Exiles 2.01 By LongRider

Disclaimer: This is my first attempt at a crossover fic. Be gentle with the reviews.

Teaser

A burst of bright light and incredible heat was the only warning before the world was captured in a fire worthy of the sun. When the sky finally wept for the scarred and beaten earth all was ash and death.

A few hours destruction would cost decades to repair. If the survivors could devote themselves to it.

Things didn't work out that way.

Now the only thing that mattered to the dwindling human race was survival.

Now there was a new threat.

The machines.

What remained of the human race were now engaged in a war with a creation of their own devising. Each year the machines grew in intelligence, efficiency and ingenuity and each year hundreds fell because of it.

This was a fact that was not lost on each of the 2 grim faced men who were hiding in the rubble.

They had been in the same spot for the last 3 hours, not moving a muscle, covered with pieces of debris and large quantities of dirt to successfully hide themselves from detection.

"Clear?" The larger man asked his partner.

"Clear." Came the firm reply.

"Make the call." With that the smaller of the 2 activated his comms kit and reached for his throat-mic.

"Oracle 1, Oracle 1, this is Bat 1, do you copy?" It was times like this that made waiting the worst. They could cope with an attack, or a new assignment, but waiting to hear from home, even for a few seconds gave free reign on the old fear to run wild while they waited for a voice to confirm that home was still there.

They were Special Ops, meaning they did the work that many couldn't do and didn't get to hear about. That meant long stretches of time away from the resistance base they called home.

It also made for lonely work.

Despite the fact they enjoyed each others company, arguments and old complaints often arose after a while, which was then followed by a mutual no-conversation agreement.

So it was nice to hear from someone else.

Anyone else.

"Bat 1, this is Oracle 1, go ahead." The smaller man couldn't help noticing his friend and mentor smile, nobody else would call it a smile by the broadest stretch of the imagination, because he never smiled in the normal sense of the word.

Most of the time his face was set in a scowl, usually reserved for anything he found unpleasant or anything that angered him. The rest of the time his face had the look of grim determination.

You had to know what to look for.

In the case of the large, powerfully built, quiet man, the indicators were eyebrows raised just enough so the facial muscles relaxed and the corners of his mouth arched ever so slightly upwards so as to give him the look of tired neutrality to a stranger. Anyone who knew him well enough saw it for what it was.

"Oracle 1, This is Bat 1, requesting a weather report." Though it was nearly impossible to tell through the comms frequency scrambling, the voice reminded them of everything from home. Contained in each word came warmth, dark humour and a certain amount of wild spirit that always raised theirs.

Many teams took great comfort from knowing that they were being "watched over." In a world with little hope or comfort to offer this was a great help to the men and women in the field. Knowing someone back home was looking out for them.

"Bat 1, this Oracle 1, dark night, I say again, dark night." The look the 2 men shared was enough to communicate that their day had improved. Every team had their own set of codes, dark night was the all clear. Meaning no red lights from endos, or searchlights from hunter-killers. In short, no machine presence in the sector.

"Copy that Oracle 1, Bat 1 out." The 2 men moved without sound, all but invisible, just another shadow in the night, communicating with hand signals as they went.

For Sergeant Major Bruce Wayne and Private Jason Todd, it was time to go home.