Summary: Dinah's birthday surprise turns deadly.
Note: In response to Bludhaven's Birthday Challenge.
Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright.
Feedback is welcome!
Copyright May 2004
Looks to Die For
By Syl Francis
The lone shadow flitted through the night. It moved quickly, easily circumventing obstacles. The slim figure paused before a security fence, gauging its height. The next instant, it leaped straight up, and landed lightly on the narrow ledge that ran the length of the fence. Not bothering to check for security forces, the dark intruder dropped down into the well-patrolled grounds.
Before the shadow had managed to cross the well-manicured lawn it was set upon by the guards. The silence of the night was suddenly broken by the sounds of loud shouts and surprised yells. Grunts of pain mixed with the sharp reports of gunshots. Then as quickly as the noise started, it ended. Ignoring the piles of bodies lying strewn on the grass, the shadow picked up two handguns that had been dropped by the guards.
Taking full, measured strides now, the slight shadow entered the large mansion. Stepping into the dimly-lit study, the masked intruder's shapely silhouette identified her as a woman. With deliberate casualness, she chambered a round into each of the guns and without breaking stride walked into the family room.
Angry, no-nonsense voices shouted orders from all around her.
"Drop it, lady!"
"Now! Drop the gun, or I'll shoot!"
"Lady, don't be a fool! You don't have a chance--!"
Before the words' echoes had a chance to die out, she fired three killing shots in rapid succession. The bodyguards went down almost as one, each shot through the heart. The female assassin didn't glance at them. Instead, she held both guns aimed directly at the target--District Court Judge Byron Carson.
"No…please--!" Carson pleaded. "I-I have a daughter--"
The intruder fired. Carson stood still for a moment, his face registering his momentary confusion. Then with infinite slowness, he dropped to his knees and slowly fell back until he was lying face up. Eyes glazing over, he held his hand up in a weak gesture.
"Please...today's her birthday..." he whimpered. The woman stepped forward and then with cold calculation, shot him between the eyes.
Slowly, she removed her mask, revealing a beautiful young woman of no more than twenty. She stared at the sightless eyes for a long moment and then slowly raised the gun to her temple.
"Happy birthday to me, Daddy."
As the sirens wailed in the distance, a lone shot pierced the night.
"Happy birthday, Dinah!"
Dinah nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected intrusion. Her friends and family were all jumping out from under and behind the different pieces of furniture or closets. Roy and Lian were wisely standing with the dinette table between them and her. Roy knew how much she hated surprise birthday parties.
Dinah's lovely blue-green eyes shot heat missiles in his direction. Roy gave her a helpless shrug. Lian was squirming excitedly in his arms, clapping her hands and singing a sweet, off-key rendition of 'Happy Birthday.'
Giving Roy one final sour look, Dinah turned to Lian and giving her a dazzling smile, took the little girl in her arms.
"What a surprise, everybody!" she said with false good cheer. "And it's not even my birthday yet."
"But it will be in about another two hours," Barbara reminded her. She pointed at the Clock Tower. It was ten o'clock--two hours from midnight and her birthday.
"Oh...I don't know quite what to say." Dinah stood a bit awkwardly in the middle of the room. She was still in costume, which was a bit singed from the arms warehouse explosion. She'd barely managed to get out of it in one piece and had been looking forward to a long, hot soak.
"How about you promise to enjoy yourself and not break anyone's heads," Roy teased. "We all know how much you hate these, but--"
"But birthdays come only once a year," a deep voice growled. Dinah didn't exactly jump this time so much as give a slight shudder. Batman stepped out of the shadows that he'd somehow managed to hide himself in. "And even I have to put up with them."
"Coming from you, I'd say that's practically a testimonial." Dinah glanced over to where Nightwing was leaning casually against the kitchen doorway.
Even in her present state of mission exhaustion and the sudden shock of the surprise birthday party, Dinah had the presence of mind to notice that Nightwing and Barbara were positioned on opposite sides of the room.
Nevertheless, the mood in the room was light, and soon, her friends and family suddenly rushed forward, greeting her with warm laughter, hugs and kisses. Dinah couldn't stay mad, especially after she caught sight of the pile of wrapped gifts. She happily returned the smiles and hugged and kissed everyone in turn.
"Ollie's sorry he couldn't make it, Dinah," Roy said with an apologetic shrug. "He's somewhere in Tibet with Junior, holed up in some Tibetan monastery." Dinah placed her hand on his arm, and smiled in sympathetic understanding.
"It's okay, Red. Really."
Two of her old JSA buddies had also shown up--Alan Scott, the original Green Lantern, and Jay Garrick, the first man to wear the mantle of the Flash. Both were dear, old friends whom she'd known since she was a child. They had both loved and respected her mother, the original Black Canary, and (in private) she addressed them as Uncle Alan and Uncle Jay.
"Hey, Dinah!" Garrick shouted. "Remember the time your mom rounded up the Purple Gang all by herself?"
"Yeah, kid...and don't forget how she put Boss Williams behind bars," added Scott. "Now there was a Black Canary to be proud of!"
"Me'n Daddy are pwoud of Auntie Canawy. Aren't we, Daddy?" Lian hugged Dinah's neck as she spoke. Laughing Dinah gave her a quick twirl, and kissing her fervently on the cheek, released the giggling child who ran back into her father's waiting arms.
"We sure are, Baby," Roy said, nuzzling his daughter's cheek. Looking into Dinah's eyes, he repeated, "We sure are."
"And I'm proud to be her friend," Barbara said quietly. At that moment, the lights in the living area went completely out. The next instant, a small rolling table was pushed onto the middle of the room. A well-lit birthday cake sat, carefully centered on the table.
"Happy birthday, Dinah," Barbara said. "Many happy returns."
"Here! Here!" Garrick and Scott shouted together. "Speech! Speech!"
"Hey! Those are way too many candles," Dinah protested. "The fire marshal is gonna come close us down."
"It's twenty-nine candles exactly," Nightwing said.
"Twenty-nine?" Dinah asked. Then, a bit more placatingly added, "Oh, well that's okay then--"
"Batman tried to run a complete background check on you--" Nightwing began.
"He did what?" Dinah demanded, glaring at Batman. Batman shrugged and pointed at Alfred.
"The baker wanted an accurate candle count," he said. Alfred gave Dinah a stately, gentlemanly bow. Dinah blinked at the explanation.
"Oh."
Nightwing continued. "Yeah, but we couldn't, 'cause the Big Guy here found out that someone's done a great job of erasing your records. As far as the city of Gotham is concerned, Dinah Laurel Lance was never born here and doesn't even exist."
Dinah could only stare nonplussed at the news. The next moment, she turned and glared at Barbara. Her friend and colleague was busy looking everywhere but at her.
"Gee…I wonder who could've done such a thing."
Missing the sarcasm, Nightwing replied, "We're not sure, but as near as we can tell, it was someone professional." He shrugged. "So, sorry for the twenty-nine candles. That wasn't my idea, by the way. It was Roy's."
"Traitor," Roy muttered.
"Blow out the candles, Auntie Dinah!" Lian cried. The others jumped in eagerly. Smiling, Dinah walked up to the cake, and taking a deep breath, blew them all out on the first try. The crowd broke out in a cheer. More happy cries of 'Happy Birthday' and 'Many happy returns' echoed through the Clock Tower.
Scott and Garrick broke into a two-part harmony of "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow." Batman stepped out of his protective shadows long enough to take an extra-large offering of birthday cake.
Breaking away from Scott for a moment, Garrick came up to Dinah and kissed her lightly on cheek. "Your mom and dad would've been proud of you, honey," he said. "I know that I sure am."
"Thank you, Uncle Jay," Dinah said. "You know how much I appreciate you saying it."
"Hey! Stop hogging our little girl!" Scott interrupted. "Come on, Dinah! Let ol' Uncle Alan twirl you 'round the dance floor, just like old times. Hey, Maestro! Music, if you please!"
At the prearranged signal, Alfred pressed a button on the CD player and the soft, opening strains of The Blue Danube filled the room. The others stood back respectfully as Scott took Dinah by the hand and led her expertly through the waltz. As the lovely, lilting notes came to their close, Scott leaned in and spoke softly into Dinah's ear.
"You look more and more like your mother everyday, sweetheart. I know how proud she was of you and how much she loved you and your father." He gave her a fatherly kiss on the forehead. "Happy Birthday, Little Dinah. Many happy returns."
More hugs and kisses later, Dinah finally, blessedly closed the apartment door behind the last guest. Of course, only Alfred and Roy (who was carrying Lian) left by the front door. Most of her other well-wishers climbed out or flew out of the rooftop level Clock Tower window.
Barbara rolled her wheelchair into the living room. She held two steaming mugs of hot tea, one in each hand. Holding one out to Dinah, she gave her friend a look of inquiry. Grinning, Dinah accepted the peace offering.
"Traitor," Dinah said, her sparkling laugh belying any residual anger. "You know how much I hate surprise parties."
"Yeah, but you sure love getting presents," Barbara teased. She looked pointedly at the exquisite necklace that Batman had given her. The delicate chain was made of gold filigree, but what caught the eye was the magnificent black onyx pendant of a bird of prey.
Dinah gently fingered the pendant, her eyes softening. Before he'd left for his late night patrol, Batman had murmured in her ear, "Later." With that, he was gone.
"Yes..." Dinah said dreamily. "I love presents." Barbara snorted at her friend's obvious infatuation. Of course, Bruce could sweep just about any woman off her feet with a simple glance, but to think that he'd somehow managed to win over her independent, irreverent girlfriend still made her shake her head.
Smiling, Barbara wheeled over and opened the single drawer on an accent table. She pulled out a lavender envelop and wheeled back to Dinah. Without a word, she held it out to her.
Taking the envelop, Dinah read the feathery inscription. "'Looks to Die For.'" She gave Barbara a puzzled look. "What is it?"
"Open it, silly."
Shrugging, Dinah did as told. A single, lavender sheet of paper fell out. Picking it up, Dinah read,
"Dear Ms. Lance,
As a special birthday offer, Looks to Die For All-Day Spa is happy to welcome you for one full day in our luxurious facilities. Come enjoy a day of fun and relaxation with us. Our brand new tennis and racquetball courts are staffed by some of the best professionals in the nation. Our aerobics, yoga, and pilates classes are second to none. However, if rest and relaxation are more to your liking, Looks to Die For is proud of its heated whirlpools, saunas, and of course, our full service Tiki Bar.
Come and celebrate with us. We look forward to your arrival.
Cordially,
Elle DuBois, President and CEO"
Dinah looked up at Barbara, her eyes registering shock. "Barb! I can't accept this! It must've cost you a fortune."
"Don't be silly. You need a rest, and what better way than a day of pampering. Besides...you want to be all beautiful and glowing when you meet Bruce later, don't you?"
Dinah stared at her, not bothering to ask how she knew. She'd figured out long ago that the Bat-clan just had an uncanny radar for things that just weren't any of their business. Instead, she blushed at her friend's words. It would be nice to luxuriate in a heated whirlpool, she thought. Not to mention a long rub-down and a sauna afterwards.
Dinah thought of Bruce. She was supposed to meet him in his penthouse apartment tomorrow night for a quiet, birthday celebration. She looked at the clock. It was way past two in the morning, which meant that her date with Bruce was later tonight, not tomorrow night.
She shook her head and yawned. It was too late to worry about semantics. She had a date with Bruce and that was enough. Dinah gave Barbara a grateful smile, and leaning over gave her best friend a fierce hug. "Thanks, Barb. You're the best."
"What do you have?"
Long years of practice kept Gordon from jumping, but still, just once he wished that the Dark Knight would give him some kind of warning.
"Same MO as the previous six. The victim knew the killer--in this case, the killer was the victim's own daughter--and like previously, there was no rhyme or reason for the crime. Judge Carson was well respected by his colleagues; and until tonight, according to his household staff, he and his daughter Lauren shared a loving father-daughter relationship."
"After twenty-five years on the bench," Batman said quietly, "Carson could easily have made enemies, but that doesn't explain why his daughter murdered him." The next instant, he was gone.
Gordon let out a long, exasperated breath at the sudden exit. Then, softly added, "And I guess you won't rest until you find out why."
"Have you finished running a check on the names I gave you?"
Barbara's head shot up at the unexpected visitor. "Isn't it kind of late for you?" She nodded towards the breaking dawn. Batman ignored her, waiting for a reply to his question. Barbara sighed. "Yeah, yeah...I ran a check on them." She shrugged. "Nothing significant yet. The killers all knew their victims. They'd been friends, lovers, wives, and in the last case, daughter, of the victims. And until the day they murdered their victim and then killed themselves, the women all seemed to have led happy, normal lives. As you know, the victims were all prominent Gotham citizens who'd made plenty of enemies, but from all indications, none who'd want to see them dead."
"There has to be a link," Batman insisted.
"And we'll find it," Barbara said. "But it's almost six, Bruce, and I'm beat." She turned her wheelchair towards her bedroom. Over her shoulder, she said, "You look like you could some sleep, too. Whatever the link is, Bruce, it'll just to have wait a few more hours."
Her bedroom door closed with a determined click.
Dinah dressed quietly so as not to disturb Barbara. Since she'd broken her ankle a few months ago, Dinah had more or less moved in with her friend. She still maintained her own apartment, but it just seemed easier to sleepover at the Clock Tower, to be closer to the action.
She knew that Barbara had stayed up late working on a case with Batman and had only just gone to bed. The last thing Dinah wanted to do was rob her friend of what little sleep she allowed herself.
Carefully shutting the apartment door behind her, Dinah made sure that she'd locked it and then headed towards the building elevator. Stepping out into the bright, May morning, Dinah took a deep appreciative gulp of fresh air. It was just a few minutes past seven. Smiling, she walked unhurriedly to the public garage where she'd parked the car.
Waving at the attendant, she made her way up the ramp towards her parking place and moments later, roared out into the Gotham morning. Driving steadily, she was soon out of the city limits. She let the top down, and settled back to enjoy the quiet, wood-lined county road.
The sun was only midway up when she turned onto a winding, graveled road that led deep into the heavily forested Gotham foothills.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee wended its way into her consciousness. Barbara's eyes fluttered open, and she lay momentarily confused in the dim shadows of her room. Getting out of bed, she wheeled herself into her adjoining bathroom and minutes later emerged, feeling much more awake.
Making her way to the kitchen, she was stopped short when she saw him--Dick. She was about to speak, but he beat her to the punch.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Dick said lightly. "Before you go all ballistic on me, Bruce asked me to come." Giving her one of his heart-stopping smiles, he raised a single eyebrow. "How do you like your eggs?"
"Over medium," she said automatically.
"Scrambled it is," Dick said easily. Whistling off-key, he cracked several eggs and then whipped them to a froth. Shrugging, Barbara set the breakfast table and watched him work. She felt her throat constrict and for a few panicked seconds thought that she might start to cry. She quickly looked away. It wouldn't do to cry. After all, she was the one who'd broken up with him, not vice versa.
A few minutes later, Dick called out, "Come and get it!" Barbara's mouth watered when she saw that in addition to scrambled eggs and bacon, Dick had also whipped up a tall stack of buttery pancakes. Plates full, they each took a seat at the table and ate for several minutes without talking.
Giving his plate a final swipe with the last remaining bite of pancake, Dick shoved it inelegantly into his mouth and swallowing let out a long, contented sigh. "Now that's what I call a breakfast, if I do say so myself."
Barbara smiled. "Thank you, Dick. I guess I was hungrier than I thought." As she spoke, she waved at her empty plate."
"My pleasure." Dick gave her one of his easy smiles. After a moment, he looked away, a sudden awkward silence falling between them. Abruptly, he got up and started clearing the table.
"Oh, but Dick! You cooked...I'll do that--"
"Don't be silly, Babs," Dick replied, waving her off. "I'm already up. Just sit back and relax."
Sighing, Barbara did as ordered. Finally, curiosity won the best of her, and she asked, "Why are you here, Dick? You said Bruce sent you?"
Dick finished stacking the plates and glasses in the dishwasher, gave the gleaming countertops one last wipe, and finally turned to her. He nodded at her question. "Yeah. Apparently, a couple of homicide cases I'm working on in Bludhaven have pretty much the same MO as a case you're working on." He paused. "Murder/suicide. Victim knew the perp. Killer was wife or girlfriend of victim. No apparent motive."
Dinah looked around, excitedly taking in the luxurious surroundings. She hurried to the glass doors and threw them open, stepping out into the balcony. She inhaled deeply, taking in the soft scent of pine and fragrant perfume of lilac flowers.
"I hope you enjoy your stay with us, Ms. Lance."
Dinah whirled at the sound of the voice behind her. A pretty young woman in the casual 'uniform'--shorts and cropped blouse--of the spa's bellhops smiled at her. "Oh, I know I will," Dinah said. "This place is just fantastic. I only wish that I could stay longer than just one day."
The bellhop smiled knowingly. "Don't worry, Ms. Lance. Our customers have reassured us that one day at Looks to Die For is the equivalent of a two week vacation on the Caribbean."
"I'll hold you to that," Dinah said with a laugh.
Smiling, the young woman opened the door to what looked like a storage closet. In it there were piles and piles of lavender terrycloth towels.
"As you can see, you should have plenty of towels here for use through the day. If you need more, just ring house keeping and we'll gladly restock your linen closet." She pointed at a robe in the same lavender terrycloth on a hanger. "For your added convenience--you'll find a robe, slippers, and even a bathing suit in your size." Smiling, she added, "Please, if you need anything, just give us ring, and we'll be happy to be of service."
"Thank you," Dinah said, giving the young woman a generous tip. She saw her to the door.
About to step out, the girl suddenly stopped. "Oh, I almost forgot. Your first appointment is in 30 minutes--whirlpool, sauna, and massage...with Armand." At these last words, she gave Dinah a wicked smile and walked out.
Dinah's eyebrows shot up. "Armand, huh?" Then smiling added, "Eat your heart out, Huntress."
"Anything so far?" Bruce's handsome features gazed out at them from their monitors. He was dressed for work--as Bruce Wayne, not Batman.
"We've tracked Judge Carson's cases back a few years," Dick reported. "We think we may have something, but we have to check it out first."
"What sort of 'something'?"
"Well, interestingly enough, the good judge presided on a case--let's see...Taylor vs. Lavender, Inc.--"
"Taylor?" Bruce pounced on the name. "One of the victims was named Taylor. Robert Taylor, I believe."
"Go to the head of the class," Dick quipped. "Babs is running a check even as we speak."
"Bingo!" Barbara said. "Fifteen years ago, Robert Taylor sued Lavender, Inc., a psychiatric out-patient clinic, for malpractice. Basically, Taylor claimed that Lavender, Inc. was staffed with little more than quacks and charlatans, and that since his wife had become their patient, she'd exhibited signs of increased psychosis." She paused and read further. A few seconds later, she continued:
"In his suit, Taylor claimed that the so-called 'doctors' used some kind of hypnotherapy in combination with a powerful hallucinogenic drug that resulted in his wife's mental breakdown and eventual hospitalization. Carson found for the plaintive, and Lavender, Inc. closed its doors."
"What happened to Taylor's wife?" Bruce asked.
"Beatrice Taylor never recovered from the 'treatment' she suffered at the hands of Lavender, Inc.," Barbara said. "She was committed to Sunny Acres in upper Gotham State and died almost ten years ago."
Dick shook his head in sympathy. "Damn," he whispered. "Wasn't Taylor killed almost six months ago by his live-in girlfriend...um, Janice Green?"
"Yes," Barbara replied. "It could all be a coincidence," she said. "I mean, fifteen years is an awful long time to carry a grudge."
"What are the dates of the trial?" Bruce asked. Seeing where he was going with the idea, Barbara immediately brought up the data. And just as suddenly let out a deflated breath. She shook her head.
"It was great idea, Boss," she said. "But no cigar. There's no connection in the dates."
"Back to square one?" Dick asked.
"Not necessarily," Bruce said thoughtfully. "We have one link between two of the victims--Lavender, Inc. Do you have anything else?"
Barbara shrugged. "Just that the hallucinogen used gave off the soft scent of lavender lilacs, hence the name of the clinics."
"Lilacs...?" Bruce said thoughtfully. "I don't know of any extraction from those plants that can cause psychotic episodes."
"Could've just been an additive to place the victim in a more suggestive state of mind," Dick offered. "You know...to relax them." Bruce nodded.
"Could be..." He turned his dark gaze on them and surprised them both when his eyes softened into a brief smile. "Good work, you two. Why don't you run further checks on the company: employees, CEO, financial records...whatever you can dig up?"
Barbara nodded. "We're already on it, Bruce. Will you be in your office the rest of the day?"
Bruce nodded and signed off.
Dinah luxuriated underneath the skillful hands of Armand, the masseuse. She'd lain in the soothing waters of the heated whirlpool for fifteen minutes, and then relaxed in the sauna to the point of sleep. Now, she lay on her stomach, enjoying Armand's expert touch.
"Would Mademoiselle care to lie there for a few more minutes?" he asked.
"Mademoiselle would," Dinah mumbled, nodding awkwardly. The scent of lavender lilacs permeated the room, making her eyelids heavy. Must be from the rubbing oil Armand used, she thought.
"I will make sure that you are not disturbed," Armand said quietly. Dinah felt more than heard him leave. She was oddly disappointed that their session was over; it had been a long time since she had felt such a total sense of relaxation. Without even being aware of it, Dinah fell into a deep, restful sleep...
"Babs, I think I might have something here," Dick said.
"What?" Barbara wheeled herself over to where he was staring intently at his own screen. Dick pushed himself away from the monitor. When he did, he accidentally brushed against Barbara. Instantly, he experienced the same old feeling of electricity pass between them. Somehow he was able to suppress the sudden urge to pick her up and carry her to bed. Instead, he managed to take tight rein of his urgent desire and showed her his findings.
"I don't know if this means anything, Babs, but on at least four occasions, the victim was murdered on the killer's birthday. I ran a check on the others. Each of the perps had recently celebrated a birthday--say within just a few days."
Babs sat back on her wheelchair. "That's certainly odd," she said with a shake of her head. "Their birthdays don't fall on the same dates...nor, do they seem to be anniversaries or hold any kind of special significance." Her eyes took on a familiar, faraway look. She spoke, lost in thought. "I'm not sure what you've found, Dick. But I think it's important." At long last her eyes focused on his. Before either could stop him or herself, they kissed.
Dinah dreamed. Scenes of her childhood played themselves out, a flickering home movie reel of happier times. Her father coming home from work, picking her up and tossing her in the air. Her mother in her Black Canary costume smiling down at her from the great height of her spiked heels.
The dreams took a sudden downturn. She felt tears course down her cheeks as she crouched behind her bedroom door, listening to the raised voices. Mommy and Daddy were fighting again. Shouting angry words. Words she didn't understand.
"Alan's a friend and colleague, nothing else," Mommy shouted.
"Oh, yeah? Then explain this!"
"What is it? Where did you get this?"
"I'm a private investigator, remember? I took the Polaroid's myself. You and Alan Scott have been having an affair, haven't you? Never mind...I think I have the proof right here."
"You don't understand, Larry. Alan and I were only pretending. We've been working a case together--"
"Look me in the eyes when you say it, then. Come on, Dinah...if it was all perfectly innocent, why can't you look me in the eye when you say it?"
She could hear Mommy sobbing softly.
"You never were a very good liar, Dinah."
Little Dinah heard the front door slam. And then the house whispered with her mother's sobs coming from her parents' bedroom. Little Dinah risked a peak outside her room and saw a pile of photographs strewn across the floor. Afraid of what she'd see, Dinah stooped down and picked one up. As she did, her own tears began to fall.
Pictures of Mommy and Uncle Alan kissing and laughing and hugging each other looked up at her. As she stared at the photos, an unfamiliar feeling of blackness began to burn inside her. She glared at the photos and zeroed in on Uncle Alan. Without hesitation, little Dinah took a big kitchen knife and began to methodically 'x' out Uncle Alan's face.
"I hate you," she whispered. "I hate you. I'll kill you. I'll kill you for taking Mommy away from us, away from Daddy and me..."
"That's it Dinah...feel the hatred, feel the blackness burning, swelling inside you. It must be satiated, Dinah. There's only one way, Dinah...only one way to avenge the wrong done to you and your father. What is it, Dinah? What is that you must do?"
Dinah stood, eyes glazed, staring unseeing into the dizzying, multi-colored lights that spun crazily around her. The room seemed to be tilting on its axis one second then turning counterclockwise the next.
But all Dinah saw was Alan Scott's laughing face as he fondled her mother obscenely, tearing off her costume and throwing her on the bed. Dinah tried to turn away, to close her eyes, but she couldn't block the image. Worse, Dinah couldn't shut her mother's quiet sobs from resounding in her head.
"Please, stop it!" she cried. "Uncle Alan...please, leave her alone. You're hurting her!"
In her head, her father's relentless voice urged, "Take the gun, Dinah. Shoot him! Kill him! He deserves it, Dinah. He deserves it for what he did to you, for what he did to me, your father--and especially for what he did to your mother. Listen, Dinah, listen..."
Her mother's brokenhearted sobs reverberated in the room, a cacophony of broken, anguished cries.
"No!" Dinah cried. She covered her ears. "Stop it! Stop it!"
"The gun, Dinah!" Her father's voice insisted. "It's the only way to stop him. He made your mother cry, Dinah. He hurt her. You can't let him hurt anyone else, Dinah. Alan Scott deserves to be shot down like a dog!"
Unseeing, Dinah reached for the gun that was suddenly lying on a table next to her, and without hesitation, fired at the falsely heroic image of Alan Scott...
The elegantly coifed woman looked up with open admiration at the tall, bearded man in a white lab coat, standing next to her. They watched Dinah from behind the relative safety of a bulletproof two-way mirror. The dark control room they occupied held a strange assortment of electronic equipment.
"Bravo, Dr. Strange...your brilliant cerebral cortex machine has garnered you your first super-hero."
Dr. Hugo Strange gave her an enigmatic smile. His bottle-thick glasses reflected the overhead lights, seemingly washing out his eyes. He lovingly ran a hand over his newest invention.
"This, my dear Lavender, will be the greatest asset in my specialized fields of psychoanalytical torture and brainwashing." He sighed in satisfaction. "Our experiments over the past few months have proven beyond my wildest expectations that my machine is capable of replicating the brainwave activity in a subject's cerebral cortex and projecting the ensuing visual images onto an ultra high definition viewing screen."
"Brilliant, Doctor!" The woman smiled. "Once the cerebral cortex machine records your subject's deeply buried memories, you can manipulate and change them to your will."
"Yes," Strange said. "Once recorded, I can then change the memories and feed them directly back into the subject's cerebral cortex, thus making the victim malleable for brainwashing and to carry out my bidding."
Strange again turned to his machine, making adjustments to the complicated instrumentation. He worked without speaking, concentrating on the delicate fine tuning necessary to control Dinah's memories. As he worked, his excitement increased.
This was the part that Strange loved, the ability to live vicariously through the subconscious minds of his victims. The dark, swirling images that generally lay safely tucked away in the hidden recesses of the Id were laid bare to his every whim, and he eagerly played with them, changing them, even implanting false memories.
He smiled suddenly, false memories such as the ones that turned Judge Carter, a loving father, into a monster who sexually abused his daughter. False memories that succeeded in turning a vibrant, young woman into a mindless, cold-blooded assassin.
So far, he had been happy with the results that his initial test subjects had shown. Wives, friends, and lovers had cold-bloodedly killed a loved one without flinching, then killed themselves in turn. Most of the test subjects had been previous spa visitors that he had had a chance to observe at least twice. They were generally society matrons looking for a way to stem the aging process.
Once the selection process had been made, Strange had Lavender send out a free, all-expenses paid, one-day spa 'birthday' packages to his intended victims. With each success, Strange grew bolder, and his scheme culminated in the Carson murder/suicide (a sweet act of revenge for Judge Carson's ruling against Lavender, Inc. all those years ago).
However, the day Dinah Laurel Lance unexpectedly walked into Looks to Die For, her spa visit a birthday gift from a friend, Strange knew that he was just about to achieve the high point of his career.
Strange looked down at his assistant. "My dear, Lavender, this is indeed a triumph; however, our Ms. Lance shall not be allowed to commit suicide after this first outing. I believe that this lovely creature, who does indeed have 'looks to die for,' will prove much too valuable an asset to allow her to kill herself too soon."
Lavender looked up him with glowing eyes. A feral smile on his face, Strange handed Lavender a black and blue bundle. "Put these on," he ordered. As she changed into the unfamiliar clothes, she saw him take a bright green, red and yellow costume from a hidden cabinet.
Moments later, the Golden Age Green Lantern and Black Canary stepped into the 'situation room' and crossed over to where Dinah stood in a drug-induced, posthypnotic stupor, the gun still in her hand. Strange, dressed as Green Lantern, leaned in close and whispered in her ear. However, the words that echoed in her head were in her father's voice.
"Now watch, little Dinah. Watch Uncle Alan do bad things to your mommy. You know what to do, little Dinah. Be a good little girl, and do what Daddy tells you to do."
Grinning evilly, Strange took his all-too willing assistant, who was dressed as Black Canary, in his arms, and they played out the lurid scene they'd just witnessed between Alan Scott and Dinah's mother.
To his sick amusement and heightened arousal, Dinah took aim and relentlessly fired the now-empty gun over and over at him.
Barbara stared tiredly into the monitor. She squeezed her eyes shut. She'd run the same search pattern several times now, each time with just a slightly different parameter thrown in. This time, she'd asked the computer to add location to the search criteria. As she waited for the results, she thought about the kiss that she and Dick had shared.
It had seemed so right, of course. But, no...it was all wrong. She'd broken up with him and their relationship was now over. They both had to move on. As much as she loved him, she knew that they would never be able to make things work between them. He loved danger too much and foolishly took too many chances. She just couldn't live with that any longer, with the not knowing if the next call she received would be the last one.
No, better to break it off neatly and cleanly. Each going his own way, neither forcing his own will on the other.
But since breaking up was your idea, Barbara's conscience cut in, isn't that a form of forcing your will on Dick? You don't like to see him endangered, so you gave him an ultimatum: Either change your ways, or we're splitsville! My, my, my...that's so fair and democratic on your part, isn't it? I thought Bruce was the control freak. Looks to me like you suffer from just a bit too much hubris for your own good, Barbara Gordon--!
The computer sudden warning beeps interrupted her silent musings. It had found something. Barbara glanced blearily at the clock--almost nine p.m. The sound startled Dick, who'd been lightly snoozing, his chair precariously leaning on its two back legs. The unexpected beeping caused him to uncharacteristically lose his balance, which resulted in his flying backwards, head over heels.
At the resounding crash, Barbara gave him a stern look. "Let that be a lesson to you."
"Yes, Alfred," Dick replied with feigned meekness.
"Well, how many times have I heard Alfred warn you not to do exactly what you were--" She stopped. There you go again, her inner voice chastised. Nag, nag, nag. Enough already!
However, before she could say anything further, the beeping became even more insistent.
"What've we got?" Dick asked. All business, Barbara got back to work.
"What've you got?" Batman's grim visage looked down from the giant monitor.
"Looks to Die For," Barbara replied. At Batman's questioning look, she explained. "It's a day spa located a few miles outside of Gotham. All the perpetrators had recently visited the spa...apparently on or near their birthdays."
"I'm on it." Batman reached over to cut communications, but he was stopped by Barbara's urgent voice.
"No, wait!" Barbara said. "There's something else."
"What?"
"Dinah."
"Dinah? What about her?"
"I gave Dinah a special birthday package to the spa," Barbara said. "Bruce, she's been gone all day, and--"
"And what?" If such a thing were possible, Batman's expression had grown even more dangerous.
"We've been trying to raise her, but she's not responding--"
"I'm on my way." The monitor went blank.
"I'll be going, too." Barbara spun around. Dick adjusted his mask, which immediately transformed him into Nightwing. He now stood half-in/half-out of the shadows, as if uncertain about how his words would be received. "My work here's done. He needs me." He turned to go.
"Dick--?" Barbara's voice stopped him. "Dick...we can't end it like this."
He spoke without turning. "I know...we'll talk later."
The Batmobile roared in the night, its powerful headlights piercing the inky blackness of the tree-lined back roads located in the Gotham foothills. Following not far behind, the single headlight of a fast-moving motorcycle announced Nightwing's comforting presence.
Smiling slightly, Batman opened communications. "Thanks for the support, partner."
"You know me, Batman. Always watching your back."
She drove automatically, her moves instinctive. She didn't see the road before her and didn't know her destination. She only knew that something compelled her to drive. She bypassed the Gotham City limits and instead stayed to the back roads, heading towards Metropolis.
"Metropolis...?" she wondered.
The two shadows moved in easy concert borne of long practice. The spa's main building had long since closed for the night. Pausing briefly, they checked their tracking equipment, then giving each other a thumbs up, the two heroes separated.
Nightwing quickly found the servant's entrance and took out a specialized pen filled with a highly corrosive acid. Working quickly, he sprayed the acid onto the locking mechanism. As he worked, he heard a soft pffft break the night's stillness. Without having to look, he knew that Batman had just shot a grappler and would be on the roof in seconds.
Batman would approach from the roof, Nightwing from the ground. The next instant, he was inside and crossing the main lobby. He adjusted his Starlite lenses to the additional gloom indoors and soon maneuvered his way to the workout areas.
He passed racquetball courts, a full court gym, a whirlpool and sauna. All empty. He wondered if Batman was having any better luck with the upper floors.
"Any luck?" Batman's tone let Nightwing know that his mentor hadn't found anything, either.
"Not yet," Nightwing answered. "Although, I have to admit...this place does show some truth in advertising."
"What?"
"These are some of the best racquetball courts I've ever seen," Nightwing explained easily. He smiled at the pointed silence from the other end. He moved silently through the darkened rooms, checking each for anything unusual. He entered one that held a single slab in the center, probably used for massages, and stopped. Eyes narrowing, Nightwing sniffed cautiously. Immediately, he donned a gas mask and took a test kit.
"Batman, I may have something--" An unexpected stinging sensation from the back of his neck was his only warning as the world suddenly went black.
"What do you have?" Batman was inspecting one of the upper guest rooms. His pencil-thin light beam reflected off something on the floor. He bent and picked up the delicate object. His blood ran cold. It was the same bird of prey pendant necklace he'd given Dinah for her birthday.
At the same moment, he realized that Nightwing hadn't yet responded. "Nightwing, what do you have?" Silence. Heart pounding, Batman moved out.
She drove steadily through the night, not so fast as to attract attention from state troopers, not so slow as to arrive too late. But too late for what? Her mind was fog. She knew that she had to do something, but what? In the distance, the twinkling lights of the City of Tomorrow gleamed in warm welcome. Strangely, she felt a sudden chill of foreboding at the sight.
Batman had briefly glanced through all of the lower exercise rooms. His Starlite lenses had instantly detected the ultra-violet tag that Nightwing had used to mark each of the rooms that he'd already inspected and marked as 'clean.' The tags were invisible to the human eye, but could be seen with their specialized night vision lenses. Therefore, when he spotted the open door to the massage parlor, he paused. Giving the inside a cursory check, he saw that it didn't have one of Nightwing's tags.
The open door told Batman that Nightwing had been in here, but the lack of a UV-tag told him that his former partner had not cleared it. Entering cautiously, Batman immediately detected the slight scent of lavender lilacs. Quickly masking, he took out a palm-sized tracking device. Scanning the room, he found Nightwing's unmistakable electronic trail.
The trail led to what looked like a solid wall. Not bothering to inspect it, Batman took out a handful of pellets and tossed them at the wall. He turned and ducked under his protective cape as the pellets exploded with a resounding force.
"So much for stealth."
As she entered the Metropolis city limits, she slowed the car to the posted speed limit of 35 mph. She came to red light and stopped. The car next to hers was filled with several young men who had obviously been partying all night. The made several wolf calls waving half-filled beer bottles invitingly at her.
"Hey, baby! Come on and join us!"
"Yeah, babe! We got plenty of room!"
"Come on and give us a lap dance!"
She put the car in gear when the light changed and proceeded across the intersection. However, her new fan club decided to follow. The other driver, drunk from his all night partying, paced her, weaving dangerously close at times. The drunken passengers hung out of the windows, making passes as if to grab her.
She drove on, taking no notice of the obscene gestures and attempts to catch her attention. When they came to the next light, she stopped accordingly. The men in the other car took the opportunity to jump out and surround her.
"Come on, baby! We're gonna have us a little fun!" They grabbed her through the open top and pulled her out of the car. Up to that point, she had continued to stare blankly ahead, seemingly ignoring them. Now, her ingrained sense of self-defense kicked in.
Dinah suddenly exploded with a cold, calculating fury. These intruders were keeping her from her assigned mission. She had to make short work of them in order to continue her mission. Her outward expression never changing, Dinah kicked back and up, connecting with someone's temple. At the same time, she chopped out with her left, striking another in the Adam's apple.
Soon, she was standing over a pile of seemingly lifeless bodies, staring blankly ahead. Disregarding the unconscious men, Dinah stepped over them and returned to the car. She dutifully waited for the light to change. As soon as it did, she continued on her mission.
She blinked momentarily. What mission? The moment of lucidity passed and she was soon staring straight ahead once more, weaving her way through the endless Metropolis night.
Batman heard the heart-wrenching scream.
"No-ooo-oo-o...!"
He ran towards the sound, kicking down a door that stood between him and his son. Nightwing was crouched in the middle of the floor. His hands covered his face, his body wracked in grief. The room was lit in a strange, strobe-like effect. On the wall directly in front of Nightwing stood a giant screen.
The scene being played before him was that of the Flying Graysons' tragic fall to their deaths.
"Mom! Dad! No-ooo-oo-o!"
"Nightwing!" Batman called. He spotted what looked like a two-way mirror, and without hesitation, threw a quick succession of batarangs straight at it. The defensive weapon crashed through the mirror, revealing two shadowy figures behind it.
A woman screamed.
"Doctor! We must leave!"
"Never! The Dark Knight's squire is an even greater trophy than the Black Canary!" Batman's eyes narrowed as he caught faint glimpses of Black Canary and the Golden Age Green Lantern in a series of sordid poses. When the Black Canary on the screen removed a blonde wig, revealing a raven haired brunette, he realized that she was actually supposed to be the original Black Canary, Dinah's mother.
All of this flashed before Batman in an instant. Meanwhile, Nightwing continued to sob uncontrollably at the repeated sight of his parents' fall. "Mom! Dad! It's all my fault...please, stop. Please..."
Batman leaped through the opening into the control room hidden behind it. Landing in a shoulder roll, Batman came up quickly. He ignored the fleeing woman, recognizing the bespectacled man as the true danger.
"Dr. Hugo Strange."
Strange turned and gave him a look of triumph. "Yes! I see you remember me, Batman. I am deeply touched. Parting was such sweet sorrow."
"Yes, sorrow for all those people whose minds you manipulated. I might have known you were the mastermind behind all of this."
"Of course. Behold my greatest achievement," Strange said immodestly. He waved with casual pride at his machine. "With just a few short sessions, I can turn even the most loving and loyal son into a mindless, cold, calculating killer." With those words, he waved at the Nightwing still struggling with his painful childhood memories. "Observe how the real killer Tony Zucco is now replaced with billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne."
Despite himself, Batman watched fascinated as Zucco was substituted with himself. Instead of Zucco going up to Haly and threatening him, it was Bruce. However, when Haly slammed the door on him, instead of Bruce leaving the circus grounds, he'd gone over to the Graysons' trailer and accosted Mary Grayson.
"Mary, you know that if you don't give me what I want, I can have this circus closed down with just a phone call. I've told you before..." He grabbed her, and laughed at her struggles. "I'm a powerful man in this town. I can take whatever I want, Mary. And I want you." With that, Bruce dragged her into the back bedroom and ignoring her screams proceeded to--
The screen went blank.
"What happened?" Strange asked desperately. "No! Get it back! Lavender! I need you! Where is she?" As he spoke, Strange ran from one instrument panel to another. "NO! It can't stop now! Not now!" He glared at Batman. "You! You did it! What did you do? Tell me! Tell me or I'll--" He pulled out a gun. A black object struck his wrist, numbing his fingers.
"No, you can't stop me. I'll--"
"I can stop you." Batman tossed a handful of pellets around the room. Within seconds the place began exploding in a series of small, powerful blasts. Strange let out a strangled cry and turned towards his cerebral cortex machine. Standing next to it, Batman calmly slapped a small piece of plastique onto the vile machine.
"No! My work! You can't--! You mustn't--!"
"Oh, but I insist." With that, Batman stepped aside and took out a detonating device. Not bothering to look over his shoulder at the results, he pressed the detonator as he walked away. Strange collapsed on his knees, his body wracked in helpless sobs, his life's work destroyed. The contents of the control room continued to explode around them, and soon the room began collapsing.
"Strange! We have to evacuate the building! Let's go!" Not checking to see if Strange was following him, Batman hurried from the control room to the adjoining situation room where Nightwing lay curled in a fetal position in the middle of the floor. Picking him up gently, Batman stood and once again called for Strange to follow him.
"Strange! Get out now!" Batman called. "Don't be a fool! The building's about to go!"
Screaming, Strange ran towards his machine in one final, useless attempt to salvage what he'd spent a lifetime perfecting. Ceiling beams fell all around him and before long the room was engulfed in flames.
"Strange!" Batman took a step towards the control room, but looking down at his son, still unconscious in his arms, he reached a decision. Not allowing himself to look back, Batman hurriedly got them both safely out of the building.
"I need your help."
"...!?" The silence from the other end spoke volumes. Finally, the quiet, gentle voice answered. "Of course, Bruce. How can I help?" Clark listened intently as Bruce explained. "I'm on my way." Hanging up, Clark Kent leaned over and kissed his still sleeping wife and the next instant stood outside on their balcony. With long-practiced ease, Superman flew up into the moonless night.
"How is he?" Barbara asked worriedly.
"He's sleeping." With long-practiced ease, Batman piloted the Batwing across the inky moonless night. He glanced across at the co-pilot's seat where he'd strapped Nightwing. Once he had gotten them both safely out, Batman had made two calls. The first was to the Batcave to activate the Batwing. The second call was to the Kent residence.
He had asked Superman to scan Metropolis for any sign of Dinah. All of her tracking devices had been removed before Strange had set her off on her murderous mission--to assassinate Alan Scott. Next, he had Barbara try to locate Scott to warn him.
"Should I alert the JLA and the JSA?" she asked.
"Only as a last resort." Batman didn't tell Barbara about the images he'd seen in the monitors in the control room. But they'd been depraved enough to make him sick to his stomach. If that was how Hugo Strange brainwashed his victims in order to get them to do his bidding, then for the moment, the less people who knew why Dinah was after Alan Scott, the better.
"I've spotted her." Superman spoke softly as he usually did. Someone with the power to move mountains didn't have to raise his voice. "What do you want me to do?"
"Follow her." The line went dead. Superman shook his head in annoyance.
"Aye-aye, sir." He smiled in tolerant affection.
"We've contacted Green Lantern," Batman's voice suddenly said. "He's ready."
"Do you want me to--?"
"No interference!" Batman interrupted. "We have to let this thing play itself out."
"Very well."
A stirring next to him, told him that Nightwing was finally waking up. Batman placed the Batwing on automatic pilot and turned towards his son. He reached across the cramped space and with gentle fingers combed back Nightwing's forelock.
"Uh...uh..." Nightwing groaned softly as he regained consciousness. Eyes fluttering open, he blinked in confusion. "Did you get the license plate of that truck?"
"Of course. I'm Batman."
Nightwing grinned. "Then how about stopping whoever's playing the drums on my head?"
"Sorry...I'm no music critic."
Nightwing turned to Batman. "Bruce...what I saw." He stopped. "You and my mom...I know it wasn't real." He closed his eyes and turned away. "But--" He stopped and swallowed several times. Finally, he opened them again and faced his adopted father and mentor once more. "But they were so real. And I can't get them out of my head." A single tear fell, unbidden. "I'm so sorry, Bruce. I tried to fight him, but he still managed to get that garbage in my head."
Batman pulled his son towards him and held him for a long moment. "I know, son. I know." He didn't say anything for a several seconds. "Dick, I'll do everything in my power to help you. I promise." Nightwing nodded. At last, he pulled away and sat up straight.
"Thanks for the support, partner," he said.
"You know me, Nightwing. Always watching your back."
Scott's apartment door crashed open.
Shaking his head, Scott spoke briefly. "She's here."
"How does she--?" Oracle began, but Scott cut her off. He didn't have time to talk to Batman's operative. He had a family member in trouble. He waited, his heart pounding, for Black Canary to appear. He didn't wait long.
Black Canary's silhouette suddenly appeared underneath the broken doorway. Scott didn't do or say anything. This was Dinah's play. He had to let her make the first move. Black Canary walked in. She crossed the living room and headed towards the master bedroom. Scott sat on the living room couch which was in deep shadow. He remembered too late that he'd left his bedroom door closed.
At the resounding crash, he shook his head. "There goes another one," he muttered. The next instant, he clasped his hands to his ears. Black Canary's hypersonic cry had abruptly filled the apartment. Within seconds, everything made of glass began to vibrate--the Scott family crystal, the ceiling chandelier, windows, glass cases--everything--and suddenly shattered! It was a scream of rage, Scott knew. Rage that she hadn't found him.
Gathering his wits about him, Scott willed his power ring to surround him in its protective aura. Next, he willed 'on' his Green Lantern costume. If he was to face her, he might as well do it as the man she erroneously believed had seduced her mother.
Scott remembered the Polaroid's of himself and the original Black Canary that Larry Lance, her husband, had taken. He remembered the accusations. But he also knew the truth behind the photos. He and Dinah had been working undercover for a week, trying to break a nation-wide murder-for-hire ring. When Dinah came to him, crying, showing him the photos, Scott had flown immediately to Gotham City to Larry's agency.
There, Scott had confronted his angry and jealous friend. He'd refused to leave until he'd finally convinced Larry that he and Dinah had not betrayed him. Further, he'd made sure that Larry knew how much he'd hurt Dinah with his accusations. The incident was eventually put behind them all, and 'Uncle Alan' was again welcome in the Lance household.
And then she stood before him. He was taken momentarily aback. Straightening his shoulders, he spoke soothingly.
"You look so much like your mother, little Dinah. How proud your mom and dad would have been of you."
"You stole her from us," Dinah said. "Daddy and I trusted you, but you betrayed us."
How will I reach her? He wondered. Though hurried, Oracle's report had nevertheless been thorough. Dinah had been brainwashed, and he was her target. Of course, he would stop her. The question was--how?
Dinah raised her arm and without hesitation fired. Again and again. The shots sounded sharply magnified in the confined space of his apartment. Green Lantern flinched at the loud reports, but stood his ground, safely cocooned within his green aura.
At last, the only sound left was that of the hammer striking the empty chamber. Over and over.
Scott's protective aura winked out, and he walked slowly towards her. "Little Dinah, it isn't true. Your mother and I never betrayed you or your father. She loved you and your father more than anything in the whole world. You were everything to her--the both of you."
"I hate you, Uncle Alan. You took her from us!" Tossing the useless weapon aside, Dinah leaped into action, kicking out with her powerful legs. She aimed for his head, and narrowly missed his temple by a whisper. Scott just managed to duck in time to avoid another kick, this one to the groin.
This was going to be harder than he thought. He considered using the power ring, but instantly discarded it. No, Dinah was family. He'd find another way. But within minutes, he knew that he was on a losing spiral. She was just too well-trained, too deadly for him to hold up against her. Before Scott knew it, Dinah held him in a choke lock.
"Dinah, honey..." he spoke, his voice intense. "Think about what you're doing. It's all a lie, sweetheart. Your mother never left you and your dad. Don't you remember?"
Dinah's hold didn't let up.
"She was there every day of your life. She made you breakfast. She trained you. Remember? She and your dad used to bring you to the JSA gym."
He felt the slightest hesitation.
"I was there with my wife Alyx and daughter Jennie-Lynn." Dinah's hold tightened dangerously. Scott continued hurriedly. "You know Jennie, don't you? She was just a little girl when your mother started your training in earnestness. She's a superhero in her own right." Dinah's hold was beginning to close off his airway.
"I loved Alyx, Dinah. I thought my life was over when she died. But your mom and dad helped me through it. They showed me that I had a daughter who needed me. Just as much as you needed them." He gasped for air. "Little Dinah...I loved your mother...as a friend. She was a good friend. But I loved Alyx...with all my heart." His voice was dying out. "I still do..." He let the darkness claim him.
When awareness finally returned, Scott realized that he was lying face down on the floor, alive. The sound of soft sobbing reached him. Following the sounds, he found Dinah curled up on the sofa. Her face was hidden behind one of the sofa cushions.
Scott's heart melted. His daughter Jennie used to do the same thing when she didn't want the grownups to hear her crying. He willed his Green Lantern costume 'off' and rushed to Dinah's side. Gently, he pried the cushion out of her hands and took her in his arms.
"Oh, Uncle Alan..." Dinah sobbed. "I'm so sorry...I tried so hard to fight that-that man--but he got in my head...!"
"Shhhh...little Dinah," he crooned softly. "No need to apologize. We're family, honey. Remember that...always remember that."
Dinah cried out raggedly, "Uncle Alan, he put those awful memories in my head...! Make them stop! Oh, please! Make them stop!"
Scott held her close, his chin on the top of her head. "Everything's going to be all right, little Dinah..." he said softly. "Uncle Alan is going to make everything all right..."
Holding Dinah in his arms, Green Lantern stoically withstood Batman's cold glare. He knew, or at least suspected, that the Dark Knight might have feelings for Dinah that went beyond mere friendship.
"We'll take her," Batman said. "I saw how Dr. Strange's machines operate, and we've analyzed the drugs he used on her--"
"Thank you. We appreciate the information." The Dark Knight turned towards Dr. Mid-Nite. His eyes narrowed behind his mask. Batman knew that Mid-Nite had dated Dinah for a brief time and felt a sudden stab of jealousy.
"What makes you think that we'll let you take her?" Nightwing demanded.
"Because we're her family." Scott spoke softly. "Don't worry, Batman. We know that Dinah has become a part of your 'family,' too. But, well, this young woman has been a very important part of my life since the day she was born. Please don't interfere." However, Batman looked like he was about to do just that.
"Stop!" Everyone turned at the sound of the new voice. Dr. Fate! "We are taking Black Canary to my tower. There, we will help her heal."
"Do you guarantee--" Batman began.
"We guarantee nothing." Fate said imperiously. "Black Canary has a long journey ahead of her. A long and painful journey that only she can take. We will be there to help her when she needs it, and we will stand aside when she must proceed alone. The information that you have, Batman, will be of great assistance."
Fate held his hands out dramatically before him. The next instant, a 'hole' in the space around them began to take form. Within seconds, a full-sized, arcane portal was opened before them.
Scott was about to enter the portal, when Batman's quiet voice stopped him. "Green Lantern." Scott turned back, his expression inquiring. "Take good care of her." Green Lantern nodded and was about to turn to go but Batman again stopped him. "And Lantern...?" At Green Lantern's look, Batman said, "Will you tell her I said, 'Happy Birthday'?"
Smiling, Green Lantern smiled and stepped into the portal. As the portal closed around the Justice League heroes, Batman muttered under his breath, "Magic." The single word was an indictment of all the arcane arts, everything that his reason and logic couldn't explain. He turned to Nightwing. "Let's go, partner. Our work here is done."
"Would you mind dropping me off at my apartment in Bludhaven?"
"Are you sure? I happen to have it on good authority that Alfred has a tray of hot cocoa and thick sandwiches waiting back at the cave."
Nightwing smiled tiredly. "I'm tempted, Bruce. But I just want to sleep for a week."
"Your loss, kid," Batman said, adding with a slight grin, "and more for me."
The smell of freshly brewed coffee wended its way into his consciousness. Dick's eyes fluttered open, and he lay momentarily confused in the dim shadows of his bedroom. Abruptly, his eyes flew open and he jumped out of bed. Intruder! He was halfway to the door when he stopped.
An intruder that makes coffee? Dick glanced at the clock--10:30am. It was mid-morning. Alfred, he wondered? Bruce? Shaking his head, he opened the door to face his uninvited guest.
He padded barefoot towards the kitchen and stopped. A familiar redhead was moving expertly around the small space on her wheelchair. He leaned on the counter and watched her with pleasure. He smiled when she started humming to herself.
"Good morning," he said. At his words, she whirled around. She looked at him a bit uncertainly, and then smiled.
"Before you yell at me, Bruce didn't send me," she began.
"I wasn't going to yell--"
"How do you like your eggs?"
At her words, Dick remembered their previous day's breakfast conversation. Was it only yesterday, he wondered. Taking in her look of anticipation, Dick began to feel the tension seep out of him that had been building since his experience with Dr. Strange.
"Scrambled," he finally answered.
"Over medium, it is," Barbara said with a laugh.
The End