Chapter Two: Get Back On Course
The intruder did not move from behind the floored Plastic Man. "I am honored to meet you," he said.
With self-appreciation he introduced himself. "I am Miguel Florencio de la Fuerza. I am captain of the President's Elite Guards."
Bruce had heard of him; hand-to-hand combat specialist, brilliant man-hunter, … but also an overly cruel interrogator.
"When I heard that you might be here, I took the assignment of overseeing the battle myself. I wanted to see you. In Venezuela, I am as feared as you are in your country. Only I do not use a mask. I enjoy the terror in my opponent's face when he sees mine.
"But I digress. I came to look upon the man who was beyond his peers, so much like myself."
"That's your third mistake," Batman said stonily. "I am like no one else. We are as comparable as an eagle is to a gnat. And guess who the gnat is."
The reply visibly disturbed the captain for a fleeting moment. After a halfhearted chuckle, the intruder continued.
"I think you view yourself a bit grander than reality reveals; but given your reputation, it is understandable. "
Batman looked down into Pat O'Brian's shades and asked, "Are you going to get up or are you trying to warm up the floor with your butt?"
Oh no."—Pat closed his left fist and directed the hand's thumb towards the dangerous figure behind him— "Manny the Menace said 'Freeze.' So long as he's holding the pop-pineapples, I'm freezing…. Not that I want to give you the impression that I'm cold, but—"
"I get the drift," Batman replied with a hint of annoyance.
"Murcielago," the captain said with equal irritation. Bruce rightly had him pegged as an attention-seeking primo donna. The American Legend should be centered on the threat that de la Fuerza posed, not the buffoon on the floor.
Miguel tilted his head slightly to the side and added, "You said my … third mistake, hmm? Please tell me what you perceive as my first and second."
"Coming here. Then believing that you hold an ace-in-the-hole that can pressure me into negotiations. The reality is, you don't even have a sliver of a chance to get me to regard you as highly as a quickly passed gas in the midst of a tornado."
"You really, really, think me so inferior?" The intruder's head bobbed twice emphasizing the words, "really."
Batman had to rethink his approach. He meant every word that he said, but perhaps it wasn't wise to push it. Attacking the man's ego was intended to anger him enough to force him into making a mistake; a mistake which Bruce would capitalize upon quickly. But they don't make elite guards like they used to, evidently. This Miguel fellow was getting overly flustered. While the man held grenades in his hands, Bruce thought it wise to say nothing more.
But Plastic Man didn't see it that way. He interjected himself, saying, "I think he's right when he said you overshot your target, Bats. The guy's a genius."
Batman scowled down at the red-clad Pat O'Brian.
Still sitting on the kitchen floor with his legs in an 8:20 split (if he was a clock, that is), Pat continued. "He came to the back door in a beat-up poncho saying that he was hiding from the fight and he was hungry.
"I let him in and gave him a half an orange that was on the table. But he didn't grab the orange. He grabbed my wrist and judo-flipped me. Boy, he sure out-smarted me."
Everything inside of Bruce wanted to yell, "A block of wood could out-smart you, you imbecile!"
He instead responded in an even tone. "Perhaps, when faced with a diversion from an established plan, you should first consult an experienced League member."
Plastic Man nodded his head like a bobble-head doll. Then his eyes turned to examine the fruit that was inches from his face. The captain felt the suppressed anger in the masked crusader. He decided to return the favor of stoking an angry flame. Miguel's fingers released the grenade rings long enough to pat the seated imbe—eh, hero's head.
"There, there. Murcielago has a very nast—"
Suddenly, Plastic man let out a yell and his elastic neck shot his head up like a bullet. The back of his skull struck the elite guard's face. The nanosecond of surprise was all that Batman needed to snatch the grenades away and toss them into the room behind him.
Batman and Miguel Florencio dela Fuerza instantly erupted with a storm of martial arts attacks and deflections.
"Sorry," Plastic Man said from somewhere in the room. "I bit into the orange and the acidy juice got into my eye."
Inside of 20 seconds, Batman was gaining dominance in the fight. The blood rushing from Miguel's nose wasn't as troublesome as the blood spilling from a gash on the right side of his forehead. The life-liquid was blinding the eye underneath the wound. Bruce had to wait just a little longer. His opponent's vision concern and his newfound doubts about besting the Dark Knight were distracting, making him careless. Bruce knew that the opening for the knockout punch would soon come. But then, the unexpected occurred.
Suddenly, the elite guard fell backwards, hitting his head hard on the kitchen floor. Bruce looked at the man's raised feet and found Pat's back under them. The intruder had tripped over Plastic Man, who had been on his hands and knees. Plastic Man's upper body then sprang up straight. The fruit was in his right hand.
"I found it," he said turning to Batman with a wide smile. "I thought I had lost the orange."
Pat turned to the grimacing Miguel on the floor and began to express his excitement over his tracking skills, but stopped. He turned back to Batman as if he remembered the dire circumstance of the moment. "Oh," Pat said.
He then wrapped his fingers around the elite guard like a rope, pinning Miguel's arms to his torso.
"You might want to use the tablecloth over there to tie 'em up. My fingers might get a bit tired."
Batman turned the man onto his stomach and began to twirl the table cloth to fashion a lumpy cord. He tied Miguel's wrists close to his bound ankles and still had enough material to gag the man's mouth. All the while he was binding his opponent, Batman stared at the probationary Leaguer. O'Brian was constantly mucking the waters when he was sent on a League mission.
Clark had always backed up Bruce in the League meetings. To repay him, Bruce withheld his veto when voting to accept Plastic-Imbecile into the famed group. Bruce okayed a 9-month trial membership for O'Brian. Throw Clark a bone, he thought. The next time he throws Clark a bone, it'll be aimed straight at that thick skull of his. Damn it, Diana better set the guy straight and make him toilet-flush his Pollyanna view of losers.
"Well, at least we got everyone," Pat concluded as he opened the kitchen door to the outside again. "I mean if Supes and Wondy ditched the battle hounds and this spying guard dude escaped their notice, the children would still be danger, right? He'd signal when the army could come back."
Batman wondered, where did that thought come from? Was O'Brian really a brain-float? Or was this fool in full possession of his faculties? Is it possible that he only fouled things up when he found an assignment too easy? Was complicating things a way to entertain himself before delivering the hammer-blow? Whether he was a bungler or just bored, Bruce would still have to talk with him before his next assignment.
"Okay Plastic," Bruce said after securing the fallen foe. He walked over to Pat, who was looking at the mountainside. "Go outside and see if there are any more stragglers. Do nothing, but alert me if there are."
With that, Bruce pushed hard on Plastic Man's back. When he managed to stop his forward movement, Plastic Man turned to say something to the senior member of the Justice League. Unfortunately, Batman had quickly closed the door behind him.
Bruce picked up the grenades from the living room floor on his way to the front foyer. "Is the area secured, Superman?" he asked through his transmitter.
"I'm coming back from depositing that last of them, Batman."
Bruce opened the double doors to look out. On the neglected road he saw Diana standing a distance from the Orphanage. She was a lovely contrast to the damaged surroundings.
Then the sun peeked through the clouds. The rays revealed a long thin shadow proceeding from the roof and stretching towards Wonder Woman. Bruce instantly knew that the idiot was checking out Diana from the rooftop.
"Plastic, your location," Bruce transmitted.
"Just surveying the area, Señor Serious. And it looks very well formed and attractive."
Diana interrupted, "You had well be speaking about the landscape, Mr. O'Brian. Because if you're referring to something else, I'll shove your rear down your throat, making you not well formed at all. I could include that I'll make you 'not the slightest bit attractive,' but Mother Nature has already beaten me to it."
The thin shadow retreated quickly before the clouds hid the sun again.
"Plastic," Bruce said, "I will speak to you about decorum over the airwaves. Diana, you already know about our professional standards— please remain focused."
Batman added, "Plastic, go inside and lead the children down, please."
Bruce swept his eyes from left to right. The silence was appreciated. Just then Superman landed by Diana. She turned to him and reciprocated his goofy smile. Bruce released a moan— the sun had broken through a small portion of the clouds and bathed the two figures in a spotlight.
"Oh, spare me," Bruce said with a shake of his head. "This is too corny, too stupid to be happening."
Bruce took his high powered Bat-noculars out of his utility belt. He not only needed to look beyond the sickening scene in front of him, but he needed to check something out.
Diana tore her eyes away from Super-Stud long enough to spot it. She pointed and said, "U.N. Convoy at one o'clock."
"Wonderful," Bruce said sarcastically. "Brave U.N. Peacekeepers finally come out of hiding when the shooting stops."
The six trucks advanced slowly from between the boulders and bushes and towards the heroes.
"I'll meet them," Diana said intending to snidely return his remark. "I would ask you to do it, but the League has a professional code of conduct that excludes talking down to people."
Diana took Clark's arm and they walked towards the trucks. She then addressed her close pal by his Kryptonian name—as if that was a sign to Clark's other friend that she was in Clark's inner, INNER circle.
Perhaps there was a special honor to that. When she figured it out, she should tell someone… who actually cares.
"Kal, tell me more about your Grandmother, Linda."
Bruce felt a small case of annoyance coming on. Clark had better not mention anything about Aruba.
"Well she always said, that you need to pay attention to signs that you're getting old. Every part of your body hurts and whatever doesn't hurt, you forgot what it's used for, anyway. You sink your teeth into a steak and they stay there. If you forget where you put your glasses, you don't even look for them. By the time you find your glasses you're too tired to read, anyway.
"My Grandma said that an old appearance can help your memory. One day she was combing her hair in front of the mirror and she stopped to stare into her face. She suddenly remembered, "Hmm, I forgot to eat my prunes this morning."
Wonder Woman was loudly enjoying every second of the nonsense that granny passed on to her twit grandchild. Bruce wasn't. Just as he was about to tell them to turn off their communicators, Diana turned towards Bruce's direction and asked, "Kal, isn't that so lovely?"
