Greetings to you fellow authors and readers... Basilisk9466 here, exploring a new realm after recently gaining a Batman obsession. Hope you like what follows. Insert generic disclaimer here.
The explosion rattled not only the windows, but the entire buildings near the warehouse.
Smoke rose slowly, attracting attention from more than a few people. Police patrols paused, considering whether to investigate. Criminals quickened their step to get away.
Not that anyone investigated.
Wytech Industries did not appreciate investigations. Or interference of any kind.
Usually. Right now, the survivors would have been eager for someone to interfere.
A scream echoed out from among the collapsed pylons, a scream that spoke of painful death. Especially the way it abruptly cut off.
"Weird."
"You ever seen anything like this?"
"God no. Wish I hadn't seen anything like this now."
Gotham Police were used to a lot. The deathly grins of those poisoned by Joker Venom. The terrible hallucinations of Scarecrow's fear toxins. The horrific effects of Poison Ivy's more gruesome spores. The brutal injuries of those who went toe-to-toe with Croc.
This was worse.
All of the men and women that hadn't been killed in the detonation had been torn apart. With great artistry, as though whoever had done it had enjoyed the whole experience. Organs and blood decorated the charred and twisted metal.
"Sick."
The cowled figure looking down from a beam heartily agreed. Batman had seen more than most, but even this was worse than usual. With the arrival of another figure on the scene, he casually dropped to the ground. "Commissioner Gordon."
Gordon spun instinctively, and nodded. "Batman. Any ideas?"
"Something new," was the reply. "Not a style I recognise."
"I agree. If it were just one body, I'd say your average psychopathic murderer, nothing special. But we're dealing with dozens of bodies, and the business of the warehouse itself." The Commissioner sighed. "And Wytech have been unforthcoming, of course."
"As ever." Batman leapt back up to the collapsed rafters. "I'll look into it."
As he left the confused police behind, he noticed a strange set of slices in the metal. Like clawmarks.
"Cat?" he mused to himself. "No. Wrong size. And besides, mass carnage isn't your style... nor big explosions. I'd think Joker... but the killing isn't his style either."
He continued climbing up, thinking deeply.
Wytech was a major corporation in Gotham, but unlike Wayne Enterprises and its other competitors, it was distinctly silent. Few employers were local, and fewer still of those did more than move crates around. What was known was that it dealt heavily in armaments and military technology. Classified government deals galore from countries around the world.
So perhaps the warehouse had got on the wrong end of its own technology. Some kind of combat suit in the wrong hands.
It didn't bear thinking about. Someone with the firepower to destroy a military weapons warehouse, and with the temperament to kill with that kind of cruelty.
Harley Quinn sighed, bored. But she was a girl of her word, and the note had promised interest. Or at least more interest than Puddin' had in store, seeing as he was in one of his moods again. She took it out, read it again. "'East side, Warehouse 4-Alpha. Eight o'clock. Be there, and you'll learn something interesting...' Better be interesting, mysterious note writer."
She ambled through the streets, chattering idly to herself. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... S! Street. Yep. I spy is so boring by yourself... wish Red were here..."
"Wish granted."
Harley squeaked eagerly as Poison Ivy stalked out of another alleyway. "Red! Watcha doin' here?" Then she registered the sign above her friend. 'Warehouse 4-Alpha'. "Hey, did you send me that note? But Red, if ya wanted to see me, why didn't you just tell me instead of all the theatrics?"
Ivy shook her head, puzzled. "Someone sent me a note... thought it was you, seeing as you're here."
"And don't blame me, either." With a light spring, the dark, eared figure of Catwoman landed a few metres away. "Someone's lured us all here."
There was silence for a moment, then each reached for their weapons of choice. Then they spun.
Batgirl hurriedly raised her arms. "Hey hey hey hey... relax!" The sight of the miniature crossbow, the whip and the gun all aimed simultaneously at her was far from relaxing. "I got called here as well."
"Why do I doubt that?" said Ivy waspishly. "Seems too convenient. The three of us turn up here... then you do."
"Not her style," said Catwoman. "Come on, we've worked together before, the four of us."
"Not sure I'd call it working together. That was a truce," Batgirl shot back.
"I would!" said Harley, grinning. "After all, we aaaaaaaaaaall kept our promises there. We handed ourselves in at the end, didn't we? After ya caught that ice lady?"
"Ok, let's focus." Ivy lowered her wrist. "Assuming that we're all here, what do we have in common? How did we all get our notes?"
"Pinned to my door. With some kind of dart," Harley piped up.
Everyone nodded in agreement. Then Ivy frowned. "Batgirl... which door?"
Batgirl blinked, nonplussed. "What do you... oh. OH."
"Whoever sent us this knows your identity," concluded Ivy with a faint smirk. "And you call yourself a crime fighter. Can't even deduce that little fact without help."
The comment was ignored, as Batgirl pondered this. "I can't think of... I don't get it. Who would go to this much trouble?"
Thunk.
Harley carefully plucked the little dart out of the ground, testing the point and whimpering, sucking her finger. Poison Ivy made an exasperated sound and took the dart from her, examining it. "Same kind." She pulled a little slip of paper from it. "Same handwriting, too. 'Go into the warehouse.'"
"Uh. Red. Suddenly I don't think this is a good idea." Harley glanced around, trying to see where the dart had come from. "There's something very wrong here. That warehouse belongs to some big weapons company. Feels like a trap Mr J might lay."
Batgirl's stomach lurched. "Which company?" But she already knew. The large, stylised 'WI' told her what she needed to know. Not the friendly symbol of Wayne Enterprises, but the aggressively impersonal Wytech. "You girls do know what happened to the last Wytech warehouse in this side of town?"
Ivy and Catwoman nodded tersely. Harley just looked puzzled. "Puddin' didn't tell me nothin' about any warehouse."
"It got blown up, Harley my dear," said Ivy. "Blown to scrap metal, and the survivors killed horribly."
"So... even if this isn't a trap... we might get killed by whoever did that... by accident?" Harley gulped. "Not good."
"Give us some credit." Catwoman casually flicked her whip. "Between us, we're not a bad fighting force. Two of us have done a lot of damage to the cops, I've fought Batman to a standstill a few times... and you, Batgirl, are no weakling."
"Thanks," Batgirl muttered. "So kind."
"Anyway... no one likes competition... or at least unknown competition. I say we go in and check it out. And if it's innocent, then we lose nothing."
"When did you become so forward, Cat?" said Harley.
Catwoman just grinned, and flashed her claws. "I didn't suggest we go in the front door." She latched onto the concrete wall of the warehouse, and began climbing.
Then was a general shrug. "She's got a point," said Batgirl. A moment later, she vanished skyward on a grapple. Harley and Ivy looked at each other.
"How do we get up, Red?"
Ivy pulled a seed out of a pocket, and lightly tossed it onto the wall. It fell to the ground... and erupted into a vine clambering up the concrete, with stiff leaves for footholds. "Let's take the green option." She scrambled up it, closely followed by Harley.
"Hey! Ma'am! Ma'am, you can't come in here..." The policeman hurried over to the thickly-coated figure picking its way through the wreckage of the warehouse. Then froze as the woman turned to face him.
"I can do what I like," she growled. The laser beam glare pinned the officer like headlights on a rabbit, then turned back to survey the melted beams. An ID was thrust in front of the shocked policeman. Although calling it an ID was overgenerous. It was simply what looked like two Greek letters, black with silver highlights.
"Ah. I, uh, see." The officer swallowed. "This is still a crime scene. I'll have to check with the sergeant. And... I'll need a name."
"Do as you wish. And you may call me Atropos." She stalked into the remnants.
"Please, Miss Atropos..."
Without turning her head, her arm snapped out to grab him by the throat. "Just. Atropos." The coat sleeve was drawn back, and what looked much like a demonic set of scissors snapped out from its sheaths – razor-edged triple blades both above and below her wrists, curling around his neck and lightly touching each other. Her hand withdrew, just leaving the blades grasping him. One twitch of the machinery would neatly decapitate the unfortunate man.
He whimpered.
"You know what? I changed my mind," Atropos purred. "I'd rather not have it known that I'm poking around. Plus, you pissed me off. Made me reveal my weapons. Tut tut. Can you keep a secret?"
The policeman nodded slightly, his Adam's Apple bobbing.
"Good. A man who can keep a secret, always useful. And you know what they say. Quiet in life... silent in death." There was a horrible shnikt.
She dropped the headless body and wandered into the wreckage, an electric current snapping through the blades to clean them before they withdrew to their sheaths. "One cut police officer," she whispered. "Cover me."
The radio concealed in her coat pocket buzzed. "Copy, Atropos. Carpho will deal with it. Any sign of it?"
"Negative. This is Clotho's job, not mine, I'm no good at this."
"Atropos, Clotho's not expendable enough. If the target is present, she wouldn't stand a chance."
Atropos gave an irritated sigh and strapped on a set of goggles, prowling through the columns.
The security guard fell, senseless. Ivy caught him and neatly dumped in a corner to sleep until the pollen dust wore off.
"All clear?" said Harley from a shadow, far too loudly. She promptly covered her mouth. "Oops."
Cha-CLICK.
The sound of an automatic rifle being cocked can sound very loud. Ivy slowly raised her hands, silently promising Harley punishment for that slip-up. The strangled sound that followed made the temptation to turn around too great, though, and she did so.
Catwoman sighed, and stalked over to the pair, staying away from the railings that separated the walkway from the long drop to the ground. "Do you know how long it is since I actually had to knock someone out?" she whispered. "God, I feel so unprofessional."
The faint whirring of a batarang announced the arrival of Batgirl, and her disarmament of another security guard. A moment later, she joined them, a faint I-can't-believe-I'm-doing-this grin on her face.
"Why would this note-writer set up a meeting inside an occupied warehouse?" mused Harley, keeping her voice quiet this time. "Not that smart."
"Could be a test," said Ivy thoughtfully. "Making sure we can actually get past these thugs."
"Or a trap," pointed out Batgirl cheerfully. "We all get lured in here to some gruesome fate at the hands of some mobster. And, not to put too fine a point on it, girls, I'm the only one who can call on reliable backup."
She wilted under various glares. "Just saying," she muttered. "I've got Batman on my side. What have you people got?"
Harley raised her gun. "Can I shoot her now?"
Thunk. Another dart buried itself in the metal wall, and Catwoman tactfully pushed the gun down while reaching for the little thing. "Quinn, however abrasive her way of saying it, Batgirl has a point. Let's just stay friendly until we find our contact. Let's see... 'Down two floors. Room 8. Bring popcorn.'" She blinked at the last.
"Popcorn?" Harley echoed. "I don't have any on me. Should I go grab some?"
Batgirl ignored her, looking carefully at where the dart should have come from. It was impossible to see in the low light, and by the time she had her night-vision goggles on, there was nothing. "Hard customer to follow. Guess we go down two floors."
After a moment's thought, the four silently converged on a ladder set in the wall. Going over the railings was liable to make you an easy target for the guards.
Catwoman went first, but it was Harley who discovered the body with the finely tuned awareness of corpses that being around them in the company of the Joker tended to bring on. She nudged it with a toe, then a finger. "Think he's dead," she remarked softly.
"I know he's dead," said Ivy curtly. "If he isn't, he's the first man I've ever known who can survive with his head twisted around like that. Looks like our friend has been doing some work for us."
More bodies littered the path to the indicated room, all apparently killed by something both strong and stealthy. The expressions of shock were a good sign that no one had expected their fates. By the time they came to a halt in front of 'Room 8', even Harley's normal bouncy personality had dropped several notches to watchful wariness.
It was Batgirl who broke the silence in the end as they stared at the door. "I guess we go in. All this killing means that I for one can't turn back without breaking my duty to Gotham."
"So noble," said Ivy. The remark broke some of the tension, and all four had to stifle giggles. It wasn't funny, but the prospect of facing this assassin was stressful, to say the least.
Finally, Harley couldn't take it. With a wound-up battlecry, she charged in, pistol aiming in all directions. A moment later, Ivy leapt in, crossbow ready.
The room was empty save for a large projector screen. Harley laughed a little sheepishly. Then the projector screen lit up, and something whirred theatrically.
"Greetings to you four..."
The screen showed a darkened room. At the centre was a barely visible figure, female judging by the voice. No other details could be picked out. Harley leapt into one of the chairs arranged in front of the screen, followed rather more sedately by her companions.
"No doubt you are wondering why you are here. I'll keep it short. I took out any guards that might run into you, but no sense in taking chances. And don't bother trying to find me. By the time you're watching this, I'll be long gone."
The figure sat back on a chair, obscuring her outline further. "My name is Needle. It's a name you'll probably know quite well before long. I intend to get a reputation, if you know what I mean. Now let me tell you a story. It's a good one, 'cos it involves the five of us."
The image switched to a security camera feed. On it, the unmistakeable figure of Poison Ivy was fleeing from an alleyway, grasping a large crate with the distinctive WI symbol. Clouds of spores drifted over the truck that it had apparently been stolen from, the guards apparently incapacitated by them.
"Got a bit of a grudge against Wytech, don't you, Poison Ivy? Can't blame you. It's a horrible company." The voiceover gained an amused edge. "You didn't quite pull this raid off, though, did you?" A caped black figure dived into the camera's view. The ensuing fight between Ivy and Batgirl played out, with Ivy finally withdrawing with the aid of more spores when Wytech guards stormed into the street to recover the crate. "Interesting side-effect you had, though. All kinds of wonderful genetic material that took an interest in your spores... and melded with them."
The view changed, now monitoring the inside of a factory. The purple-suited figure of the Joker was stalking through it, laying waste with a machine-gun and laughing maniacally. A pause, as the Joker yelled some order, and Harley Quinn scampered into the room, reeling out a length of wire. Smoke bloomed from off the screen, then an explosion. "Thanks to your exploits, Harley Quinn..." 'Needle' continued, "A lot of chemicals got mixed. Fortunately for Wytech, they were meant to be mixed, but not yet... so they got a bit rushed. Bear with me, this tale's nearly done."
The screen changed again. This time it was a still, a blurred image of a dark shape escaping through the window of a mansion. "You lit the blue touch paper, Catwoman. Stealing a very valuable artefact from the collection of a woman who just happened to be on the technology board of Wytech Industries."
It returned to the shadowed figure in the chair. "Put it all together, and what do you get? An experiment done ahead of schedule, with contaminated genetic material, prematurely mixed chemicals, and intended to create a hunter to deal with the pesky thief. So you see, my pretties..." Needle laughed. It was a laugh that had definite predatory edge, with oddly seductive undertones, the laugh a big cat might make. "I owe my life to you four. If it hadn't been for you, and the experiment had gone according to plan, I would probably have died in the process. So this is a little thank you."
The figure leaned forward and seemed to grin. "I owe you all a favour. Except you, Batgirl. Before I left the Wytech warehouse that created me, I had a look through their database. Amazing what they know. Like who our masked crimefighters are. I think not revealing your identity to the world at large is a pretty good favour, don't you?"
She giggled, and the giggling continued until the film finished a few moments later.
Predictably, it was Harley who broke the silence. "Aww, is it over?"
Batgirl was out of her seat without seeming to move. "I need to go. Right now."
Ivy stood up at a much more leisurely pace. "Scared?"
"No," the other lied. "But I need to warn the others. It's all very well for you people, but we rely on our disguises."
"Yes, yes. You run along." Ivy just smirked as Batgirl fled. "Come on, Harley. We should make a swift retreat as well. You doing anything? Mistah J got any plans?"
"Not that I know of, and don't take that tone talking about him!"
Catwoman was the last one left in the room, tuning out the fading argument between the self-styled Queens of Gotham. Although you wouldn't know it from her agility, she wasn't that young, and the voice of experience was screaming warnings.
Needle, whoever she was, was going to cause trouble.