SKIN TRADE

Out on the northern edge of Gotham City, towards where the harbour overlooked the glistening belt of lights that was Blúdhaven across the river, a slow-moving line of five limousines entered a cluttered industrial complex. Past the chain-link gate and between banks of dilapidated warehouses, the convoy edged carefully, the drivers alert for anything that seemed amiss. Trash blew in a cold wind across their path, flattened by the wide tyres as they moved into an open area enclosed on either side by buildings and the river in front. There, sitting calmly at a portable desk, his face illuminated by a glowing laptop, a man known only as the Auctioneer on the streets weighed up the new arrivals, seeing no faces but knowing all their names.

In the alleyway the cars had just exited, a stealthy, caped figure ran between the warehouses, leaving behind a gleaming metallic trail that covered the road.

Nodding wordlessly to one of the assembled hired guns nearby, the Auctioneer gave the signal to present the merchandise. Walking to a nearby cargo container, two of the men opened the doors wide, pointing their guns and ordering the terrified contents out onto the asphalt.

From her vantage-point on the crane above the clearing, Pantera sat and watched, her keen senses and rapidly-improving detective's brain counting the frightened people exiting the container. Eighteen in all; eight men, five women, four children, one baby held by its mother, mercifully fast asleep. She reached for her ear and spoke into her comm softly.

"Red Robin, come in."

In her ear, her partner in all things, Red Robin, replied as quietly.

"I hear you, Pantera. What's your twenty?"

"I'm above the sale right now," she murmured, "all players in position. Six goons, two with AK-47s, semi-automatics on the rest. Eighteen civilians, all wearing numbers. Looks like a sale."

"So it is more than an illegal immigration ring...guess I owe you a smoothie."

Pantera swelled a little with pride. She'd suspected there was more to the tip-off they'd received than met the eye. Illegals rarely needed armed guards to get off the ships once they made the mainland. She knew this from her own experience, having come to Gotham from Bialya herself illegally years ago.

"I have eyes on the Auctioneer too...Oracle, you linked in?"

A third voice, female and gentle, replied efficiently.

"I'm getting five separate wi-fi signals from the limos. As soon as a bid goes in, you're clear to do your thing."

Unaware he was being observed, the Auctioneer tapped a few keys on his laptop, placing opening bids on each of the cargo lining up in front of the cars. Satisfied, he hit enter to open the auction. Immediately, the screen began to fill with bids from the gathered occupants of the limousines.

"Bidding just started...god, they're all bidding on the kids." Oracle mused.

"That's our cue," Red Robin responded, "Pantera, do your thing."

Pantera only smiled, then leapt from the crane, a horrifying roar echoing from her lungs as she dropped down onto the gunmen below.

Startled by the sudden cry, all six gunmen looked up towards the source of the noise. A small but lithe figure, her face obscured by the darkness of the night, fell upon them, claws gleaming. As one, the men brought their guns to bear on...nothing. The descending figure seemed to simply vanish as she fell. Nervously, each looked to the other, one of them clutching his rifle with white knuckles, murmuring what the rest suspected.

"I think that was Pantera..."

He said no more after that, as he was suddenly grabbed from behind and dragged into darkness. A dull thud, a muffled cry of pain, and six became five. The remaining gunmen turned and fired hastily into the darkness, their muzzle-flares illuminating their unconscious comrade, along with the fact that their target was nowhere to be seen.

Nearby, as the limos began to reverse out of the clearing and back towards the alley, the Auctioneer calmly took a small metallic circle from his pocket, placing it on the keyboard of his laptop and closing it, then picked it up and stood, looking around for a safe point of exit. Finding one in a nearby alleyway, he hurriedly walked towards it, picking up pace as his panicked henchmen called to each other, all frantically looking for the small figure who had made such fast work of one of them already. Smiling to himself as he entered the alley, he did not notice the figure on the rooftop above until it was too late.

A small spherical object bounced off the ground in front of the Auctioneer, coming to rest mere inches from his feet.

"Oh sh-..."

The flash-bang popped loudly, the alley's darkness momentarily dispelled by the bright light it projected. Dazed, the Auctioneer stumbled blindly forwards, straight into a vicious uppercut from the waiting Red Robin, who had used the distraction to get to ground-level and close on his target. Knocked unconscious immediately, the slim man fell to the ground without a sound.

"Auctioneer's down," he reported into his comm, "Pantera? How are things your end?"

"I'm fine," Pantera responded, in a tone that suggested she was anything but, "could use a little assist though..."

As one of the henchmen grabbed her from behind, Pantera used his support to kick upwards at another of the approaching men, wrapping her feet around his neck and twisting herself between them, taking both men down to the ground with her hard. Disengaging herself from the first, she rolled on top of him and delivered a stunning open-palm strike to the bridge of his nose, knocking him out, then twisted to face the other, crouching low, a gleeful grin from ear to ear.

As she pounced on her target, he raised his pistol and fired, the shot glancing off Pantera's rib but still drawing blood, making the girl wince. She landed bodily on him, hand raised, claws extended, glaring furiously down into his eyes.

"You tore my costume," she said simply, a hint of petulance in her voice.

Behind her, Red Robin was leaping out of the way of a stream of automatic fire from one of the men with an assault rifle. Timing his advance between the short bursts as he had been trained, he darted forwards, extending his staff and using it to vault the remaining distance into the gunman, feet-first. Knocking him down hard, he grabbed the rifle and tossed it at a nearby henchman, clipping the back of his leg to prevent his retreat. This done, he turned to the last, pinning him to the wall of a warehouse with two expertly-thrown blades from his belt. Knowing the game was up, the pinned gunman dropped his pistol and waited. Satisfied, Red Robin looked to Pantera to see if she was okay.

"Pantera," he chided, "how many times do I have to tell you not to play with your food?"

"Tore my costume," she responded economically, her claws still raised above the terrified henchman. Nearby, the stunned gathering of people began to edge back towards the cargo container, as in the distance sirens could be heard.

"Oracle, did you get screencaps of the bids?"

"Sure did," came the reply, "and those new stingers you developed worked like a charm. As we speak, the front and rear limos are both immobilised. Nobody's going anywhere."

Red Robin nodded to Pantera, who raised an eyebrow, pointing to her claws. He shook his head. Pouting, she retracted them, curling her hand into a fist and knocking out her struggling prey, muttering "I never get to have any fun..."

Moving quickly, the pair secured and cable-tied the unconscious henchmen, leaving them in the centre of the clearing, close to the already trussed up Auctioneer. This done, Red Robin unpinned the last of them from the wall and frog-marched him along the alley where the limos had stalled. His new stingers were indeed effective; a strip of metal, covered in spikes, with enough electrical charge to fry any interior systems in the car that passed over them. Tyres, auto-locks, CB radios, sunroofs, all out of commission. A holding-cell on four wheels. He'd placed one at the far end of the alley, and a second at the close end, timed to trigger only when the first one had. Eyeballing the distance required had been tricky, but the effect was impressive. He'd have to ask Batman if he'd be interested in developing his own version.

"Red Robin?" Pantera asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Huh? Oh, yeah...we're done here. Need to get that looked at?" he pointed at Pantera's already-closing wound.

"No," she murmured, "just grazed a rib. I'll be all set once we get back home."

"Think any of 'em will roll on Sionis?" he asked. Pantera shook her head.

"Assuming any of them even know that's who they were working for, they'll do their time, rather than risk a shank in the shower," she opined, "and I saw the Auctioneer magnetize the laptop, so I doubt the FBI will have any hard data to link Black Mask to any of this."

"Damn it!" Red Robin hissed, "well, at least we saved those people from whatever fate these scumbags had in store for 'em. Oh, speaking of which..."

Red Robin suddenly snapped off a back elbow to the jaw of the henchman he was escorting, knocking him unconscious. Laying him gently on the trunk of the rearmost limo, he watched for signs of the GCPD. As he saw uniformed men edging alongside the limousines, he reached for Pantera's hand and pulled her to him, aiming his grapnel-gun at the crane above and dashing up into the night. Pantera could have easily teleported the distance, but she smiled to herself as she felt Red Robin's firm arm around her, then the rush of upward motion taking her breath away as surely as he did every time she looked at him.

From the crane above, the pair watched, satisfied, as the police forced the limos open and dragged the protesting occupants out and towards their custody vans. By now, Oracle would have emailed all the incriminating bids to the FBI, and between them and the District Attorney a case was probably already being built. The INS would arrive soon to process the illegals, most of whom would likely be deported back home. Pantera frowned as she saw them nervously milling about, unsure what fate may have in store for them...until she noticed that there was no sign of the mother or her baby. In all the confusion, eighteen had become sixteen, and at least two people had a chance of a better life now. She smiled to herself, watching the scene unfold, before turning to Red Robin.

"Time to go," she said quickly, her face widening into a grin.

"Uh-oh."

"What?"

"I know that smile," Red Robin mused, "what are you up to?"

"Nothing," Pantera lied, biting her lip, "just pondering how best to reward a big brave superhero for his valiant efforts tonight..."

"And what have you come up with?"

Pantera leaned across to Red Robin, smiling, whispering her intent. His eyebrows threatened to leave his forehead as he smiled himself, gazing at her in surprise.

"Pythia Wayne!" he exclaimed, "what would Alfred say?"

"Isn't that one of the reasons we moved out?" she giggled, "Come on, let's go home."

Nodding, Red Robin stood up on the crane's scaffold and aimed his grapnel-gun again, firing it at a nearby rooftop. Tensing the line, he grabbed Pantera's waist and swung out across the city night, his beloved nestling her head against his shoulder, sighing contentedly as they flew.