastern. Then as a lieutenant and captain on the seventh floor. And now here, as commissioner.
This is where I've achieved some of my greatest victories, and where I've ruined countless lives. All in the name of the city, all in the name of keeping it safe. My old service revolver is in the desk drawer. With Nygma preparing to hand my head on platter to the FBI, maybe this is a fitting place to end it all? It wouldn't hurt. Just squeeze the trigger and I'm gone. I wheel over to the desk and open the drawer, I look down at the gun and reach for it.
"Jim," Sarah says from the doorway. I jump, startled and look at her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, babe," I say as I close the desk drawer. "You just sneaked up on me."
"I found out exactly what that slip of paper is that was left on your desk. It's a safety deposit box from Gotham Savings and Loans. The account is in the name of Marcus Driver."
With the mention of Driver's name, everything clicks into place and my memory comes rushing back.
"Oh, my God, Sarah! You have to get to that box right now!"
"What is it, Jim?"
"No time, just go to the bank now."
"It's closed. They closed for the day."
"I don't care! Call the bank manager and get him back there to open it up. Call Judge Fayden and get a warrant, whatever it takes! I want what's inside the box before the night's over!"
Sarah nods and runs out. My heart is racing. I reach for the phone on my desk and dial a number.
"Hello?"
"Bullock, it's Gordon. Meet me in my office right now. I've got a plan."
I hang up the phone before he can answer. This is it. My chance to get out of this alive and without any bodies.
******
IC: Edward Nygma
I look around the windowless room, like an interrogation room. This time, I'm on the side the criminals sit at. I guess this is part of it all, the first step is admitting I'm a criminal.
On the table in front of me is a contract. It has all my wishes listed. In return for my testimony I will get: Full immunity from criminal prosecution, entrance into the Witness Relocation Program, and a monthly stipend as a FBI consultant for future cases.
In short: My ticket out of this ****ing hellhole.
Agent Spencer walks in and takes a seat across the table from me.
"Does everything look alright?"
"Yes, but two minor things: I want to relocate to somewhere far from here. Oregon or Arizona. Also, I want 24 hours to settle my debts and accounts. After we're done, I leave here and come back tomorrow night for good."
"The answer to your first question is something you'll have to take up with the Marshal Service. With your second question, that's a no."
I look straight ahead, past Spencer and into the two-way mirror behind her. I know they're watching, FBI agents and God knows who else.
"Then no testimony. I want 24 hours. Doesn't matter what happens to me, I'll keep my nose out of trouble and I'm all yours."
Spencer looks back at the glass and shrugs.
"Fine," Matthews, her boss, booms over the intercom in the ceiling of the room. "24 hours, Nygma. You screw us over and that's it. You'll be in jail right alongside Gordon."
I nod and give Matthews a semi-salute from behind the glass. I take the pen and sign the contract in my sprawling signature.
Spencer pulls out a digital recorder and starts it, she slides it to the middle of the table.
"Official FBI interview with Inspector Edward Nygma, GCPD. Present are FBI Special Agent Kate Spencer. Please, state your full name and rank..."
I take a deep breath and lean forward nervously. "Edward Frank Nygma, Detective Inspector and Chief of Detectives, Gotham City Police Department."
"Anytime you're ready. Start from the beginning, and tell it all. Anything you leave out voids the deal."
I take another deep breath and lick my lips. They're dry, very dry. I can feel the nervous pit in my stomach. After all this time, all the lies that have been swept under the rug, all the things I've had to do to survive. I've never told a soul...
Except now.
I stay silent for a few minutes, contemplating what to say and how to say it. Spencer fidgets and looks back at the glass when I finally start to talk.
"I guess...I guess this all started the night Black Mask was killed. One punch started it all..."
"...when I walked in, Umberto Maroni was dead. Selina had shot him. She was crying and afraid. I helped her get rid of his body, I chopped him up into teeny, tiny parts and dumped him in Slaughter Swamp..."
"...Michael Akins became Holiday because of what Gordon and his corrupt drug unit did to him. He was honest, he threatened to inform on them and they destroyed his life..."
"...I pulled strings and made a deal with Gordon: I would destroy Akins' testimony and sweep his real motive under the rug, he would promote me to Chief of Detectives. He bought my silence, I let him buy my silence. I blackmailed Vic Sage into keep quiet. He slugged me and quit...Can't say that I blame him..."
"...While everyone was busy at the wedding, Maroni turn tail and ran. He saw me coming for him...but he didn't expect me to be waiting for him in the office when he got there...he begged me for mercy...I shoved him out his office building and watched him go splat."
The part involving Dent comes next...Nobody knows about it. Nobody needs to know about it. I press on, avoiding that part.
"Bette Kane's murder haunted me, haunted Driver as well...Kate Kane and I started ****ing each other while Driver worked the case. He solved it and it killed him..."
"I shot Harold Kane four times in the head...and then Kate I shot four times in the chest, each bullet for the people they killed..."
"...Bane had me on the ground, close to killing me. I begged for mercy, I pleaded for it. I made a deal. I would give him Batman..."
"...Crowe turned and pointed his shotgun at me, nearly killed me. I killed him and his partner, Davies in return. That was twelve hours to go."
I look up at Spencer and see the repulsed looked on her face.
"And I think that brings you up to speed."
She stares, almost shocked and amazed.
"I thought...I thought all you were doing was ripping off drug dealers, stealing evidence and selling it. Not this!"
"Please," I sneer. "You got enough for Gordon and then some."
I stand up and look at the mirror.
"Full immunity for all that. And 24 hours starting now."
Spencer looks up at me and shakes her head as she turns off the recorder.
"You're sick, you're twisted. The fact that I gave scum like you full immunity will ruin me!"
I stare down at Spencer and shrug.
"I've done worse."
I breeze out of the interrogation room without a look back.
******
Out to my car, I pull out my keys and begin to unlock the door when footsteps come up from behind. I turn around just in time to see Bullock, a cattle prod in his hands. The prod strikes me in the ribs and I convulse all over before I drop to the ground. Bullock brings his foot down on my head and everything goes black.
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Sinestro
