Koriandr's arms clasped about her ample chest and she hugged chilled shoulders. It was freezing. When she had chosen this meeting place she hadn't considered the possibility that the temperature might plunge nearly twenty degrees from one night to the next. It had simply been convenient. A destination they both knew. Accessible from the cave and the beach. Once, eons ago it seemed, when she and Dick had been visiting the Manor they had come here. The Batman had been sleeping. Alfred had been at the market buying fruit and vegetables for the sumptuous supper he was planning, and she and her love had run away. He had actually blind-folded her, leading her laughing down an impossibly long staircase to a cool dark place. When they had finally stopped, all sense of the daylight had been eclipsed by a thick enveloping blackness. She had asked him then to take the blindfold off and he had obliged, pulling it off quickly and then grabbing her about the waist, passionately kissing her. A smile touched her chattering lips, the memory warming her. Sometime later they had walked hand in hand through the dark narrow tunnels, pointing like children at the grotesque stalactites and stalagmites as their eyes adjusted to the Stygian blackness. She remembered still the thrill of his touch, the intimate closeness, the thought that there was no one else in the world but them. No husband on Tamaran, no disapproving mentor, no one just the two of them. Finally, near a small circle of pale light he had stopped her, turning her toward him to end the journey with one final kiss. She could still see his hair shining blue-black in the diffused sunlight, his crisp eyes gleaming. They had had to crawl the last few feet. It had been a tight fit for her, but the reward of the sudden burst of daylight and warmth and the sense of freedom projected by the crashing and roaring waves beyond had been worth it. She had spontaneously grabbed him and leapt into the blue sky, turning in slow circles as the daystar renewed her diminished solar powers.
She had learned a lesson that day. Without the dark, you would never know the true joy of the light. She only prayed Dick would understand this when at last he cast off Bloods ruinous influence. She had known that night they had found and rescued him in Zandia, when she had seen his once powerful form reduced in size, pale and beaten, drugged to the point of stupor, that it wouldn't be that easy. He had put up a valiant fight, but as many warriors, had never learned the first rule of captivity: All that matters is survival. There are some battles you simply cannot win.
As she hugged the entrance to the cave and the little warmth it afforded, she closed her eyes and sought to banish the images that lingered there upon her minds eye. She had seen the photos the reporter Bethany Snow had smuggled out of Bloods stronghold. She had lived through the flashbacks that overtook him in the middle of the night, the drug-induced night terrors; the tremors and the sweats that rocked his pallid form, bringing unshed tears. She had never said anything to anyone, knowing it would shame him, thinking it would go away. Praying it would go away.
She had been wrong.
So now, here she was, waiting finally able to do something. If nothing more than let her lovers foster father know that there was something he could do that she could not. She shivered again and snorted. That was a humbling thought. Thank XHal she hadn't tried to act on her first impulse. She could just see him now, those black brows knit unseen behind the black cowl, his voice pitched low and rasping ~
A subtle noise from the direction of the Cave made her open her eyes. The back of the seaside cavern was black as pitch, but within the deep tenebrous shadows a solid form shifted. With her light-sensitive eyes she failed to make out its particulars, but recognized the over six-foot height and general shape. She could tell it wore a dark cowl and could sense the movement of the heavy cape at its booted feet. So, he had come. She wasn't at all certain he would. The plan counted on his cooperation and knowledge. It would take the best to convince Dick of the validity of the emergency, and he certainly was the best at what he did. She smiled uncertainly and advanced into the darkness, holding a golden hand out to the tall figure.
"I know we haven't always ~ well, ever ~ seen eye to eye, but thank you for coming.
It means a lot to me." She paused and then added, "It could mean a great deal to Dick. I'm really worried about ~ "
The imposing figure stopped just short of the patch of diffused sunlight that fell within the mouth of the sea cave. Only the toes of his black boots were illuminated by the feeble rays of the setting sun.
"The last thing we would want to do, Princess, is worry that pretty little head of yours and in order to prevent that, there's been a slight change of plans."
Koriandrs eyes went wide as what little sun there was vanished behind a cloud, propelling the unlikely pair into absolute darkness.
************ A dark figure, caped and cowled knelt on the sandy floor, miniature flashlight in gloved hand, sensitive fingers sifting the gritty residue with the hope that it held some sort of clue. She had been here. Her boot prints were unmistakable. Not many women weighed in at under one-fifty with size 11 or 12 shoes. Her molecular structure was more dense than the average human. Her imprints therefore deeper than average. She had been here all right, but she hadn't been alone.
Once again cursing the bureaucracy that had kept him tied up at Gotham Police Headquarters ~ Jim was on vacation and some officious paper-pusher had detained him demanding detailed reports on the two small time hoods he had obligingly taken the time to drop off ~ he wondered who had kept his rendezvous with the golden alien and how they had found out about it in the first place. Frustrated, he stood and whirled about the cave seeking some resonance of what had transpired within its cool clammy confines less than thirty minutes before. Unbelievably a presence remained, so strong and menacing that he actually could still sense it and guess at its intent and purpose. Neither had been good. It wasn't Joker or Two-face or any other Arkham inmate, but it ranked with them. Still, this was different. Not angry. Not envious. More mocking. Almost amused.
The Dark Knight shook himself free of the moment and stepped out into the rosy dawn. Close by breakers lapped at the shore and birds wheeled in the darkening sky below the edge of the steep cliffs upon which the foundations of Wayne Manor lay. He should probably go to the house and inform Dick, but the Princess had requested secrecy and much as he disliked the duplicity, she had been right ~ something was definitely wrong with his ward. Desperately wrong.
Drawing his cloak about his broad shoulders he glanced at the lightening sky. There was still an hour or so of semi-darkness left. He would have to make it do and follow the trail before it grew cold. When he knew something, he could alert Dick. If it hadn't been for the second set of prints, he might have believed she had simply come to her senses and changed her mind. She was female after all.
But something told him the one who had taken his place was a threat ~ to the Princess and to his ward ~ and that they had been something other ~ or more than ~ human.
And that was what worried him the most.
************ Koriandr awoke, tightly bound and gagged, her slender hands encased in some sort of malleable material that seemed to absorb the raw power that coursed through her alien veins. She was in a dark confined space which for a moment she mistook for the cave by the shore, but when she shifted her long legs, she realized it was much smaller and rectangular ~ like a coffin. Concentrating, she realized her head was throbbing as though she had been struck. Whoever had been in the cave had hit hard and fast and she had dropped like a stone to its floor unable to defend herself. Even now grains of sand were pressing into her flesh, reminding her this was not a dream. She had no idea where she was or who had taken her. At first she had thought it was the Batman keeping their prearranged meeting, but even if his feelings about her and her relationship with his ward were well a little strained. this was rather drastic. Some one had obviously intercepted her message and been waiting for her. The fact that they had restraints prepared told her that. Anyone unprepared and uninformed would not have been able to subdue her.
As her head cleared and she became more aware of her surroundings, hope waned. Whoever had captured her was quite aware of her need for solar energy. They had deliberately placed her in a dark space completely cut off from the daystar that was even now setting in the west beyond the tall Gothic spires of Gotham casting pale purple shadows on the stones of her lovers childhood home and the city his guardian called his own. Without the sun, escape would be ~ well, not impossible ~ but difficult.
Then, suddenly, as her head cleared and she was able to turn it without pain, she realized the interior of her prison was not pitch-black. Small holes had been punched in the top near her feet and even now tiny rays of light were beginning to work their way towards her as the suns last brilliant rays flared across a darkening sky. Given time, and determination, she would be able to draw upon what power she could feel still coursing through her body and hopefully overload the curious mass that covered her hands.
If XHal was with her, she would have quite a surprise prepared for whoever dared to open the lid of this particular prison. A nasty surprise.
And delivering it would feel really good.
************ A slight breeze whispered through the Batcave, rustling Joe Wilsons blond hair where he sat next to Dick Grayson, now attired as his alter-ego Nightwing. Joey too was dressed as the superhero, Jericho, a separate identity he had taken on when he had joined the New Titans some time before. The deep burgundy, blue and white costume intensified his dark eyes, making them appear a deep forest green. With them he watched his friend as he continued to pour through file after file of information trying to corroborate Sal story. So far he had found no message from Koriandr to the Batman. Joe thanked heaven for that. Apparently a nights sleep had made her come to her senses. Leaning on his white hands, Jericho smiled gently as Nightwing turned to talk to him.
They were at a stalemate. The pieces just didn't fit. Nightwing shifted in his own black and blue costume, stretching his muscles so the golden eagle on his breast seemed to spread its wings ready to take flight. The dark-haired man stared at his friend, weighing his signed words with the look in his eyes. Joey wasn't very good at lying, and that was most certainly what he was doing. Nightwing was sure of it. But why?
"Joe, I don't think its your Dad. Plain and simple. This doesn't feel like Slade. He would have no reason to take out a contract on Bruce Batman, and I don't really believe he'd be that stupid. Someone must be setting Slade up, trying to make it appear as though he is involved." He paused, holding his friends eyes, "Besides, I thought he was in Africa."
Planes fly from there to here, Jericho answered hastily.
"Yes, they do." A good many months had passed since the CBIs investigation into Jerichos mothers organization and his connection with it. In the end he and Adeline had been cleared of all wrong-doing, but now Nightwing had to wonder. Was there something afoot that Joe wouldn't or couldn't talk about. Something he needed his help with but couldn't spell out? Still, the Batmans informant had mentioned Slade, and according to Bruce, Sal was seldom if ever wrong in the information she passed along. And if Slade had taken a contract on the Batman for some reason, he would be honor bound to complete it. Whether that would end with Bruce's death or his was a matter open for debate. For the record, his money would have been on Bruce. Still, he had barely eluded Slade when, as the Terminator, he had come gunning for him and the other Titans. And even then Wilson had captured the others, like Starfire and Wonder Girl, with ease. The Batman was only human ~ even if he refused to admit it himself. Slade could kill him. He had to count it as a possibility.
Nightwing pinned Jericho with one of the looks Bruce had taught him and could smell the sweat. Well, whatever he was up to he would just have to assume it was harmless. Jericho would never betray him or the Titans.
That thought made him wince.
Hadn't he said that about Terra not long before?
"Okay, okay, Joey, lets assume it is Slade for the moment. What next? This is your father we are talking about. Are you certain you don't want to step back? I can call Kory or get Donna back from the Island."
It is also your father, Joey countered. No, I have to do this.
"What?," Nightwing thought, "What do you have to do?" When Joe failed to answer he spun in his chair and said aloud, "Your choice, friend." Facing the giant computer he called up satellite charts and graphs of the area and began to search for a trace of the course the Batmobile had taken the night before. Seconds later he froze the image on the screen and turned to his companion. "Hey, Joey. Go upstairs and find Alfred for me. Tell him were heading out just as soon as it gets dark about forty minutes or so. Have him pack some food. I think its going to be a long night."
Jericho stood and rested his hand on Nightwing's shoulder a moment before signing okay. So he had taken the bait. That was step one. They had known fooling him wouldn't be easy, but suspicious or not, Dicks instinct would be to trust ~ they were friends after all.
Hopefully when this ended that would still be the case.
Nightwing steepled his gloved fingers and watched his friend ascend the stairs. Then he picked up the phone and dialed Kory's number. She had never shown, even though they had hung near the house most of the day waiting to see if she would. Jericho hadn't seemed surprised, but then that could have been his imagination. Maybe when she woke up she remembered she was still angry with him. Maybe when he did find her, he'd wish he hadn't. Still, he had to try. He was beginning to worry. First Bruce, now Kory. He waited impatiently while the phone rang several times before her machine picked up and a deep husky voice echoed mechanically through the lines asking him to leave a message at the sound of the tune. He laughed. He hadn't had the heart to tell her the word was tone not tune. Besides, it was really cute. Placing the phone in its rechargeable cradle he leaned back in the Batmans seat of operations and rested his head on its padded top. His mind was whirling. Something was definitely afoot.
Suddenly he sat straight up, inspired. Quietly he ordered the computer to replay the message Sal had left and to analyze it for any similarities to other voices in its database. If it was Sal, the computer should have been able to make the match in seconds. When it didn't, he knew he was on to something. He punched a few more buttons adding another database that was not fraught with criminals and neer do wells, setting a second scan in progress and then eagerly awaited the results. Just as he suspected, the voice had been deliberately altered. If he had had his wits about him, he would have recognized it right away. But at the time he had no reason to suspect any duplicity, especially from this source.
Stunned, he toggled the switch and listened to the husky tones again
They were Kory's.
************ Slade Wilson sat, his long sensitive fingers tapping out an absent-minded tune. Brows white as snowy doves plummeted toward a razor-straight nose and thin lips drew into a line. Before him, on the Notebook screen, the message he had just descrambled sat winking, awaiting his reply. Behind him, his man-servant and friend Wintergreen watched. The old mans expression showed he was curious wary. But not nearly so curious as he.
It had been four days since the mysterious Connor Essen had contacted him by email and he had agreed to look at his proposal. He still had no idea how the man had managed to break his codes and penetrate his defenses ~ nor how he knew where to find him. But find him he had, and offered him a deal that ~ if true ~ would set him up for the rest of his life. Never mind the fact that he had put his Terminator identity aside for the time being. This was a challenge the unknown Mr. Essen must have known he would not be able to resist. The chance to pit himself against the one man who was as good at the game as it got. And the prize, beyond his own satisfaction at a job well done, was incalculable. Still, he was a little troubled by his clients ownership of such a phenomenally unique and priceless art treasure. It seemed odd there was no mention anywhere of it being auctioned off or sold, and nothing about it leaving its country of origin. But there it was, digitally rendered and printed off along with a faxed copy of the papers certifying its existence and proof of current ownership. He fingered the crisp white sheets and glanced back at Wintergreen where he was just returning the phone receiver to its jet-black cradle on the Hotel room desk.
"Well?"
"Still no answer. Would you like me to try again?"
Slade frowned and shook his head, a stray lock of snow-white hair falling across the black eye patch that covered a scarred socket left empty by his wife's excellent marksmanship, "No, we have to proceed. Time is running out and we wouldn't want anyone else trying to beat us to the mark. I have a decision to make. He's expecting confirmation."
Wintergreen walked over and placed a hand on Slades shoulder. "We are already here, in Gotham, and action has been taken. I had assumed the decision was made. "
Slade stood and deliberately walked across the room picking up a small grey suitcase on his way. Laying it atop one of the rooms narrow twin beds, he opened it and drew from its dark interior a midnight-blue suit and hood. Staring at the costume, he fingered the golden gunbelt that remained hidden within the shadows of the case.
"That was decided long ago, now I have to decide whether or not to take the pay-off." He glanced once again at the golden artifact rendered on the screen in 3000 DPI, and sighed, "It goes against my better nature."
Wintergreens voice fell, "I wonder. Does the man believe you have a better nature? What if.?"
"There is no what if in this game, my friend, only when, where and how." Pulling his plain green cotton shirt off, revealing rows of rippled muscles that indicated training and dedication, Slade Wilson began to don the costume of the paradoxical Terminator. Each piece fell in place like battle armor until at last he pulled the dark hood forward to mask his distinctive features. "You know the password, confirm it. The deal is sealed. Now."
Outside their hotel window the starless night suddenly gleamed as upon the storm-tossed sky the symbol of a bat encircled in fiery gold lit the night. Wintergreen frowned as his trembling finger found the button in the lower right hand corner of the computer keyboard.
"Slade?"
The Terminators smile was acid.
"Do it. The chase is on."
It was a dark hole of a place. Dank, poorly lit, stinking of filth and disuse. All the streetlights but one had been shattered by bored children, and oily refuse ~ grease-soaked papers, rags, cardboard boxes ~ covered the lot, a sure invitation to fire. He would have to alert the Commissioner to the violations here when this whole affair was ended.
Black on black, a shadow within shadows, the lean muscular figure of the Batman lingered near the edge of the gated compound, uncertain of the best course. A steady rain pelted his broad shoulders and steam rose from the asphalt as nearby fog horns sounded, reminding him he was near the shipping lanes. The abandoned lot wore the right face, it appeared to be the sort of place criminals often chose for illicit purposes, but something didn't ring true. Perhaps it was the lack of a human presence. There were no guards. No oafish henchmen. Somehow in Gotham their presence was almost mandated. Or perhaps what bothered him was not the destination, but the path taken to reach it. It had been too easy. Dick could have followed the trail at the age of ten. Still, this was where he had been led and he had to assume that somewhere ahead, in one of several thousand wooden cargo boxes that were nailed shut and chained for easy removal, the Princess of Tamaran lay. Resting his night-vision goggles on his knee, he paused, reflecting on the woman his ward had chosen to love. He really knew little of her other than the gossip that flew about at JLA headquarters, coming secondhand from Diana and the other Titans mentors. He had never spoken to Dick about her. Never spoken directly to her other than in the midst of battle, and then angrily. Her naturally assertive nature and predilection for emotion went against his grain. Lifting the glasses once again to the blank openings in his cowl, he suddenly became uncomfortably aware of the future. This was the woman Dick loved and might no, most likely would marry. Dick with a wife. Perhaps children. Would that make him a grandfather of sorts? Could he be a grandfather? The Batman sighed, lowering the glasses to shift their orientation from sight to heat ~ the Princess was, after all, solar powered ~ and as he did, he smiled grimly. In every way his ward was his own man now, and a very different man from the one he had become.
As Alfred would say, "Thank God".
Utilizing the recalibrated binoculars he began to scan the area for any abnormal hot spots. Surprisingly, none of the dark boxes ahead of him showed anything unusual, but nearly a quarter mile ahead one of the old tumble-down buildings on the wharf was glowing like the aftermath of an atom bomb. The readings were almost off the scale and still climbing. Depressing a small button on the bat-line, he shot a grappling hook far across the empty lot into the side of the sagging structure and winged out into the night, enjoying the sensation of the sea air striking his exposed skin even as his mind raced ahead, exploring a thousand different possible scenarios for what he might find when he arrived.
Landing lightly on the corrugated metal roof of the building, he could see steam rising and feel the heat pulsing through the soles of his insulated boots. Cautiously, he leaned over the edge of the filthy skylight and peered inside. The warehouse itself was standard, jammed with another thousand or so boxes of various types of merchandise, and at first glance nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then, upon closer inspection, he realized one of the boxes was pulsing. Behind him the suns rays were growing in strength as dawn raced to overtake the night, so that even as he watched, its rosy shafts began to fall upon the wooden crate, illuminating it, revealing the curious way in which it seemed to be breathing. The boards moving in and out. Out and in. Balling his fist, the Batman brought it down with force, shattering one of the thick glass panels so that shards of its rained down on the glowing box. He opened his mouth to call out, sure he had found the Princess, but was momentarily distracted as the Batsignal lit the early morning sky, its black and gold bat sadly out of place against the pale yellows and golds of the waxing day.
Gordon was out of town. Who?
From below a roar began to build, wild and primitive like the cry of an angered beast, as from within the box beams of scarlet light began to stream. The Batman hesitated, mesmerized by its ferocious beauty. A second later, he realized his peril. In the same instant his keen eyes caught sight of the thin crystal-clear wires that encircled the outside of the crate and the tiny power generator they disappeared into.
"Koriandr, no!" he screamed.
Too late.
On the rooftop of the Gotham City Police Department Nightwing and Jericho watched the light of the Batsignal sweep the night sky. The darker-haired of the two checked his chronometer and sighed, then signaled the police officer on duty to cut the power.
Jericho frowned and signed, What is it? Are you giving up so soon?
Nightwing shook his head and walked to the edge of the building, his heart torn. "Somewhere out there, Jericho, the Batman is in danger. Otherwise he would have been here by now." He waved at the slender officer who waited by the now darkened signal and called out, "Thanks for trying, Montoya"
The dark-eyed beauty nodded her head, curious but asking no questions. It wasn't often this one showed up in Gotham. "Anything else I can do?"
"No, not now." He crossed the roof to face her and placed his hand on her shoulder, smiling. "Thanks again. We'll let ourselves out."
She smiled back. "I bet you will."
As soon as she had exited the roof closing the stairway door behind her, Nightwing turned to his friend, hands on his hips.
"Joe, I need the truth."
Jerichos large green eyes widened in innocence. Truth?
Nightwing took a deep breath. This wasn't easy. "First of all, where is Kory?"
Lines of concern marred the blonds angelic face. You want the truth? I don't know.
The dark-haired crimefighter moved closer, tilting his head and fixing his friend with his ice-blue eyes. "Should you?"
Jericho hesitated but then the muscles in his face seemed to set as though he had made a decision and he shook his head. No. I am not her keeper. She was upset and flew off to be alone, then we left. Why should I know where she is?
Nightwing continued to stare at his friend and then turned to stare at the darkened signal. A myriad of conflicting emotions ran like a river through him, threatening to carry him away. Where was Kory? What was she up to? He felt anger rise in him unbidden, anger at his friends deliberate lies ~ yes ~ but mostly anger at his own inability to figure out what was happening. Someone was trying hard to make him to believe there was a contract out on Bruces life and that Slade Wilson was behind it. Now it seemed that someone was either his lover or his best friend maybe both.. A silent rage welled up within him, boiling over into despair. There was something here he should be able to see. Something that should help him to understand and allow him to move forward instead of feeling so helpless. In the rushing torrent that was his life, Brother Bloods conditioning had left him uncertain of whom he could trust, but these two ~ Kory and Jericho ~ had been the rocks around which he knew he could throw his arms. They had never given him any reason to doubt until now. If they were lying to him, leading him astray, then everything had changed. Unless. Unless they were under the influence of someone else. Maybe one of their old enemies like the Fatal Five.
That or this was the most elaborate set-up for a surprise birthday party he had ever heard of.
The trouble was, his birthday was months away.
And Bruce was missing.
He turned back to Jericho and resisted the urge to pin him to the wall to force a pledge of loyalty out of him. It would do no good. If he was being used, he would be compelled to lie. His words would be meaningless, and later it would only serve to make him feel ashamed. Just as he did each and every day. He had been put to the test and failed to measure up. He had been broken and he was ashamed.
He should have been better than that.
He met his friends wide green eyes once again and knew, no matter what, in the end the mute could not be forced to betray him. There had been no end to the torture he had endured at Bloods Confessors hand, but even then, he had been able to retain a part of himself ~ something that would not allow him to betray or kill his friends. Joey could do no less.
A slow smile crept across his lips as he gestured for his friend to accompany him and stepped off the side of the building.
Jericho followed Nightwing, catching hold of the line he had readied for him, his heart heavy but his hopes high. Dick was already acting more like himself, taking charge, thinking on the move. Still, regardless of their pure motives, he still felt like Judas trailing his master, waiting for an opportune moment to deliver the kiss.
Kory had better be right.
************ Wearing the uniform of his mercenary alter ego, the Terminator, Slade Wilson moved with ease about the abandoned wharf, flickering in and out of the shadows like a predatory bird. He felt strong and confident. As well he should. Thanks to the American military and its secret agenda, he had been turned into a superhuman fighting machine, his faculties at least a thousand times more acute than those of the average man. He simply was the best. And yet, in some ways, he had to admit that the one he sought was better. He was only human and yet ~ fragile weak creature that he was ~ he had still managed to outsmart him. It was with a respect born of experience that he began this chase. It was, in fact, that respect for his prey which had brought him to Gotham in the first place.
That and greed.
Pausing just outside the chain-link fence that surrounded the warehouse he noticed scarlet-red beams lighting the night sky. As a blast sounded from within the dilapidated building, a smug smile crossed his lips.
Now the party could really begin.
A quarter of an hour later, twin silver doors banged shut, the thunder of their closing echoing into the quiet night. Next to them a curiously attired man shifted the dark mask that eclipsed his features and wiped soot from the back of one of his shiny white gloves.
With measured calm, he turned towards the warehouse and stared, seemingly enraptured. Fires had broken out in the interior which threatened to spread to the structure itself. In the distance he could hear the fire trucks and see the brilliant lights of the harbor patrol as they approached. He had come to confirm what his agent had told him and to see if the mans motives were true. Obviously, he needing have worried.
Glancing through the dark portals cut in the vans quilted metal exterior, he could just make out the tall slender alien, her long leggy form crumpled in a heap on the bare floor. And beside her, the unconscious form of another; a darkly clad man costumed as a bat to inspire fear in the weak and foolish.
Two for the price of one.
Without warning a figure swooped down from the shadows. Arrogantly, he surveyed the damage: the crate laid waste, the fire, and the two insensate figures in the van. And then he smiled. His hood was off and his white hair wafted in the breeze as he nodded to the other man and then moved to take the drivers seat.
Amazing. He had almost taken him by surprise. A man of rare talent and integrity.
The master would have been pleased.
Five minutes later Nightwing and Jericho alighted near the still smoldering warehouse. They had seen the explosion and responded to it without thought, momentarily forgetting their own problems as they moved to prevent loss of life. Fire crews were just arriving by land and by sea, and as they began to disembark from their vehicles, hooking up hoses and moving equipment in, the two heroes waved them aside and raced into the dangerous ruin, intent on freeing anyone trapped.
Running close behind Nightwing, Jericho found his mind wandering. Not for the first time he wondered if the choice he had made was the right one. The Princess had been so distraught that night. Overwhelmed by her lovers loss of self. Desperate to help him. At the time her request had seemed reasonable even if he had had his doubts that she could pull it off. But now, with the Batmans disappearance it seemed she had, and now he found that success weighing heavily on him.
Dick was suspicious. But then, they had known he would be. That was why she had gone to the source. Still, it had thrown him when the other man had been so direct with him, all but accusing him of lying. And yet, what was the truth? As he followed Dick around another corner, completing their survey of the interior of the warehouse, he had to wonder. Koriandr didn't seem to be following the plan. Bruce had disappeared, but then, so had she. He hadn't heard a word from her in over twenty hours, and he was beginning to get nervous.
Glancing ahead he realized water was at last being pumped into the structure, falling like rain from heaven through the broken skylight under which his companion Nightwing had stopped. The crimefighter's hair was dripping, but he continued to stare upwards, his sharp eyes fixed on the remains of a power-driven line that swung in the wind fanned by the dying flames.
Jericho took a step to join him but before he could, a gloved hand shot out of the smoke-filled shadows behind him, covering his mouth. He struggled briefly but ceased fighting when a familiar voice ~ gruff but with an edge of gentleness ~ whispered near his ear, "Well, son, long time no see."
Jericho closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. How could they have know? His father was involved.
************ Koriandr awoke, aware that she was no longer a prisoner in a box in a warehouse, but with no idea of where she was. For a moment she simply hung limp, gathering strength and listening for any sound of her captor. When she heard nothing, she dared to open her large green eyes and almost screamed. Before her, only partially visible in the rooms pale lighting, lay a battered form strapped to a cold metal table. As her eyes adjusted she could see dark red blood crusting on its broken ribs and battered face, and black hair matted against pale skin that shone white as the dune sea. There wasn't much of his costume left, but what she could see was scorched and shredded. Horrified, she attempted to move, to fly to his side, only then becoming aware of her own restraints. Glancing up she noted they were sophisticated this time, perhaps inescapable. Her power was not only dampened, it was being drained. She was weak. Without renewed exposure to the sun, she wasn't going anywhere. And glancing about the perimeter of the shadowy room, she could find no indication of any windows. Whoever had placed her here had made certain its revitalizing rays would not reach her. Curiously, she was not gagged, as though wherever they were being held, there was no possibility of anyone hearing her if she cried out ~
Or perhaps someone wanted her to be heard if she cried out.
Drawing a breath, she called as quietly as she could, "Dick? Are you all right?"
Silence greeted her. She listened hard, but she couldn't even hear him breathing.
"Dick?"
She felt her heart plummet to her stomach. She couldn't begin to imagine what had happened unless he had tracked down her kidnapper and fought with him. From the looks of him it would have to have been some kind of a beast. unless. Startled, she recognized the signs of electrical shock and realized he could have been wounded in her own escape attempt. If he had been standing too near or dangling above when she broke free.
Tears filled her eyes as she spoke gently into the darkness. "Oh, Dick, please be all right. I didn't mean ~"
A ragged breath slowly drawn told her he was awake and alive, but she wasn't prepared for the words which came with it. "Not Dick. Not Nightwing." He corrected.
Koriandr gasped.
The Batman.
Outside the narrow room, a tall figure waited, hooded and cloaked. Within his dark mask he wore a sick twisted smile. Both were secured. The trap was set.
Let him come.