Shrioukt are the alien race appearing in Jacker, named only in the first story. We don't know much about them, only of an assignment and failure. When the part of the Team returns from the mutual failure of theirs and the robot's, despite his escape, they have questions.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
It's not often that a group of young, energetic, boys and girls look this downhearted thought Red Tornado. Artemis and Robin, the first dispatched, were fully healed and trying to make sense of things with their friends. Aqualad and Superboy were sitting upright, stone-faced, Zatanna hardly breathing being as choked up as she was. Kid Flash, Miss Martian, and Rocket, who had arrived earlier, had their own tales to tell.
"We wanted to help, but we were dealing with an android with tendencies to domestic terrorism and super intelligence. Believe me, we would rather have been on your end, considering it might have helped you catch that bastard. Wally could have caught up with him in his vehicle." Connor, not wishing to be outdone, interjected.
"Could the two of them be working together?" M'gann had misgivings about this.
"The robot had an agenda of his own. He wanted revenge on his designer, and he got it. It looks like he won't be resurfacing soon."
"That's all the more time to assemble amazing powers. How wonderful is that." Kaldur sighed, and then looked back up. "Let's just make sure we've all got the facts straight." Rocket started.
"Squadron showed up, right when a mission was being assigned, came up with a brilliant plan, saved Artemis and Robin, came up with another brilliant plan, beat Blackout's ass, and walked away and nobody noticed until afterword. The question is- what the hell was he trying to accomplish?!" Robin, having heard all the stories, had an answer.
"We weren't the only ones investigating the gang violence in Star City; he was in on it too, probably to arrange a chat with the man at the top. From what I heard from you guys, he got more than that. We believe he has connections with the Injustice League, and they won't let anyone in without evidence they're worth the trouble. Before I knew who he was, I helped him destroy a book with some sort of time-traveling magical capabilities, which he understandably wanted out of the picture." Zatanna had something to say, having seemed to have gotten over Squadron's Paradise Lost reference.
"He seems to do that a lot. Taking advantage of what people don't know is one of his skills." Artemis, not having spoken, had an idea that might help.
"That's it; we need to know his skills. You're right; his enemies' ignorance is his best friend. Let's see what we can consolidate about this guy. He seemed to be a competent swordsman, even though we nearly killed him." Superboy picked it up.
"His powers seem to be leadership-oriented. The magic helmet is from Legion, his long dead mentor. He can use it to protect a militia of any size. The sword filters out useless information, which helps him formulate his plans."
"He was doing fine without it. But then he saw that person who especially reminded him of his past, and he spaced out. I think he's smart by himself, but his sword restores him to his normal state." Zatanna had seen the villainous sidekick in action, and was determined to take advantage of it.
"The sword also helps him hear." The team turned to face Red Arrow, whom they didn't notice had just entered.
"How did you know that? And if you had seen him before, why didn't you tell us? That would have been helpful!" the archer, having predicted this question, had a response ready.
"When the two of them were teamed up, Blackout put me to sleep and shoved a bomb down my throat. Being able to get rid of unusable sounds, Squadron heard not only this, but could probably also hear me even as I was taking Robin and Artemis to medical attention. I didn't even know it was in me until he told me right before we came into the cave. I was hoping, that by leaving, I could get out of the detonator's range, call you, and inform on him, but my cell phone's battery was conveniently missing." Having experience with that, the three members of the Team who accompanied Squadron had sympathy for him. Artemis had also acknowledged it wasn't Kaldur's fault he let Red Tornado take over. Red told them afterward that, on the bug he had given Squadron, not the one on which he had recorded his message, that Squadron informed him he was in a separate car leaving and to call Kaldur immediately. The plan had just been too good.
"He's also got a few weaknesses. Take away his sword, and he suffers, with no one to lead, he can't use the helmet, and on a personal level, he has an unnaturally great hatred for small-time criminals." Zatanna would not have this bastard escape. He would be brought to justice. Red Tornado, having observed all of this, was proud of the Team deciding to at least assemble information, taking away what had been Squadron's weapon the whole time.
"But what ever happened to the robot?" Wally, annoyed by his own actions, had an answer.
"With a good momentary hiding place, my idiocy of running off to help you guys, and Rocket having no choice but to take M'gann to medical attention for her severe burns, he had a window of several hours in which he could not only escape, but probably repair a little as well. You may have stopped him from going completely underground by being dead to us, but for all we know he's on vacation somewhere, sipping champagne on a beach."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
The delicate work on the sensory nerves paid off. Dorchet looked out at the sea, from where he was, it looked like the moon was in retrograde or something. It seems I still can't conjure up a romantic description of the beach. At least I have a sense of taste. The young woman peddling various alcoholic beverages for a festivity one bay over had a slight look of confusion when Dorchet had approached her. It's not every day you have to card a robot, but his age, like his name could be forged, forgotten, and forsaken without a moment's notice because, as the humans usually put it, "It just doesn't matter with a robot." Ordering champagne instead of the humbler potions of the humans around, Dorchet wandered over to see what these festivities entailed. The partygoers were no longer dancing; instead they were doing some strange activity that morphed from a standing embrace to mutually lying down. Why can't I remember what this practice is? If somebody mentioned something involved, I could do a search and find out… but I can't learn from seeing. Before long, the celebration ended as a young man stood, shouting some sort of warning. Police officers arrived with wailing sirens and rotating lights. Reasoning it was better to walk away, being still wanted, Dorchet left, with a new piece of information. They're doing something illegal… crimes, crimes young men and women commit, loitering…no, underage drinking… probably, but no one would report that….having sex with a minor…I think we've found it. If there were any expressions programmed into Dorchet's face, he would have chosen one somewhere between confusion and disgust. A sudden realization of the intentions of the mixed group of youths and young adults caused Dorchet to immediately conduct a search in his mind as to why they were acting in such a way. There's no way they could need to produce that many children. A voice came from behind the confused robot.
"Thanks for coming over to warn us, useless robot." The young man who had stated this delivered a kick that surprisingly sent Dorchet forward several yards. Landing and turning around, he saw the boy was accompanied by a girl covered in blood who possessed several knives in various sheathes about her body, as well as a police firearm she was carrying. The boy, upon further inspection, had some sort of device on his back similar to the ones super villain Bane had sold to trouble makers at one point. His inner consciousness immediately screamed Play dumb robot!
"I'm sorry; I didn't know you were doing anything wrong. Or that you would be so well outfitted with muscular enhancements. Perhaps we could make an exception, and have the poor android wander on his way." It didn't work, or the boy simply wanted to hit him anyway. I guess it's time to fight. Dorchet took the hit, while swaying to the left allowing the youth to continue motion where he had expected to find more resistance. With his opponent at an awkward position, he reached over the boy's back and took hold of his device, as the girl planted two bullets in his shoulder. With only a few seconds before the young man would throw him or the girl would fire again, the robot settled for a quick blow to one of the cables on his device before the prior proved itself true. Once more landing in the sand, though with greater force than before, it seemed Dorchet had failed at shutting down the system entirely, but had accomplished severing the machine's connection to the right arm.
"Now you've really done it. You're going to die, machine head."
"Is this a squabble over favorite metal bands?" I'm the luckiest robot in the world. He's here. A look of anger flashed in the eyes of the boy, who ceased paying attention to Dorchet and went after Squadron. The African American youth drew his sword and sidestepped the two rounds fired from the girl's stolen weapon, and followed by smacking the young man with the flat of the blade.
"You can't kill one of my soldiers, dear friends. Power seems to be no issue, but if you had the respect I would let you join me." The girl fired another three rounds and hit Squadron in the shoulder. Without flinching, he threw his blade directly at his attacker, a maneuver she was not expecting, and it planted itself in her abdomen. Dorchet, standing back up, grabbed onto another cable on the young man's back as Squadron took a full force blow to the face.
"Duck, dammit! You could have died!" Squadron had other plans. Swiping and missing the boy's nose, he pulled back for his opponent to swing again. Dorchet, having already planted his feet, flew backward as the cable broke when the youth lunged forward. It was too early to celebrate, however, as the young woman had apparently not died and threw one of her many knives into Squadron's bicep, causing it to fall limp. Running forward in a zigzag, two more missed him, and did not prevent him from launching a flying kick to the hole from which she had removed the sword. The girl, some sort of natural freak, did not scream, but before hitting the ground, threw her final two knives into Squadron's throat, causing him to nearly strangle himself in order to staunch the bleeding. The young woman crawled to her feet and limped over to the crouched Squadron.
"I've been waiting for this moment my entire life. I'm not going to kill you, I'm going to take you and turn you into a slave. You're going to shrink in stature, and that's not all that will shrink with what I got off the internet to feed you. Then I think I'll show you off to my friends, once you're nice and docile."
"Actually, I've been waiting for this moment. The fight's been too close range so far to use this." Dorchet pulled a glowing piece of rock from a pocket in his white armor and expelled an arc of orange flames, which immediately hit the girl in the chest. Squadron, standing, managed to remove the knives and tie up his wounds with handkerchiefs from his suit pockets. Looking around, Dorchet noticed no one in sight with the sun going down and the tide having been rising for some time. His human accomplice walked around, picking up his sword, returning it to its scabbard, picking up the knives and stuffing them into the girl's stab wound. He then grabbed Dorchet's bottle of champagne, along with many other bottles either containing or having once contained some form of alcohol and placed them around their dead enemy. Dorchet, realizing what Squadron was doing, peeled off the burnt areas of skin and tossed them into the ocean, before grabbing the dead girl's hands and scratching the places where she was missing skin. The tall black youth appreciating the android's imagination, nodded in respect and spoke.
"Official police report: so drunk she tried methamphetamine, scratched her skin off and stabbed herself several times. All that will get back to her parents is that she overdosed and the world will forget her. Good job." As the human strode off to go 'find a wizard to heal me' as he put it, Dorchet called after the figure, shrinking with increasing distance.
"I guess that's what keeps guys like we are going. We'd rather be hated than forgotten."
"Once again, my metal friend, you've hit the proverbial nail on the head. It's as they say in Hollywood 'There's no such thing as bad press '." And with that, he was gone.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
A few hours earlier, Dorchet was sitting in his automobile, as he supposed he inherited it from Ariadne, changing the radio station hundreds of times. Where the hell is NPR? They must have been running a commercial as I flipped to it. Looks like I'll have to go through it again. As he was angrily turning the radio stations, he realized his turn was past and he would simply have to drive in a straight line for two hours straight until he got to turn around. I've committed far too many crimes to be concerned with these trivial traffic regulations. I'm already in Texas, it shouldn't be much further from here… nay; I shall risk it. Sharply jerking on to the median, Dorchet slowed down, did a 180 and sped towards the overpass where he'd be able to turn off and get back on track. Finally under the overpass, still in the median, Dorchet decided to wait until the traffic cleared to pull onto the turn. Finally finding NPR, Dorchet relaxed as he listened to the program talk about a bombing in Tehran. Unfortunately, as indicated by a tap on his windshield, he wouldn't have long to enjoy his favorite radio station. Getting out so that he might talk to his visitor, assuming to be either a police officer or a bum, Dorchet stood to face a powerful man built like a brick in a heavy coat and some kind of voice scrambler over his face.
"Greetings, fellow outlaw! I'll admit I was not anticipating an android, but perhaps I'll make use of you somehow. Where are you headed?" rang out the truly robotic, though greatly jovial voice of the deceivingly threatening looking man. Dorchet looked around before he responded. Teenagers were trying on these strange apparatuses, putting them on their backs and having friends activate them from behind. Liquid surged through cables and those with devices would become immensely powerful. Should have stepped on the gas, but this guy might have been able to chase me down.
"I am called Jacker by those who pursue me. I was planning to go to San Diego, you know, get out of town?" This man looked to be familiar with such loaded statements, with the look of understanding. Dorchet was also trying to get his name out. Perhaps these two could be on good terms.
"Ah, thank you I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Disciple and these are minions of the master. I was just sending one over to meet a possible recruit. You see, my teacher Bane has always had underlings outfitted with his special weapons, but who was to produce them? The greatest thinker on this half of the planet and the other, he invented them himself, but gave the design to me, as I was sure to understand them. Are you familiar with his plans?" Dorchet's quick scan of the crowd indicated that there were well over 300 juvenile delinquents equipping themselves with these objects, and a sewer through which the youths were travelling.
"Do you refer to the one about arming the citizenry and conducting a proletariat uprising? A noble goal, but I always wondered how he would start such a plot. Perhaps this explains the relative youth of your volunteers, and of course the secrecy of hiding in the sewers."
"You're a perceptive robot, Jacker. Perhaps we really could make use of you, in the event of a biohazard or anything else we organics can't handle. I'll admit I don't know what Bane would say about it, considering we are separated at the moment. You see, despite his base of operations ultimately being in Africa, I planned on helping by opening up shop here in the States." Disciple walked about as he spoke then stopped, looked up at his potential robotic inductee. "What eventually happened, after hearing no word from our leader for so long, some of our older members became restless. I told them I phoned another leader, an expert in our field, who had already amassed a small army of gangsters and mercenaries. If we were to join forces, his men would become more powerful and we would have an experienced general to carry out Bane's wishes." The charming Disciple was replaced by an angry one, getting out his words more heavily "But I hear another potential leader has recently gotten our friend imprisoned from my informant connected to the Injustice League. I shall not rest until I catch him."
"I'll have to see you, it's been nice, but I have a very similar man to chase." Getting back into his vehicle, Dorchet sped onto the turn off and checked his phone. There was a message, reading it as he pulled onto his correct road. That's just great. I'm on my way, I've heard of some bastard I think has connections with Blackout. He's stationed in Laredo, but his real center of attention is under San Diego.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Dorchet finished wiping his partner's prints off the bottles and remembered the things he wanted to say to Squadron too late. It's not like he doesn't know already. I should get going. The android stood and began to wonder how the super villain recognized him. He was outfitted with white armor, like some kind of robot-suit, and had already painted himself orange. He even had legs now, contrary to how Squadron had seen him. But he had the same voice, and Squadron mentioned something about hearing really well. That's how he found me. I'm not far from the apartment and he's seen my car before. Beyond that, I'm sure he's a good enough detective. Dorchet made it back to the room with little trouble. A paparazzo wanted to know where whatsherass had gone, but most humans are silenced with an unexpected left hook with a steel arm. He stuck his solar cell out the window and set an alarm for whenever it finishes charging. Powering down to save energy, Dorchet woke to the sight of a girl wearing something like Batman's costume standing in his room.
"And here I thought robots didn't sleep. No matter, I've been wrong before."
"I recharge more quickly if I power down. No doubt you saw it out the window, and wondered what I would be doing recharging in the evening when there's so little light, to wake in total darkness. This is because you're unaware I wasn't completely out and didn't need to recharge much."
"Maybe you should stick to running yourself to the ground, recharging during the day, and going about whatever left-handed intentions you have at night. You'll attract less attention than you do in that getup." The two of them were circling around the chair where he'd been sitting.
"Speaking of getups, who exactly are you? I'm familiar with the League of course-"
"But not aware that when Batman left for it, he stationed me to go Batmanning"
"I almost expected a vacation for once. What is this- New Gotham?!" The girl immediately grew suspicious, obviated by her precaution of leaping over Dorchet's new favorite wicker chair and pinning him to the floor, his left arm smashing through the window. Shit, someone's been hanging around the World's Greatest Detective for too long. She's also been around the proverbial block a few times. Rather than her usual suave taunting voice, the bat-someone was veritably shouting at him.
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW AND HOW DID YOU LEARN IT?!" Best to spill now.
"I ran into Disciple in the cartel capitol of the States! He said he built those super-strength devices under San Diego and I came here to take a damning picture and threaten to show it to Batman!" The girl swapped expressions, less strain going into the many muscles of the face. Well, it was a pretty good lie. Fortunately, I can't show relief on my face even if I wished to do so.
"And what if I want to go through your stuff and turn you in for blackmail?" Dorchet reached back into a pocket in his armor and grabbed hold of the angry bat-student's protruding red hair.
"Then I would have to burn you to a cinder. This is a tablet from the Mayans or someone like that. From my experience, it's pretty damn good at such a task." The girl's eyes refocused and widened.
"You killed Brown Thatcher? They're a dime a dozen, but they don't warrant slaughter!"
"No. I killed the guy who did. Well, I destroyed his internal homunculus, to be exact."
"What do you have to hide, a body?" She was just about mocking him now.
"You're closer than you think. Look, I don't want any trouble, just get off me." The model of agility did a perfect pushup hard enough to end up on her feet. She's strong, I'll give her that.
"Is that why you didn't shoot me before? Dorchet got up and walked to his apartment door, grabbing his key card from on top of the television, realizing the kid hadn't come through said door.
"No. I didn't want to damage the furniture, Batty one. It's Jacker, by the way."
"Batgirl. I'm assuming you have a lead of some sort." At a nod from the robot, they were out.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
The sewers were simple enough to navigate. At Batgirl's interrogatory expression at his knowledge of every turn, he explained the Water Works had a map. Had. Upon making it to Disciple's hideout, the two of them noticed several enhanced guards posted. A large glass cylinder of some strange yellow-white fluid extended from the ceiling to the floor. Floor workers idly tapped buttons, checked fuel gauges, and generally maintained the lab. The unlikely partners looked down from Batgirl's chosen vantage point of the ceiling. She was right. Nobody ever looks up.
"They have a weakness-"
"I know, the cables on their backs going to the devices. I've fought them before. It's why I was sent on this underground mission. I haven't had outside contact in weeks." What a relief. The two of them fell from the ceiling, deciding Disciple was probably the only one who knew how to craft the formula without instruction. Falling, Batgirl threw an explosive at the glass, and then two on the ground as Dorchet launched flames at floor workers and guards indiscriminately. Landing, the girl slung three Batarangs in three different directions, severing more from their enhancements. But the impressionable youths kept coming. Grabbing her around the neck, at least three of them managed to restrain Dorchet's feminine companion. Pretending not to notice, at least until after he had blasted the other two remaining guards, Dorchet turned at last, after a yell from one of the captors. Batgirl was almost blue in the face from an arm under her chin, and a knee on her back pinning her to the ground.
"Put down the flamethrower or we break an arm off." A girl had Batgirl's arm behind her back. This seems pretty serious. But fortunately, they underestimate my rock. After detaching an arm, the enhanced teenage boy and girls relaxed, and let go of Batgirl's arm long enough for Dorchet to send an arc of flame directly at the three of them. His partner swung a leg directly into the jaw of one from the ground as he switched targets. The fight did not take long after that.
"What do we do with them now?" The costumed heroine looked up at Jacker, the orange robot with white armor. He raised the small, glowing piece of stone once again.
"Simple" Despite Batgirl's shouting, her arm was dislocated and there was no good way of stopping the menacing machine. Once three youths had been burned to a crisp, the girl was veritably in tears. Jacker announced they were wasting their time, destroyed the blueprints for the devices and formula, and picked up a cell phone off a nearby broken computer.
"What are you going to do?! See if he's on speed dial? They're not stupid enough to do that. This is why we leave them alive. They could have helped us find Disciple, and we might have been able to let them go. But now they're dead. And we've got no way of tracking down the boss." Frustrated, the old apprentice walked off, pressed a button on a small communicator, not turning for Jacker's words.
"They're not all dead. They would probably refuse to lead us to Disciple even if we threatened them, and I know where Disciple is. As to how I'm going to contact him to see if he's planning something? There are older features than speed dial, namely Redial." The robot pushed a button as the girl walked over to the bodies, picking up thrown projectiles.
"Disciple? I'm taking you up on your offer. There's been a minor mishap at this factory of yours. An old enemy seems to have gotten in and busted your operation. I've dislocated Batgirl's arm. It seems the League's undercover team has not been in contact with her for weeks, she should be safe to interrogate. Okay. Sure. Just get over here as soon as you can." Batgirl dropped her weapons and sighed.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Batgirl tried to shrug. It didn't work. Her shoulder hadn't been popped back in place, even though Jacker's had. She was also tied to a steel chair. The bodies had been cleaned up, as well as the scorch marks on the floor. There was no indication of Jacker's fight here. After what seemed like hours, the hulking, menacing figure of Disciple walked through the door with four youths for backup.
"When I said 'as soon as you can', I didn't mean you had to take a Blackhawk. What do you propose we do about this mess?"
"In truth, Jacker, I was on my way. I picked up this one-" a girl dragged Squadron out in front of Disciple. He was still wearing his helmet, but one of the three boys was holding his sword "On the way here. It seems he was trying to contact impressionable youths in Arizona. Can't have that, now can I? Those are mine! Well, we couldn't get anything out of him, no matter what Alicia here tried." The light coming from Jacker's eyes narrowed on the muscular girl Disciple indicated.
"You're really into bondage, aren't you?"
"How did you know?!" The electronic voice rang out even more sharp than usual. He pulled out a smart phone, an enhanced boy chuckling beside him. Disciple raised an eyebrow, stared at the kid, and punched him in the head. Jacker hadn't expected it to come off. The aggressor crushed his phone in his hand. The rest of his minions were silent, looking forward, and trying not to scream.
"There are few good ways to truly keep things from meddling kids. This is one. I'm suggesting a hostage trade. I'm not sure about you Jacker, you tell me a story with no one alive to disagree. I'm sure you sent all my injured apprentices to a hospital you can't name right now; I know Batgirl wouldn't kill them, and I don't seem to see them anywhere. So I'll make it simple. I trade this highly wanted target for a potential source of information. Do we have a deal?" Batgirl was shaking her head rapidly. Good actress, but she's right. I had no reason to be down here; he's definitely suspicious and setting a trap.
"I'll take you up on that, but one thing first. Are you real muscle or enhanced, because you don't look uneven like your students."
"I have always been a student of Bane's. My body is completely real, but this mask is just a voice scrambler, unlike his." Disciple walked over to the chiropteran prisoner, squatting inches from her face.
"What sort of secrets do you possess, my little battling?" Batgirl opened her mouth to reveal a glowing piece of stone as Jacker began running for the remaining three youths, cutting the first's cord with a Batarang, liquid spraying out like an arterial wound. Turning back, fire had engulfed Disciple's face, masking his expression of confused anger. Staggering backward, he broke a cable off of one of his students, letting the liquid rush at his face. Looking up, he wasn't healed, but it would keep him from dying. His scrambler was gone and there were still burn wounds. Still tied up, Batgirl had already wounded the last apprentice as Jacker wisely ran for the door, reasoning Disciple would come after him. He was wrong.
"Ahh… Venom, the greatest drug ever invented what more could you do for me? You've strengthened my students… for a time. You can even save me an inch from my brains frying. But I've got some annoying traitors to kill, and I think I'll do just fine on my own." The powerful, deranged man spun around, fist flying into Batgirl's mouth, the tablet piece and blood flying out. The stunned youth, eyes impossibly wide, vertically pivoted to the ground in what seemed like slow motion, despite being sure she was going down with the force of a train. A blurry image of Jacker, evil robot, picking up a sword burned itself into her mind as the back of her skull collided with the concrete ground.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Contrary to popular assumption, it's not slow work preparing the Batmobile. Especially when you're Batman and your apprentice has sent a distress signal. Of course, he'd already been in the area, and was about to head back east after meeting the third Green Lantern, discreetly delivering him news of the relatively new Team, a unit for which he had been considering assigning Batgirl. Speeding along the relatively deserted California highway as the sun was coming up, his thoughts drifted to the Team itself. They're not the kids they were when we recruited them. He thought of how they carefully pieced together information about the new threat, rather than wallowing in self-pity. The Dark Knight began to realize his increasing respect for the Team, especially his own apprentice. Dick's going to be a superhero of his own sooner or later. I'm going to need a new Robin. Upon his arrival to the signal's epicenter, it seemed Batgirl was under San Diego when she sent for Batman. With the Batmobile safely parked and armored, Batman noticed a manhole cover and walked over to it, trying to avoid attention. Just like one of Bane's, hide in the sewers. Disciple must have had an army. But as he was squatting to remove the cover and go down the hole, someone on the other side beat him to the punch, slugging the steel cover with a great amount of force, smacking Batman in the face with it. Fortunately, it seemed the orange robot in white armor was equally surprised to find the Caped Crusader on the outside. Batman, recovering, reached down and heaved the unexpectedly heavy android from the sewer. Looking down, he noticed the robot had an unconscious passenger, a black young man faintly holding onto a sword.
"Isn't this lucky? I dig out you two on the same day. You're going to jail." But before he could slap handcuffs on them both, considering the youth was waking up, a huge man in a heavy coat leapt out of the sewer, presumably thinking the same thing. Slinging a Batarang at Disciple, he staggered backward, feet awkwardly falling back in the hole, head flying forward, colliding with the side of the hole. After handcuffing the two juvenile delinquents to a nearby streetlight pole, Batman jumped down the hole, in pursuit of the greater threat. At the bottom, Disciple was nowhere to be seen. Running along a passageway, he noticed several burned bodies, floating to the surface of the murky water. They're… kids. Must have been the robot's doing. Reaching a larger room, a broken glass cylinder was slowly oozing Venom about the floor. Disciple stood in the middle, holding a limp Batgirl in his arms.
"I trust you've had those two detained, with the authorities closing in? Good. I need them out of the way." The muscular villain said this as he carefully pulled a stray hair out of the girl's face.
"Kyle Rayner is on the case. They don't have a chance." Without further ado, Batman threw himself at the ground in front of Disciple, grabbing a pipe that ran along the floor, and launched a kick at the villain's knees. Disciple, though not vocally reacting to the pain of his knees going backward, dropped Batgirl into Batman's arms. Looking around, the recovering Disciple picked up on his thoughts.
"There's no place to put her down, is there? The floor's a foot of Venom, she would drown. The computers on the desks are explosion risks, considering I've set them on fire. In a few hours, the Venom will have seriously damaged the floor. I dare not suggest what might have happened to your girl if I hadn't gotten here. Perhaps you should have just let me keep her." Batman heaved the girl onto one shoulder and threw a Batarang, cutting the few ceiling lamps. But the fire from the computers was burning brightly enough for Disciple to see him. The great oaf laughed.
"Did you think me a fool? I had more reasons for destroying the Venom device instructions!" Batman turned and fled, the angry behemoth gaining on him. The limp girl was almost conscious now.
"Babs.." Batman whispered "When the time is right, I want you to join the Team, ok?"
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
The Green Lantern, flying, noticed the wanted robot running away with one arm, probably having detached it, disassembled it, reassembled it, and reattached it. Seeing him run, Kyle considered leaving the youth for the police and giving chase, but then noticed the boy had stabbed the two officers with what looked to be a sword. That's right; he's supposed to have a sword. They should have threatened him from a distance. Luckily, I can. He created a laser gun and fired next to the boy.
"Try anything and lose your legs!" The boy picked up the robot's remaining arm.
"He had to leave this one when I heard you coming! Law enforcement was foolish enough to ask me which way he went!" The African American sheathed his sword and raised his handcuffed hands higher on the pole. The angered Green Lantern fired, destroying the bottom of the pole as the boy jumped. The youth slipped all the cuffs of the light post, Green Lantern firing at will. Running, the villain seemed to notice not only a specific apartment building, but a specific window. There was a small hole at the base of it where something had smashed though. That's where the robot went. Kyle began to speed towards the window, only to see the young bad guy throw the other arm through it. Someone's got accuracy... and a hell of an arm. The youth kept running, seemingly towards a small manhole cover in the middle of the road. That's how he's going to escape… But his plans were immediately halted by a police car parking on it, and three officers getting out. One of them reached for a megaphone, probably to read him his rights from a distance.
"Super villain Squadron! You are hereby placed under arrest, charged with 6 murders, multiple counts of car theft, assault and battery, and… associating with terrorist robots." An impossibly loud voice rang out, followed by a six foot robot hurling himself out a window, lining up with the sun.
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT TERRORISTIC ROBOTS?!" The large blue robot, who could only be Jacker, landed right next to Squadron. The police car was suddenly thrown in the air, as a stunned Disciple climbed out of the sewer, followed by Batman. The Dark Knight handed what looked to be Batgirl off to a compliant police officer, who seemed to be glad for an excuse to leave. Jacker turned, silently thanking his friend for persuading him to download himself into the body he'd been carrying around. He threw an unexpected punch at Disciple's skull, killing him, and turned to Batman, who had already thrown high explosives in his direction. Jacker sidestepped as Squadron began multiple sword strokes against Batman, only to be out-maneuvered and thrown back with incredible force. When the smoke from the bombs cleared, Kyle could see again and swooped down next to Batman.
"End of the road, boys. You're in no condition to fight, and you can't take on both of us." Jacker looked over to his human companion. There was an unusual smile on his face.
"How are we going to get out of this one, Squadron?" The youth looked almost insulted.
"Didn't I tell you I had contacted a wizard?" A sphere of white light surrounded them and they were gone as it faded, to the heroes' surprise. From what Green Lantern could tell, the two evils had not used any sort of alien technology, and it probably really was magic. The Dark Knight spoke.
"Once again, Squadron's escaped by a combination of luck and planning. He's not so quick as to think this up spur of the moment. No, this one's a planner. I'll make sure to add that to the list.