|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
Batman
Gotham Knights
Part 1
Gotham City, 2 AM:
A solitary figure stood watch over the city. From his perch high on the spire of the Gotham Cathedral, he could hear the sounds of the city's slow recovery. Work proceeded around the clock; mixed crews of city employees, Army reservists, and citizen volunteers slowly cleared his beloved city of the entangling plant growth that plagued Gotham. He recalled the rampage of the creature called Swamp Thing by the press, a being he once called friend, but who was now little more than a rogue force of nature. Three weeks ago, they had cleared most of the inner sections of the city. Now, with spring's early arrival, the greenery was creeping back toward the city's heart.
He had not joined in the clean-up efforts. It was not just his usual desire to remain apart from the crowds that had motivated this: he had other responsibilities. Not all that long after the recent global Crisis that rocked the world and devastated his city, one of his most implacable foes unleashed a horde of madmen upon the city when he all but destroyed the infamous Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, as well as the State Prison. The former inmates, many of them foes of Gotham's Guardian, scattered in all directions. Some of the most dangerous ones had joined Ra's al Ghul in his unsuccessful plot for power. Others had gone their own ways, to further their own little schemes. Most of them, such as all of the Ra's al Ghul group, had been put back in custody, being held in institutions up and down the east coast while both prison and Arkham were being rebuilt. However, some of the most dangerous of his enemies, such as Killer Moth, Dagger, and the Joker, had escaped custody shortly after their recapture with the others.
He was not directly active in the capture of the ones who had decided not to join Ra's al Ghul, however. He'd worked behind the scenes to assemble, and at times direct, the team tracking down many of the escapees. But it was not his hand that delivered them back into custody. His attentions laid elsewhere still.
For now, he sat upon a ledge, a momentary respite from the crusade he waged to keep the people of his city safe. Already tonight, he had captured two of the demented escapees, and he had received word that another was brought down by one of his allies. Despite their strange names and silly-seeming costumes, the Kiteman, the Cluemaster, and the Calendar Man were dangerous criminals. Now, they were simply three more guests of the state.
His reverie was interrupted by a soft beep. He reached for the radio transceiver on his belt and listened.
"Gotham River Pier? Dock 38? I've got it, Alfred. I'll see you in a few hours."
Replacing the unit on the belt around his waist, the Batman rose to his feet, swung a line out across the gulf to another building. Then, with only the faintest rustle of cloth, he was gone.
Part 2
Contrary to the image portrayed in movies, Gotham's docks were not a quiet place at night. Many of the warehouses and cargo transfer facilities operated twenty-four hours a day, and always in the background was the sound of water rushing around wooden pilings and cast-concrete supports. It took little effort for the Batman to drop unheard behind his oldest friend.
"Good morning, Jim. It's a little early for you, isn't it?"
Police Commissioner James Gordon turned at the low voice. "Late, actually. We moved into the new Police Headquarters today, and I had to catch up on my manpower reviews. As if they matter these days."
"Don't worry; it will be settling down soon," reassured the Dark Knight.
"I'm still keeping extra men on duty until we have all the high profile ones back in custody." The grey-haired Commissioner struck a match and lit his pipe. "You and your team can't be expected to catch all of them, after all."
"They're doing what they can. Your men have nabbed their share of the escapees, though. Good men, with a good leader." Batman paused, sniffing the air. "You're working too much, Jim. You haven't even had time to pick up your brand."
"No, Calhoun's was out. This was a gift from Bullock." Gordon took the pipe from his mouth and stared at the bowl. "Surprised me, actually. I think he's finally getting over my taking the job back."
"We all learn to adjust." Even I do, thought the Batman, recalling the last few months.
Reading his thoughts, Gordon commented, "I imagine even you had some adjusting to do, hmm? You dropped out of sight for a while there."
"I had some things to take care of. Batwoman did a good job of filling in, though."
This brought a flush of pride to the veteran officer's face. "She did at that. Not your level of efficiency, but her group cleaned up a lot of the troublemakers who were left after the Crisis."
What would you think, mused Batman, if you knew that she was doing that because I had lost faith in my ability to handle the problems?
Batman's thoughts flashed back to the months following the defeat of the Anti-Monitor. It was the time of the Swamp Thing's attack on Gotham, even as he was struggling with tracking down one of the remaining escapees after he and his allies recaptured the entire Ra's al Ghul group. While on the trail of the slippery Black Mask, it had struck him. All of the losses, the defeats, the tragedies of the Crisis suddenly overwhelmed him. He had broken off the fight, and returned home. Casting his cape and cowl over the main computer console in the Batcave, he had gone up to his study, the same place where he had first been inspired to don the guise of a bat in his crusade against crime. There, he sat slumped in a chair before the fireplace.
Six hours later, he had not moved. His ever-faithful friend and manservant, Alfred Pennyworth, arose before dawn to begin his daily routine. He found the master of Wayne Manor staring at an empty fireplace.
"Master Bruce? Are you all right, sir?" he asked cautiously.
"No, Alfred, I don't think I am. Here I am, a man in my thirties, the president of no less than four major corporations, majority stockholder in at least a dozen others, and what do I do with my time? I run around, looking for nut-cases to fight with. And what does it all add up to in the end? Not a damned thing!"
"Is that what you truly think of your mission in life, sir? As an empty pursuit, with no lasting effect?"
Bruce rose from his chair, walked over to the French doors leading to the terrace, and gazed out over the distant lights of Gotham. "Take a good, hard look out there, Alfred! More than half of all those freaks that I put behind bars over the last fifteen years are back out on the street! The city that I've spent my whole adult life protecting is overrun with kudzu and willow trees! Dick is missing, Batgirl is lost in grief over Supergirl's death, Jason is off trying to find Natalia, and a dozen or more good men and women have died because some cosmic freak was wiping whole realities off the celestial map!" He turned back to face his oldest, most trusted friend. "And here I am, running around in a cape and cowl, trying to bag the bad guys again." His shoulders slumped, all energy gone.
"Bruce, if I may, I think you are expecting too much, and letting yourself be blinded to the real work you have done." Alfred Pennyworth reached for a high-powered pair of bird-watching binoculars on a shelf, and stepped over to the windows. He held them up, scanning the city. "I look out there, and I see people at work clearing the vines from schools and fire stations. I've driven down there, and seen people of all stations working together. Two days ago, I read the news story about three teenaged boys bringing the Tweed brothers into their local police station after their recent escape from custody." He lowered the binoculars and turned back to the man he served for so long. "I hardly think most cities could count on such resilience from their citizenry, sir. But, if those people have had a hero, a shining example of what one man can, indeed, do, I daresay that they will think nothing of making such an extra effort."
Bruce Wayne sat for a moment, considering his butler's words. "All right, then. It isn't hopeless. However, it's time for Bruce Wayne to pull his share of the load, and let Batman take the back seat for a while."
The weeks that followed were busy ones for Bruce Wayne. As the city's leading industrialist, he spearheaded the taskforce for the city's restoration. Within the first week, the rag-tag groups of volunteers that were clearing the rampant growth were organized and given the tools and support that they needed for the job. All Wayne Industries divisions offered leave with full pay, plus incentives, for workers who helped in the effort. The Wayne Foundation organized temporary shelters for those who lost their homes in the Crisis and helped families recover from attacks of marauding escapees.
Meanwhile, the Batman made arrangements for the capture of the escaped criminals and inmates. Via phone and video link, he pulled together the team known only to a certain few as the Secret Six. The team had served a couple of purposes. It maintained a superhero presence in Gotham while he was occupied. It put Batgirl, who had now adopted the name Batwoman as her own, in a position of leadership, thus giving her back her confidence and her sense of self-worth. And lastly, the Six had done a good job of rounding up several of the at-large villains. Almost half a year after the Crisis, the team was temporarily disbanded, but should the need ever arise they would join together again.
Dick Grayson had disappeared during the Crisis, leading Bruce to fear the worst about his original partner. Thankfully, Wonder Girl had thought to send word via the Justice League that Nightwing had gone to the planet Tamaran with the Princess Koriand'r. Word had it that Dick had returned without the woman he loved. He had not come back to Gotham, however.
Jason had searched futilely for the woman he had come to regard as a second mother. Natalia Knight had been severely injured, and the new Robin had tried to get her away from danger by putting her in a hot-air balloon. She had apparently gotten out of the danger zone, but no trace of the balloon had been found. Heartbroken, the boy had returned to Wayne Manor. They spoke of her on occasion, but for now Jason Todd seemed determined to make the identity of Robin his own. Now, on Bruce's advice, he was off with the Titans
Bruce Wayne had himself operated as Batman only as the leader of the Outsiders, a team which he himself had founded, and their cases took them places other than Gotham itself. He had pretended to attempt a disbanding of the Outsiders only a couple of months earlier, with the intention of having them decide to stay together themselves, now no longer needing his leadership, and it had worked out fine. The situation was reversed now, though: he needed them. Between his work with the Wayne Foundation, the Outsiders, and occasionally the JLA, he'd kept himself so busy as to avoid the problems of Gotham, leaving them in the hands of the Gotham Police Department and the Secret Six for several weeks.
Part 5
Batman snapped back to the present as Detective Harvey Bullock shambled up to Commissioner Gordon.
"What's the situation, Harv?" asked Gordon.
"We got a couple of costumed types holed up in the shipping office, Commish. Crazy Quilt and Signalman, someone caught them tinkering with some of the harbor control lights."
"Sounds about right," said the Batman. "One has a fascination for any kind of signaling device, and the other is obsessed with color. Switch the colored lenses on the traffic control lights, and you have barges colliding, spilled cargo, and chaos."
Gordon shook his head. "I don't think most of these guys are even doing it for gain anymore. It's just a big game to them."
"Well, say the word, and I turn the game into a shooting gallery, and finish it off," added Bullock.
"No. No guns." As usual, the Dark Knight's opposition to guns mystified the detective. "I'll take them down. Keep your men out here, just in case." A rustle of cloth, and the space where Batman had stood was empty.
"What's with the Bat and guns, Commish?" asked Bullock. "Tough as he is on the crooks, you'd think he would encourage us to take them down."
"I can't say for certain, Harvey, but I think it's something that strikes to the core of his reasons for being the Batman." Gordon took a couple of slow draws on his pipe, lost in thought. "Spread the word. Nobody goes inside, but if either of those perps comes out on his own, take them down."
Part 6
The muffled roar of a motorcycle echoed through the cavern. It took several moments for the cycle to reach the garage area, and by the time it arrived there was a person waiting.
"Good evening, Master Robin. Did all go well with the Titans?"
"Just great, Alfred. Halfway around the world, tracking down some nut who thinks a wired hat makes him a god. Damn, if that's what being a Titan is all about, I'm not sure I want in." Robin removed his helmet and tossed it to the faithful Wayne family retainer.
"Language, please, Master Jason." Alfred deftly caught the helmet and hooked the strap over one arm. "From all that Master Dick told me over the years, there is a lot more to it than that. I think so long as Master Bruce encourages it, it behooves you to gain the broader experience the Titans offer outside of Gotham."
"That's what I love about you, Alfred. You always sum things up in a couple of quick words." Jason Todd grinned as he removed his mask and cape and made his way to a sink. "I gotta do something about this costume. The hair dye just isn't working out." He turned on the water, bent over the sink, and started to vigorously scrub his hair. The water quickly turned black, and his natural red started to show through the dye. "Had to touch it up three times today, but now it will take forever to wash out."
Alfred moved to a locker to hang up the helmet and portions of Robin's costume. "I have been thinking along the same lines, Master Jason. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of making some alterations to one of your costumes." He reached into another locker, pulled forth a garment bag, and spread its contents out over a work table.
"What's that?" asked Jason, switching off the water and wrapping his head in a towel. He spied the uniform before him, and his eyes lit up. "Hey, that's all right! Let me see how it looks!"
Moments later, Robin stepped out from behind a dressing screen and surveyed himself in a mirror. The red vest and green gloves of the costume remained unchanged. In place of the green shorts, full length green leggings covered the full length of his legs, tucked into black, high-top boots. The short yellow cape was replaced by a longer cape, with a metallic gold inner surface and a non-reflecting black exterior. The cape extended up to a hood that fell loosely over his forehead. Under the hood, a dark green mask covering from mid-forehead down to the bridge of the nose was visible.
"Awesome! Still unmistakably Robin, but all my own!" He gripped one edge of the cape, swirling it around. "Thanks, Alfred!"
"I'm glad you like it, sir." Alfred's face bore a pleased smile. "Oh, and this arrived for you, sir. By way of Police Headquarters." He held out an envelope with no markings, except a typewritten line that read, "For the eyes of Robin only."
Jason pulled the hood and mask off before opening the envelope. He pulled out a photo and a typewritten note. His hands started to shake when he saw the picture.
"Jason? What's the matter?" asked Alfred.
Part 7
"I'm telling you, I saw cop cars out there!"
"Yeah, right. With your eyes, it was probably a tow truck. You know you can't see as well with your optical sensors as you once could with your eyes. Cops never come down here at night. Now, shut up and let me get the timing sequence reset for those buoy lights." The costumed crook known as the Signalman bent over a hastily built control board. "Now that I've seen these maps for the shipping lanes, I can set these buoys to guide that shipment of construction material right into our own little private harbor. With all the work they're doing in Gotham right now, someone will pay big money to get it back!"
"Okay, but I'm going back out to check. Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I can't tell a cop car from an ambulance. Remember, I see bright, vivid colors better than anything else." Crazy Quilt slipped from the room, leaving his partner alone.
Signalman removed one connecting wire from his circuit, then inserted three more. "That should do it. The testing sequence will show up in shades of dark blue that nobody will notice, but Crazy Eyes there can spot them from the top floor of the warehouse with his lenses," he said to himself, or so he thinks.
"Only if he can see them from the holding area up at the National Guard base."
"What the--?" gasped Signalman, turning just in time to be struck full in the face by a pair of booted feet swinging down from above. He was flung backward across a desk as Batman descended from the open web ironwork of the ceiling and landed in front of him. The costumed crook reached for a gun-like device at his belt, only to have it swatted away. A fist struck his face, stunning him. He didn't even try to block the second punch, the one that sent him into unconsciousness.
"Now for the deranged artist," said Gotham's defender.
Part 8
"She's alive! Somehow, she survived the Crisis! I've got to find her!"
"Find who, Master Jason? Is this about Natalia?"
"Yes! During the Crisis, she was injured. I couldn't get her to help, but there was a balloon. I put her in the basket, hoping she would get out of the danger area, and that I could track her down as soon as things calmed down. But it just disappeared. Now I know why." Jason handed the note and picture over to Alfred.
The photo showed the woman who had insinuated herself in Jason Todd's life, becoming a substitute mother to him. Bruised, battered, a poorly tended bandage across her chest, but her eyes were open. Alfred Pennyworth was not a gambling man, but he would be willing to wager that the woman in the picture was, indeed, alive.
The note was short, and to the point:
Robin:"A most unusual situation, Master Jason."If you value the life of this woman, you will come to 43°, 34°, 12 minutes north. You have until the end of April to come and retrieve her before I am no longer able to care for her.
An old friend."But Bruce will agree to go after her, right?" Jason looked up at the older man, hope clearly evident in his eyes.
"I am sure he will, Master Jason. I will bring this to his attention as soon as he returns. For now, though, I think it best if you get upstairs, and get to bed."
Part 9
"Signalman! I was right! The cops must be on to us!" The high, cracking voice carried throughout the half-empty warehouse. A lone man, dressed in a patchwork costume of every color imaginable, made his way through the aisles in the dark. The helmet on his head projected a combination of infrared and ultraviolet light. To most people, it appeared as a faint glow, but he was able to see by it through the optical sensors on his specially-modified helmet which plugged directly into his brain. "Are you sure that rocket contraption you left on the roof is safe? I'd hate to escape all those flat-foots, only to blow up in mid air!"
"To hear you talk, Quilt, I'd almost think I was in a bad Cagney movie."
"Who was that? Come on, show yourself!" The former artist known as Crazy Quilt glanced around, bathing the cavernous room with the eerie light from his lenses.
"Oh, we've met, but I wasn't particularly chatty." The voice seemed to come from the opposite direction. Quilt turned toward it. In his peripheral vision, he just spied the small cylinder sitting on a stack of boxes before he was blinded by what appeared through his goggles as a searingly bright burst of light.
"Aaiiieee!" His hands went to his eyes through force of habit, and he pulled his helmet away. Spots seemed to swim before his eyes, but he of course found himself in the dark now that he was totally blind without his helmet. He groped around, looking for something solid that would at least let him decide which way to run, but it was already too late. His hands closed around clothing, a lightweight fabric that was draped over a tall form.
"Thanks for playing guinea pig. I suspected that those electromagnetic flares that I use to disrupt electronics would play hell with ultraviolet sensors. Guess I was right." A hand held Crazy Quilt's wrist in a vise-like grip, and a foot swung up into his stomach as he was pulled across and into the path of the kick. A swift karate chop to the juncture of neck and shoulder, and the garish crook dropped to the floor.
The Batman pulled a radio from his utility belt. "Commissioner? Send your men in. One is in the office, and I have the other one in the warehouse. Send a couple of men up to the roof, too. Apparently, Signalman left some sort of escape rocket up there. Tell them to be careful, though: this guy's toys aren't known for their safety."
Moments later, the lights of the warehouse came on, and a number of police officers made their way through the stacks of crates and boxes, seeking the Batman. He called out to them as he walked toward the sound of the largest concentration of officers.
"Holeee, would you look at that?" said Harvey Bullock, pushing his battered hat back on his head.
"I heard they were bringing the top of that new lighthouse in as a single piece, but I just couldn't picture it," replied Gordon. In the middle of the warehouse, a huge glass and steel dome sat, lashed to its pallet.
Seeing it, an idea began to form in Batman's mind.
Part 10
The first hints of dawn were just lighting the eastern sky as the Batmobile wounds its way through the tunnels leading into the depths of the Batcave. As ever, Alfred was waiting in the garage area when the Dark Knight arrived.
"Good morning, Master Bruce. I heard the reports on the police band. It sounds like a successful night." The faithful butler served a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea, and took his master's cape and cowl over one outstretched arm.
"I'd say it was, Alfred. Possibly a great deal more than successful. I may have found a solution to Gotham's plant problem. I need to check the files on Mr. Freeze's ice gun." Bruce made his way over to the main console for the Batcave's supercomputer.
"Ice gun, sir? Oh, I believe I see." A debate played itself out in Alfred's mind over whether the news about Natalia Knight should have taken precedence, but he decided that Batman's train of thought was vital to the well-being of the entire city, and therefore was more important.
For the next three hours, Alfred kept a steady supply of tea, cold water, and fresh muffins coming to the Batcave. Each time he approached, Bruce had yet another simulation running on the Cary supercomputer that was normally only used to run the massive criminological database that the Caped Crusader relied upon in his battle against evil. This morning, however, the great electronic brain was being pushed to its limits as Bruce Wayne tried to devise a way to cleanse his city of the Swamp Thing's great, green legacy.
Finally, Bruce sat back in his chair, running his hands through his sweat-soaked hair. "That's all I can do for now, Alfred. It will take a few hours for these simulations to finish. When they're done, I'll compare the results and see if any of the configurations I came up with will work." He turned to face his oldest friend. "I think I'm ready for a shower, and about five hours of sleep."
"I took the liberty of re-scheduling all of your morning appointments, sir. You will, however, need to put in an appearance at the Wayne Foundation at noon, today. You should be able to get in three hours of sleep, and still make it in time." Alfred started up the steps.
"Make it two and a half. I can't get to bed without a shower first. I didn't break a sweat in that warehouse with Signalman and Crazy Quilt, but all this computer work makes me feel like I've just run five miles." Bruce followed the butler up to the study in Wayne Manor above. "By the way, Alfred, I saw the cycle in the garage. I take it Jason got in last night?"
Alfred stopped in his tracks. "Oh, yes! He got in around 2 AM. And there's news, sir, about Natalia. Apparently, she's alive! He's waiting to talk to you about it. Apparently, someone found her, and has sent a note to Robin, directing him to come and retrieve her." He started back up the stairs, and together they made their way to Jason's room. "I didn't disturb him, since there is no school today."
Bruce opened the door and stepped into the bedroom. He came back out, almost immediately.
"He's not there, Alfred. That bed hasn't been slept in for days."
"Dear me! Where could he have gotten to?"
Part 11
"Apparently Jason decided against waiting for me. He must have gone off to find Natalia himself." Bruce Wayne shook his head ruefully. "Can't say that I blame him, actually. With everything else going on, I haven't made as much of an effort to find her as he might have wanted."
"Actually, sir, he confided in me that he was grateful for all you've done. He may seem rather careless and headstrong, but he does have an exceptional understanding of what your priorities are, and his seem to be aligned with yours quite closely."
"Thank you, Alfred. I think I needed to hear that. Now, let's get back downstairs and see if we can determine where he's going, and how he's planning to get there."
A few minutes later, the two men were gazing at a map of the Middle East.
"Right smack in the middle of Qurac. Dear God, what is Jason getting into here?"
"How could Miss Knight have reached Qurac from Gotham in a hot air balloon, though?" asked Alfred. "Surely, she must have been intercepted somewhere, then taken there."
"That, or it's just a ploy to get Robin as far away from Gotham as possible."
"Just Robin? Or does the perpetrator expect that Batman shall follow?"
"As night follows day, old friend. However, that doesn't mean that Gotham will be left defenseless. I'll speak with Batwoman, Ragman and Kirk Langstrom before I leave Gotham. They'll keep an eye on things here." The Dark Knight turned to a computer console. "Now, to figure out how he might be traveling." His fingers flew over the keyboard, and within moments the schedules of all flights leaving Gotham with connections to the Middle East were displayed on the screen.
As he did this, Alfred glanced at the tell-tale lights that indicated the status of each of the Batcave's garage, docking and hangar section. Each was glowing green, indicating that their vehicles were in their proper place. However, on closer examination, the faithful Wayne family retainer spied a single wire that shouldn't have been there.
"Master Bruce, I don't think it will be necessary to check the airlines." As Bruce turned his attention to the status board, Alfred reached up and pulled a jumper wire out of the edge of the circuit board. As he did, one of the tell-tales glowed bright red. "It appears that he took the Batplane."
Part 12
"Don't worry, Batman. We can handle things while you're gone."
"Of course you can, Kirk. I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you could. There's one other thing I'd like you folks to look into while I'm gone, though." Batman glanced over the printouts scattered on the desk in front of him.
"An open case you need wrapped up?" asked Batwoman from her end of the conference call.
"No. I had a bit of a brainstorm the other night. Check with Gordon about getting the use of the new lighthouse dome assembly. I did some checking on the technology that Mr. Freeze uses for his freeze ray. I think that a large scale version could be built and used with the lenses set into the dome to..."
"Hey, I see where you're going! Kirk, you and I should be able to rig this up, right?" asked Rory Regan, the strange avenger of the night known as Ragman.
"That's what I'm counting on. I've drawn up some rough plans to start with. I'll have them dropped off at the Museum, Kirk."
"We'll do what we can," replied Langstrom. "Good luck, Batman."
Two hours later, a sleek Leer Jet streaked into the sky from Gotham International Airport.
"This is certainly a switch, Alfred."
"Very true sir. Usually, you are flying home on a Wayne Enterprises jet after wrecking one of your more specialized craft during a mission." Ever the loyal servant, Alfred brought a bottle of mineral water and a glass to Bruce's seat in the cabin.
"Sit down, Alfred. You've been up as long as I have, if not longer." Bruce indicated the seat across from him.
"Thank you, Bruce. It has been a long day, and night, and day, I suppose."
"Exactly." Bruce stood and reached up into the storage compartment above the seat. "That's why you and I both are going to take advantage of the trans-Atlantic flight to catch a little shut-eye. I left instructions with the crew to wake us up a half hour before we land in Lisbon." He tossed a blanket and a pillow to Alfred, then found a set for himself.
"Lisbon, sir? Wouldn't Jason be more likely to fly to London for refueling?"
"Not if he checks the list of arranged fueling areas I keep prepared for the Batplane. The Wayne Industries airfield south of London was heavily damaged during the Crisis, and hasn't been repaired yet. Lisbon is the best bet for a flight to Qurac."
Alfred reclined his seat, arranged the pillow, and unfolded the blanket over himself. "Very well then, sir. I'll see you in Lisbon."
Part 13
Several hours later, thirty miles northwest of Al Mubarraz, Qurac, a black jet aircraft circled under the normal scanning area for the nation's radar systems. With the star-ridden night sky overhead, the plane was visible only as a silhouette to anyone on the ground.
"Nothing around here for miles, except for those tents. That must be where she's being held. No place to land, though."
Robin flipped through a stack of pre-punched computer cards until he found the one he wanted. He took it from the deck and slid into a slot on the plane's control panel. Lights flickered, then a row of indicators glowed green.
"There, now when I punch the autopilot, the plane will fly itself to the USAF airfield in Cypress and land itself. Unless, of course, someone shoots it down first."
Quickly checking the contents of a backpack, Robin donned a parachute, and wrapped the pack's straps around one arm. He pressed the stick forward, bringing the plane as low as he could safely fly it over the desert on the next pass. He leveled out, and gauged his distance from the encampment. When he felt his position was right, he pulled back on a lever next to his seat.
POOOMF!
The cowling of the cockpit slid back on well-lubricated tracks, breaking the seals that held the cabin's pressure steady. Robin didn't have time to feel the rush of air before the seat thrusted upward, propelling him out of the plane. A detached part of his mind noted the seat dropping back into the plane and the cowling sliding back into place. The rest of his mind was focusing on timing his flight, and pulling the ripcord on his chute when he reached the peak of his arc in the sky. Too bad the Air Force gave up on that idea! he thought as the chute billowed overhead and he began his slow descent. Between the navigational computer and the reusable ejection system, they could save a lot of planes and pilots.
His calculations were proven to be correct, as he touched down a mere forty yards from the encampment. His descent, however, had not gone unnoticed. No sooner did Robin free himself from the parachute harness, than there was a blaze of lights at the encampment. He stared as the true nature of the tents and other structures became apparent. Sweeping floodlights illuminated garishly-painted canvas. Plywood signs displayed oddities of all types, and booths filled with stuffed animals and decorated mirrors stood empty.
"Great! A circus!" exclaimed Robin, surveying the sight through binoculars. "I'm out in the middle of the freaking dessert, and there's a freaking circus."
He put away the binoculars and started walking toward the tents. Already, he could spot figures emerging to meet him.
"That's right. Send out the clowns."
Part 14
"Ah, there you are, sir. I take it we will be arriving in Lisbon shortly," Alfred said as he stood by the door to one of the plane's washrooms.
"Actually, if you look out the port there, you may see the southern coast of Greece," Bruce replied as he shaved.
"Greece? My word, sir, I--"
"Don't worry, Alfred. I specifically told the crew not to disturb you when they woke me. I figured you needed the rest more than I did."
"I suppose I did. Was there any word about Master Jason?"
"He stopped there to refuel, as I thought he would. And the Batplane landed at Cypress about thirty minutes ago. Without Jason." Bruce emerged from the washroom, patting his face and neck dry. "I'll be suiting up shortly and transferring to the cargo compartment. From there, I can jettison and drop into the area."
"Where should I have the pilot land the plane to await your word, Master Bruce?"
"I placed a call from Lisbon to Saudi Arabia. Prince Fahid el Akhar is more than happy to allow us the use of his airfield for a couple of days, while Bruce Wayne is in sensitive negotiations with the Quraci Foreign Minister." Bruce grinned. "So, Alfred, have you kept your acting skills polished up?"
"Of course, I have, sir!" said the butler, feigning insult.
"Good, because it wouldn't do for the Prince to realize that I am playing on his good will. The pilots, of course, know that Batman slipped aboard disguised as Bruce Wayne in Lisbon, and will play along as well."
"Not to worry, Master Bruce."
A scant hour later, the Wayne Enterprises corporate jet crossed briefly into Quraci airspace. Almost immediately, the small nations air defenses were activated, and a trio of jets were scrambled. Before they came within visible range, a flurry of radio messages were exchanged, and the Quraci officials were convinced that the incursion was the result of a minor malfunction in the jet's navigational computer. Its flight path was adjusted, and soon the jet was on its way to Saudi Arabia.
Unseen by the Quraci radar systems was an ultralight aircraft that slipped out of a briefly opened cargo bay door on the jet.
Part 15
High atop the Wayne Industries building, a strange trio labored over a stranger device.
"Okay, Man-Bat, just a bit to the right!" A thin figure dressed in rags gestured to the grotesque figure flying above him, bearing a large glass and metal assembly. "These lenses are the last thing to go. Now, down, down." He reached up to steady the assembly and align it with the mounting pins below. A smile was just visible through his cloth mask as he fit it into place. "That's it!"
"Thank God!" came a guttural reply from the transformed Kirk Langstrom. "That thing weighs close to four hundred pounds, Ragman."
"You've done good, Man-Bat. Take a rest while I hook up the control panel," said a soft, female voice. On the far side of the large device, Batwoman worked with a small torch and pliers, connecting a switch panel and a bank of digital readouts to control ports on a mini-computer. "The frequency variations that are going to be needed by this thing are way beyond anything a human mind could handle. It's all going to have to be computer controlled. Give me about a half hour, and we can try a test run with it."
Man-Bat dropped to the roof, and reached for his belt. From a secured pocket, he took a small capsule and popped it in his mouth. This triggered a metamorphic reaction, his form shrunk and contorted, until the monstrous half-man/half-bat creature was gone, and a mild-mannered museum curator stood in its place.
"Thanks, I can use it. Any coffee left?"
The Ragman walked over with a large Thermos jug and a cup. "Here ya go, fella. You look like you could use it."
An hour later, the Man-Bat was once again soaring over Gotham, surveying the results of their test.
"Adams Boulevard is cleared, Batwoman, along with Novick Parkway and the west district. Good job on programming that thing, the trees, gardens and shrubs are still here, but the swamp growth has all withered away from the cold. The grass isn't in such good shape, but that's about normal for the end of winter, anyway," he said into a radio transmitter.
"Good. I'll talk with the Mayor and the Commissioner. Thanks to those officers who volunteered to be in the test area, we know that we don't have to evacuate parts of the city while we clear the plant growth left behind by the Swamp Thing. With their approval, we'll have the city cleared in two days!"
Part 16
Darkness. Nothing but darkness.
Robin reached for his utility belt, seeking a flashlight. The belt was gone. Not to be undone, he reached for his boot.
Hope Alfred included all the gimmicks of my old costume in this one, he thought as his fingers deftly pressed a set of nearly undetectable pressure pads around the edges of the heel. He was rewarded with a soft click as the bottom surface of the heel separated from the boot. In a cavity, he quickly located a miniature penlight. "Now to see where the heck I am."
The tiny LED emitted a narrow beam of light. Sweeping it around, Robin was startled to find that there were no walls. He was sitting on the floor in an enormous room or cavern, his ankles chained to rings in the floor.
"Ah, the prodigal son awakens!" said a high-pitched voice, seeming to come from all around him. Robin's blood turned to ice as he recognized the speaker. "I was starting to fear that my boys might have done some serious damage, bringing you down. Not that I would blame them! Why, poor Bobo won't be able to walk upright for days, I'm sure, and Clem's broken nose simply refused to stop bleeding!" The voice dropped into a menacingly low register. "At least, not until I blew his head off!"
"What, what do you want?" asked Robin, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Where am I?"
"What I want, little bird-boy, is quite simple: chaos! Complete and unadulterated chaos! During the Crisis, the worlds were jumbled, people, animals and buildings were slipping through time, all those delightful little anti-matter demons running amok everywhere! It was wonderful!" Again, the voice dropped, taking a thoughtful tone. "Now, I know that little-ol-me can't hope to re-create that. So, I'll just have to make do now, won't I? HAA HAA HAA HAA HAAA!"
"What about Nocturna? What have you done with her?" asked Robin, climbing to his feet.
"Surprisingly little, actually. I had great good fortune to see how you took care of her when she was injured, before you spirited her away in that balloon. From my odd little vantage point in Brainiac's ship, I was able to snatch her up and place her in a cabin until I was ready to take my leave. She's been most helpful, actually. Kept asking for her son, for Robin. How sweet. How touching." The disembodied voice paused. "How could I resist using her to lure you out here?"
"She was delirious. She's not my mother!" Robin felt a twinge in his heart as he spoke these words. While Natalia Knight was not his mother, in the months before she disappeared he had come to think of her much like a mother. He had not even resisted when she attempted to adopt him, though he now realized that the adoption would have meant the end of his career as Robin.
Robin's statement was ignored. A spotlight came on, a tight circle focused on the Boy Wonder. "Now, as to where you are. Quite simple. You are in Qurac. In my little compound. In my own private little television studio." The spotlight widened, and other lights started to come on. Looking around, Robin saw that he was, indeed, in a large television studio. Black-painted walls that reflected no light. Cameras mounted on rolling dollies. And along one wall, bleachers filled with strangely silent people, staring straight ahead. And right in the middle of them, one lone figure smiled at him, nodding happily.
Part 17
"That's right, Bird Boy! Your worst nightmare has come true! Your mother is here, right behind you! She's been my guest for months!" Robin twisted around, and spied Natalia Knight's still form lying on a cot. He did not see as the one person in the studio besides himself who was not in a trance leapt up and bounded over the still figures around him. "Oh, yes! We have been waiting for the right time to bring you to us, just waiting for you to finish running around with your new buddies in the Titans, waiting for old Bat-ears to jump into the baddy-busting business in Gotham again, just waiting, waiting, waiting!" His voice rose in pitch as he spoke, so that by the time he finished it was a shriek. Robin turned as a last jump brought the mysterious speaker into the widening circle of light, so that Robin's fears and suspicions were confirmed.
"Joker!" hissed Jason Todd under the hood of his costume.
"No, Robin, don't you read the papers? It's 'The Joker' these days. Just like it's 'The Batman'. Ever so much more imposing, don't you think?" The mad clown bent down, his face almost touching Robin's, his foul breath blasting the young man's senses. He didn't wait for an answer, but straightened up, brought one leg back, and unleashed a vicious kick to the Boy Wonder's chest. The boy was thrown back in his chains. "Of course, for you it's just, 'Robin'. 'The Robin' just doesn't have the same ring, does it. Of course, if you just add an adjective in there, it works fine. For instance, there's 'The Wounded Robin'. Or 'The Bleeding Robin'. And of course, there's my favorite: 'The Late Robin'!"
"Go to Hell, Joker!" said Robin, his voice low and menacing.
"Oh, I intend to, believe me, I intend to! But there are other things to do before I go! Plots to carry out, places to go, people to kill, games to play." The Joker glanced around, as if just remembering something. "Speaking of which, I suppose it's time to get started!"
"Started on what?"
"The reason we're here. To introduce my new gameshow, for exclusive world-wide broadcast." The Clown Prince of Crime signaled to some unseen person, and the stage lit up with multi-colored lights, a brightly-hued backdrop lowered into place, and loud music started to play. Together, Robin and the Joker watched as the light on one of the cameras started to glow red. At that point, the Joker stepped in front of it, a bigger-than-usual smile on his face, and mugged for the camera.
"Good day, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the first, and possibly only, episode of," he paused for one second, "Who Wants To Knock Off A Superhero's Mother!"
Part 18
In the skies of Qurac, an odd craft floated on the air currents. The ultralight plane, powered by a small electric motor, swept in wide arcs over the desert. The lone occupant, hanging under the craft's twenty foot wide wing structure, scanned the desert sands below with a high-power electronic viewfinder.
"There, over to the southwest. Looks like lights, and the infrared is picking up a couple of hotspots that may be generators," the Batman murmured to himself. "Looks like the only logical place for Jason to have set down, and this is just about at the edge of the loop the Batplane made over Quraci airspace." He made adjustments to the crafts controls, bringing it down toward the ground near the encampment, and tried hard not to think about the fact that his ward had already been on the ground for six hours.
Just before he landed, a voice cackled in his earphone.
"Sir, I understand you won't reply, but I feel you should know that there is a very strong broadcast signal originating near your position. It appears to be overriding television broadcast signals all over the world through a satellite distribution system. So far, it is simply static, but--" Alfred's voice halted for a couple of seconds. "Oh, dear, sir. It's the Joker. And he has Master Robin and Ms. Knight."
The Batman made no reply, to keep from revealing his location. The ultralight coasted down, landing clumsily in the sand. But it was already empty before it touched down, its occupant having leaped away while it was still twenty feet above the ground.
The Darknight Detective hit the ground in a tight ball, rolling to absorb the impact. He came up out of the ball in a dead run, heading for the nearest compound gate. His mind ran through possible scenarios and battle plans, trying to calculate how many people the compound could hold, and the odds of taking a large number of them out in a hurry. The grim look on his face was a mirror of the result.
Part 19
"That's right, folks! Tonight and tonight only, I am offering you all the chance to decide the fate of a hero's mother. At least, I think he's a hero. But even I'm not sure."
The Joker waved an arm toward Robin, who struggled against the shackles around his ankles. "This young man claims to be Robin. But I know Robin. I've fought Robin at close quarters many times over the years, and I can tell you, this is not the Robin that I know! He's shorter, younger, and, trust me folks, not nearly as experienced as he should be! Why, that's not even the right costume!
"But what does this have to do with a mother, you say? Why, plenty!" The Joker moved around Robin to a cot behind him. "Here we have one Natalia Knight! She has claimed, through her delirium, to be the mother of Robin. She's been asking for him for the last few weeks. And this," he gestured back toward the Boy Wonder, "is the one who came to rescue her."
The Joker turned again and walked to center stage to face the live camera. "Your job, people of the world, is this. You are the judge! Just call in to the toll-free number shown on your screen, and vote! Vote to kill the mother of this pretended to the name of Robin, or vote to save her. Your decision will be final! HAA HAA HAA HAAA! Yessirreeeee, it will be final, all right!"
The light went off on the camera, and the studio audience came to life. Two of them leapt down and started wheeling a large billboard-like display onto the stage area. Robin recognized it as a tote-board, similar to those used during elections. As soon as they plugged in the power and data lines, numbers started to appear: 287 for death, 158 to spare Natalia's life.
Gotta shake off the pain and focus! thought Robin, trying to ignore the grating feeling in his chest. He assessed his resources, which were notably slim. He still had the tiny flashlight that had been concealed in his boot heel. The other boot, he knew, contained two metal capsules, the contents of which could be mixed to create a powerful acid, but he also knew that as soon as he reached for it he was likely to receive another kick, or worse. His utility belt was gone, but he could feel hidden pockets on the gauntlets of his uniform; part of Alfred's new design; he did not know what, if anything, was in these pockets.
Standing shakily, Robin let his cape fall forward over his shoulders. He appeared to cross his arms, as if simply watching the activities around him. Under the edges of the cape, his hands were busy taking inventory. He found that the gloves were fairly well-stocked. At his disposal, he now had: two folded batarangs, a small coil of silken line that he estimated at about twenty feet with a small grappling hook, four small capsules that perhaps held smoke or sleeping gas, or perhaps flash grenades, a set of nose filters, and a set of lockpicks. The capsules, he thought, would have to wait until he could actually take a look at them to determine their type. In the meantime, he sunk to the floor. To anyone watching, it was obvious that the struggles of the day had exhausted him and he had passed out. However, under cover of the black and gold cape, he was busily picking the locks on his shackles.
Part 20
Outside of the makeshift television studio, Batman crouched in the shadows. Inside, he could hear the Joker's mad howls of laughter and shrieks of delight as the votes came in.
What sort of sick, demented people are responding to this? he asked himself. Which is the sicker mind? The one that sets up a hotline for death, or the one that calls in to vote for death? He shook his head as he worked on an electrical panel.
Moments later, the Dark Knight made his way through an overhead duct, snaking his way over the control room to the main studio floor. Below, he knew that he had about three minutes before the Joker started to get very upset about the results of his call-in poll.
In the studio, the Boy Wonder stirred on the floor.
"Ahhhh, I see the Daring Daredevil of the Diaper Set is back with us!" screamed the Joker. "So glad you could join us, Robin! As you can see, things aren't looking so good for Mommy Dearest. Such a shame, isn't it?" The Crazed Clown bent over, his face mere inches away from Jason's, a mock frown trying to bend the corners of his permanent grin downward. "Such a shame you can't do anything about it, isn't it? Hee hee heee haaa haaaa HAAAA HAAAAAAA"
All of a sudden, Robin's hands emerged from under the folds of his cape, and clapped together. The capsule in one palm suddenly burst from the impact. A cloud of smoke exploded forth, directed by the young boy's cupped hands directly into the Joker's face.
"Wha? ack! gag!" The Joker staggered back as Robin leapt to his feet and unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks against the Harlequin of Hate. One blow after another connected with the pale-skinned killer, driving him to his knees. "Somebody! Help me!"
A crowd started to close in around the combatants. Just as a few of them got close enough to strike, a section of the ceiling exploded above them! Plaster, fiberglass and shattered wood cascaded down, and within the mass a dark shape was visible. It never seemed to reach the ground, erupting in a series of martial arts moves that sent one foe after another crashing to the floor.
"Take him down, Robin! I've got your back!" The voice was calm, controlled, just loud enough to make itself heard. But to Robin, it was like a trumpet call, spurring him on to greater efforts as his fists drive into the Joker's face and chest until the dreaded clown was unconscious. Robin straightened up and looked around, surveying the studio.
"Need any help there, Batman?" he asked.
"Any you can lend, son," he replied, tossing a burly cameraman into a crowd of people rushing down from the audience.
Less than five minutes later, Batman and Robin were the only ones left standing in the studio. Robin looked up at the tote board. "Hey, looks like the Joker's plan fizzled anyway!" On the board, the number of callers favoring death stood at 375, those opposed has climbed to 892.
Part 21
The roar of a motorcycle echoed through the caverns, growing louder and louder, until at last a splash of light appeared in the largest open space in the cave complex. Photo-electric sensors triggered the ceiling lights and the exhaust system, which had shut down when no activity was detected in the caves over a twenty-four hour period. The lights revealed an array of complex equipment, rivaling the laboratories of the FBI and any premier scientific lab, in addition to a mind-boggling array of strange souvenirs. However, aside from the lights and fans, all of the other equipment was still.
The black motorcycle pulled up alongside a similar red one and stopped. Its rider disembarked, pulling a featureless black helmet from his head. The face underneath was young, yet careworn. The hair, jet black. He wore a scalloped mask that matched the blue, gray and gold uniform that he wore. He glanced around, a slight frown on his face.
"Access code: Haly. Maroni. Koriand'r," he said, in a loud voice. Immediately, he heard the sounds of dozens of computers and communication consoles coming to life. Screens flashed to life, and data from hundreds of sources started scrolling across them.
The dark-haired youth smiled.
Nightwing had come home.
"One heck of a homecoming! I'd think that, by now, Alfred would be on his way down the steps. Wonder where everyone is?" He pulled a small duffel bag from under the seat of his motorcycle and walked over to the dressing room to change. "Somehow, I doubt that Bruce has kept any of my street clothes here." He looked around, and found that there was, indeed, a couple pairs of jeans and chinos, along with shirts, underwear and socks, in a locker marked with a silhouette of his mask. He grinned, whistled an old circus tune, and started changing.
Part 22
"No, it isn't that I didn't think you could handle it yourself, I just wanted a little insurance." Bruce Wayne cocked his head to one side as he spoke, hoping that young Jason Todd would accept his precautions as just that, and not as a sign that he didn't have faith in his ward.
"I know, Bruce. But you know what really feels good?" asked the redheaded boy.
"Hmmm?"
"We didn't need it!" Jason smacked a fist into the palm of the other hand, wincing at the painful reminder of his all-out fight with the Joker. "Damn! If only we could haul that sorry clown back to Gotham with us!"
Bruce stood up, and walked over to a window overlooking the palace grounds. "I'd rather we didn't. The last thing I want is to be locked up in a plane with that murderous fiend. One slip, and all chaos would break loose up there," he said quietly, looking out the window. "Let the military transport him. They have the authority to ensure that he is completely sedated for the whole trip."
"It would appear, sir, that is not going to be an issue." Bruce turned to see Alfred Pennyworth entering the room. "Prince Fahid has just been in touch with Quraci officials. It would seem that they view your removal of the Joker from the bounds of their nation to Saudi Arabia as an act of aggression. They are demanding his return, lest they declare war." The Wayne family retainer stood with a look of distaste. "The Prince respectfully requests that we allow him to turn the Joker over to the Quraci consulate."
Bruce turned to Jason. "You put him down, son. Your call."
"There's no decision to make, is there?" Jason turned to Alfred. "Tell the Prince to let the Quraci's have him. With any luck, maybe the Joker will take it into his head to kill off their government."
Bruce clapped a hand down on the teen's shoulder. "As much as I regret it, I think you've made the right choice. We can capture people like the Joker, but it's up to the government to handle it after that. Otherwise, we run the risk of becoming just as bad as the villains he fight against."
"Very well, Master Jason. Oh, and sir? We have a visitor."
"Who is it, Alfred? Send him in."
"Not here, sir. I took the liberty of installing an upgrade to the Batcave security system. It called the satellite phone about an hour ago, with a message indicating that Master Dick had arrived. He has gone up into the Manor now," Alfred related with a smile on his face.
"Wonderful! Jason, let's get things gathered up. I'll have Natalia transported to the jet." He stopped to consider for a moment. "You know, you're the one who brought the Batplane all the way over here. You should be the one to fly it back," he said with a mock-serious look on his face.
"Yes sir! Whatever you say, sir!" replied Jason, snapping his hand up in a salute.
Part 23
They flew back in formation, the Batplane flying just above and behind the Wayne Enterprises corporate jet. Unknown to Robin, there was a control box in the Leer Jet that could be used to fly the Batplane by remote control, all the way back to Gotham if necessary. Bruce Wayne kept an eye on a flight display, for any sign of fatigue or sustained inattention on the part of his young ward, ready to take control of the modified Phantom jet if it became necessary.
He never once reached for the controls.
In the other plane, several emotions were tugging at Jason Todd for attention. On the one hand, he was thrilled at the trust the Batman had placed in him. On another hand, there was a nagging fear that the other shoe had yet to drop. After all, he had only worn the costume of Robin for a short time, and his impulsive trip halfway around the world could have been disastrous. On yet another hand, there was the relief at finding Natalia Knight alive, though this was tempered by concern for the woman who had yet to regain consciousness. Lastly, there was the anxiety of returning to Gotham, knowing that his predecessor, Dick Grayson, was awaiting their arrival at the Batcave.
"Why am I so worried about it?" he said to himself, somewhere over the Atlantic. "After all, we worked together pretty well in the Titans. Whenever we've met up, he's told me that he's proud of the job I'm doing as Robin."
The only answer forthcoming was from a small voice at the back of his mind, a voice which taunted, "Because Batman belongs with his first and only partner."
Meanwhile, on the Wayne Enterprises jet.
A voice came over the plane's intercom system. "Excuse me, Mr. Wayne. This is Pete Trannel, the pilot. We're going to be delayed a bit. There's something happening in Metropolis, and we've been advised to give it a wide berth."
"Superman must be having another face-off over the city," Bruce said to his faithful butler. "Let's see if there's anything about it on the radio or television." He picked up a remote and tuned to the Metropolis GBS affiliate.
"--continuing our live coverage of the aerial dogfight between Superman and an unidentified assailant. Witnesses so far have been unable to shed any light on the reason for the mysterious being's assault on the Man of Steel. We take you back to live coverage with Steve Lombard."
"Umm, thanks Clar -- uh, whoever. As you know, we first spotted this menace out at Metro Stadium. We've been following him into the city, as Superman has tried time and again to stop this gleaming, metal menace, with no luck. Now, wait, he's turning away from Superman and, oh my God! It's gone! The whole building, it's gone!"
Bruce and Alfred sit in stunned silence, as the GBS cameraman focused in on the smoking crater that, seconds before, was the Daily Planet Building.