Batman Beyond

Issue #4

"Agent of the Bat: Part Four (Conclusion)"

Written by D. Golightly

Night in Gotham City is never as innocent as it looks. With the brilliant lights of the buildings spread throughout, it's amazing if a person can find a dark shadow to hide behind. But, if you know where to look, the shadows can provide a blanket that makes a man invisible.

The Batman carefully moved beneath the lip of the roof, on an edge just narrow enough for him to crawl on. The building he had silently stalked to was the holding pen for Gotham's recently arrested criminal element. The city had grown so massive over the decades, and crime so rampant, that GCPD precincts were forced to temporarily house their captured lawbreakers in these smaller jails until room opened up in the main prison. Across the alley was police headquarters, and when combined with the holding pen, created a campus of law enforcement.

"I'm not sure I need to do this," Terry McGinnis, the costumed Batman, whispered. A microphone in his facemask transmitted the message across the city to a sprawling labyrinth of caves beneath his employer's home. "We have enough information to move on this Winston Quetzal guy."

"The person masked as Azrael that you helped capture tonight could still provide move information," Bruce Wayne, the elderly man on the other end of the transmission, replied gruffly. "Find out what you can, but don't waste time. Quetzal needs to answer a few questions tonight too."

The Batman slipped to the far side of the building, away from prying eyes in the alley below, and attached a cable to the roof lip. Swinging free of the wall without fear of falling, he allowed the cable to support his weight as he hung upside down. The black and red of his suit concealed him as well as it could, although the passing moonlight might betray him.

Slowly, he manipulated the controls on his belt where the cable was attached to lower himself down the wall. He soon can to the first window, where he peered in to see the very man he was looking for: Douglas Trenton, also now known as Azrael.

Batman tapped on the glass. It was a few inches thick and reinforced to withstand a grenade blast. Which was fine. He only wanted to talk, and the suit would let him do that. Pressing his hand against the glass, Batman activated the mechanism that allowed him to hear through vibrations. When sound in the room pushed against the glass, the device would translate the pulses into audio. With a minor recent adjustment, he was now able to reproduce the process so that people in the room could hear him after the suit pulsated the glass. It would sound like an old radio to Douglas, but it would work for his purposes.

"Trenton," Batman said softly. The electronics in his fingertips pulsated and moved the glass. Inside the lonely cell, the young Douglas twitched and jerked awake. "Get up. We need to talk."

"What? Who?"

"Look up. I don't have a lot of time."

"You! Hey, you've got to tell the cops that I didn't do anything!"

Batman sighed. He knew that the kid had been brainwashed somehow, but that didn't change the fact that as Azrael he had still committed a murder. "Help me find Winston Queztal. He's the only one that can help explain to the police what happened."

"He never leaves the complex," Doug answered. "I've never seen him outside the office before. You can bet that he'll be there even now."

"Tell me what you remember before I found you."

"Nothing. Not really. Just that I went to see Mr. Quetzal and he had a job for me. I blacked out after that."

"Did that happen often?"

"I…well, not really. One other time I think. I don't know. Maybe. Why? It's hard to remember."

"The information I've found on you doesn't say anything about combat training. When we fought you obviously had experience fighting. Some of the things you did are world class."

Douglas scratched his head and sat down on the cot. "So, you're saying what…that I'm some kind of sleeper assassin? Do you think you could tell the cops that? That might get me out of here."

"I think they would rather here it from Quetzal. Just stay put. I'll get to the bottom of it."

Douglas called to him not to leave as he ascended back toward the roof, but he ignored the request. He felt for him, sensing that they were kindred spirits, of a sort. After he met with Quetzal, maybe he could help Douglas out, but for now he was on his own.

"Hey, Batman! Don't go! C'mon, you've got to talk to the cops for me!"

Batman's dark figure swept above his window, leaving Douglas alone. He was confused, alone, and scared. He appreciated that the urban myth, Batman, had offered to help, but he much preferred something more proactive. He couldn't sit in prison. He needed to get out.

He sat down on his cot, rocking back and forth slowly, trying to think. His thoughts were coming to him in a strange way ever since Batman had ripped the mask of Azrael off of his head. He saw things differently, and it scared him. When he looked at a person all he saw were ways he could hurt them. Ways to make them suffer. Ways to make them pay.

It was this…System. He knew that was what it was called. He didn't understand how it operated, but he knew that it had something to do with the brainwashing he had apparently gone through. Quetzal had the answers, so he had to get out of here.

He looked at the door to his cell. Soon the guards would come for him to transport him to the actual prison. The security would be much tighter then. He would have to act fast.

The gentle hum of the Batmobile rocketed across the Gotham skyline. With his suit connected to the controls, it moved almost effortlessly. The screen, dosed in shades of red, highlighted a single building in a brooding green. He angled the airship to head straight for the targeted building, making sure to avoid any possible source of detection, which included radar.

Upon reaching the building, Batman yanked back on the controls and vertically traced the side of the Gotham branch of the Q Society. This was where Winston Quetzal would be hiding. The sooner he got it inside and found out the connection between Azrael, the Q Society, and the reason for Bruce Wayne's attempted murder, the better.

Batman tapped the controls and set the Batmobile on autopilot. He slapped the harness keeping him tightly bound to the seat, releasing the belts, and let himself fall out of the bottom hatch that had opened. As the vehicle careened straight up, Batman shot out at a perpendicular angle and smashed through a window on the sixteenth floor.

Glass scattered everywhere and Batman tucked himself into a ball. He rolled onto the floor, breaking his own fall expertly. The large room was dark and quiet, devoid of life. It looked like a filing area where computer banks were stored, housing company information.

Fairly soon his dramatic entrance would call whatever security the place had to come to his location. That's what he wanted. Bruce would have scouted around for a few hours before making himself known, but Terry couldn't operate that way. He was barely able to stay awake as it was, and too much time had been wasted already.

The blades that Azrael had used during their fight seemed to be very similar in technology to what had been shot at Bruce Wayne. It was further proof that someone from the Q Society had it in for the old man, but they still didn't know why. If what Bruce had told him about the Q Society buying out the Order of St. Dumas, showing that just about anything could be bought, then so far that was the only connection. Motive, however, was proving elusive. At least until Batman found Mr. Quetzal.

The rows upon rows of computer banks were lined up and down the large room. Batman stalked between them, waiting for his presence to be acknowledged. Within a few moments, the door slid open and he heard the unmistakable sound of whirling motors approach.

"Droids," he muttered with a smile. "Fun."

Two android security guards rolled into the room, each balanced on one wheel. Their twin arms raised toward Batman, who quickly somersaulted to the side and away from their weapons line of sight. The droids, not as quick, fired twin arcs of blue lightning that danced up and down the towers of computer banks. The droids dragged their streams of raw energy across the room, tracking Batman as he ran around to flank their position.

One of the computer terminals exploded, surprising Batman and making him stumble. He tucked his legs up and rolled with the fall, barely missing being singed by the arcs of electricity. Reacting with the training that had been drilled into him by his mentor, Batman flicked his wrists and a pair of red and black batarangs sliced through the air, lodging into the droids.

The unmistakable sound of whirling motors was replaced with the relieving thud of the metal droids hitting the floor, deactivated from having their robotic heads sliced off. "Always good for a work out," Batman said with a sneer.

"Or a distraction," a new voice from behind him said.

Before Batman could react, an arm reached out from the shadows and pressed a stun gun against his back, knocking him unconscious.

Terry woke up from feeling something slap him across the face. He was dizzy and disoriented. The first thing that came to mind was that the stun gun used to subdue him must have had one powerful charge behind it if the suit hadn't protected him. Without its protection he probably would have died.

Another slap on the other side of his face helped him push the grogginess further away. "I need you awake, you imbecile!"

Batman shifted to move away from the man in front of him, but for the second time that night he found himself dangling upside down. This time, however, was not by his choice. His arms were lashed behind his back and despite the strength his suit offered, he found that he couldn't break free of the bonds.

"Ah, finally awake."

Batman tilted his head back to get a full view of his captor. "Winston Quetzal I presume," the vigilante responded.

"You even pronounced it correctly. I applaud you."

Standing nearly as tall as Terry, Quetzal had dark skin with dark hair. He appeared to have been of South American decent, which given his surname, Batman assumed was true. His accent placed him somewhere in the Brazil area, although since Bruce hadn't enforced that particular part of his studies he couldn't be sure.

Quetzal took a few steps back and shook the hand he had been slapping his prisoner with. "That mask of yours provides a decent amount of protection. Like armor."

"You look like you know something about armor yourself."

Quetzal sneered and vaguely waved at the white and yellow costume he wore. "This? Then you recognize the design. The legendary hero Aztek wore something similar."

Around his waist, Quetzal wore a golden belt that was bulbous near the front. A pair of golden gauntlets adorned his fists, shiny and pristine. Behind him, Batman could see a gold helmet with braids extending from the top. He recalled hearing about the hero called Aztek, and there was a mention of him in the files that Bruce had been looking at on the screen back in the cave in reference to the Q Society.

"Aztek was meant to stop a coming evil," Winston explained as he paced around Batman. "But that evil never came. It was a fool's belief, a belief that many others were proud to follow. Much like the Order of St. Dumas."

Terry manipulated his gloves from the inside, sending commands to his visor. He quickly overlaid the green skeleton that he had the computer composite earlier, the grid-print of Bruce Wayne's attacker, over the visual of Winston Quetzal. The screen inside his visor moved the image overtop of Winston and chirped with satisfaction as it showed a one-hundred percent match. Batman had finally found the man that had tried to kill his mentor.

Now that he had another piece of the puzzle fit into place, he had to keep the man talking. "I suppose you can buy religion just like anything else," Batman said.

"Right again. My father purchased their sacred Order in an attempt to revitalize the success of the Q Society. After Darkseid unleashed his wave of destruction, and the fourth-dimensional mirror that powered the Aztek armor was destroyed, we needed to find new followers. New hope."

"New suckers."

Winston sneered again, this time with all of his teeth showing. "I learned the Order's secrets. I learned of their private assassin named Azrael and the technique they used to create him. It's called the System, and it's a quite remarkable way to brainwash someone. That insolent intern proved to be a quick study, whether he knew it or not."

"But why? What did you stand to gain from all this? Why kill off your own executives or make an attempt on Bruce Wayne, who isn't even a member of your company? Why send Azrael when you could have done it yourself?"

"There's money to be made in being a hero."

Quetzal stepped across the room and slipped his helmet on. It clicked into place, sealing off his bodysuit from the rest of the room and locking him inside. "Azrael will prove the perfect crazed enemy. I disposed of my executives that knew too much of the project, as well as anyone who knew too much about the Azrael conditioning. Bruce Wayne was a minor casualty as his name popped up all over the Order's database. I have no idea why. It seems that they were keeping tabs on him for some reason for the Q Society acquired them."

"But you tried to kill Wayne yourself."

"Yes, Azrael wasn't quite ready yet. He had a few more sessions worth of the System to undertake and I didn't want to let my own armor go to waste. I admit, my aim was a bit off. But I won't make the same mistake twice. Once I kill you and set Azrael up to square off with me in public, I'll defeat him and announce Aztek's return to the modern world."

"How does that translate to money for you?"

"When the world sees a forgotten hero, proven true in the public eye by defeating a killer that even the great Batman couldn't contain, the Q Society will be flooded with grateful donations to support the cause. Aztek will become a new symbol. A corporate symbol."

"You're making a mockery of what a real hero is."

"No." Quetzal, or Aztek as he now appeared to be, adjusted his right gauntlet and aimed it at Batman. A thin sliver of material slipped out of the side and began to glow. It was the same rail gun that he had used to nearly kill Bruce. "A hero is only as good as the company behind him. This isn't the 21st century anymore, kid."

Batman, helplessly dangling by his feet, squirmed and tried to swing back and forth. Desperation was setting in. He had gone in alone. Next time, if there was a next time, he would tell Gordon where he was going. Even if they didn't see eye to eye on how to handle crime in Gotham, at least the Commissioner could provide back-up when it counted.

The door pounded open. Aztek pivoted on his one foot to see what the commotion was. One of the droids that had attacked Batman earlier flew inside the room, smashing against the wall.

"What the devil!" Quetzal screamed.

"Not devil. Angel."

Douglas Trenton bounded into the room, no longer held by the innocence in his eyes. Batman took advantage of the distraction and began swinging himself more dramatically, hoping to catch something in the room that he could prop himself up on. Meanwhile, Aztek turned his full attention to the intruder and would-be assassin, forgetting about the Dark Knight.

"Inscrutable fool!" Aztek exclaimed as he fired his rail gun at the young man. "I'm not ready to kill you yet!"

"Tough."

Doug bounded over the blast from the rail gun, avoiding the deadly shard of metal that had been energized. The conditioning he had undergone to become Azrael was unconscious, but somehow, perhaps through sheer willpower, Douglas had tapped into the System and bent it to his own needs. His agility was amazing as he weaved between each of Aztek's feeble ranged attacks.

Frustrated, Aztek smashed a stack of containers beside him with one blow, sending the round items sailing through the air. The bundle slammed into Doug, knocking him over. As well-versed as his unconscious mind was in maneuvering, there was simply no where to run to avoid the stack of containers.

Aztek towered over the fallen youth, aiming his rail gun at his head. "You broke out of prison. The police will be grateful when I return you to them and debut my presence to the world. In a way you've helped me. You saved me the trouble of breaking you out myself. Your skills are quite impressive. It's a shame that you'll have to die. What a waste."

"The only thing wasted here is your own future."

Aztek whirled just in time to see a black-gloved fist smash into his face. Despite the protection that his gold helmet offered, Quetzal stumbled back and tripped over Douglas from the momentum of the strike.

Batman stood over both of them, but his attention was directed toward Aztek. It had taken him a few moments to swing toward the far wall, and once he had been able to do that, his boot jets positioned him at the right angle to blast himself free of the binding cord that had been wrapped around him.

"I've radioed the GCPD. They're on their way. It's over, Quetzal. Your days of being a hero are finished before they can even begin."

Aztek leaned forward to stand up, but Batman placed a boot squarely on his chest, keeping him down. He stole a quick glance over at Doug, who was still breathing beneath the mess of canisters.

Batman had felt compelled to call the police, even though he didn't want to bother with them. This man, this disgusting pseudonym for the term 'hero,' had attacked the one man that filled the role of father in his life. But if there was one thing that Bruce had taught him, it was that personal vengeance would do little to aid his mission.

As he heard the sirens approaching from the distance, Batman knew that even though he had done the right thing by calling them, he would probably regret it for a long time.

"The case is over. Wrapped up. All in a nice package that I left for your boys."

Terry walked down the central path of the entrance to Gotham University. Dressed in his brown jacket and black slacks, he casually strolled down the outside entry to the college with a phone pressed to his ear.

"We've had this discussion before, McGinnis," a female voice said on the other end of the phone connection.

"And I've sure we'll have it again, Commissioner. But I'm not coming in for a statement. Quetzal is in your custody. That should be enough."

"I can't have vigilantes running around my city, McGinnis. I don't care what my own past is. I don't care about your boys' club or your do-gooder attitude. I've seen how it hurts people in the end. Trust me, kid, I'm doing you a favor by making sure you and I don't cross paths."

"Not a problem. Tell Quetzal I said hi."

Terry hung up and placed the miniature phone, which boasted a secure line, back into his pocket. He entered the main building of the university and prepared for class, sitting down in the back and making sure he hadn't forgotten his textbook like last time.

He anticipated what Gordon had said. She had said it before, and as he surmised, she would probably say it again. But that wouldn't stop him from continuing the mission that another had started before him. Bruce Wayne had taught him everything he knew, and an important lesson was that there would always be a need for Batman.

Just as Terry leaned back in his chair, the teacher walked in and ordered the class to quiet down. He said something about their physics lesson for that day, which illicited a moan from the class as a whole. But Terry wasn't paying attention. His focus was attuned to another in the class, a special student in much the same way that he was special.

The teacher began lecturing, and within the first minute, Douglas Trenton raised his hand and asked a question. Terry had made sure that the police never found him at the scene when they came for Quetzal. Doug had potential. Perhaps as an alley in the future. Whatever the youth's future held, he didn't deserve to be in prison. He had been brainwashed and Terry couldn't willingly hand him over to the authorities again.

Bruce instructed him to watch Douglas carefully in case he had a breakdown. According to his mentor, those that underwent conditioning with the System sometimes lost touch with reality. Terry wasn't worried. He knew about second chances and how valuable they were.

A second chance, even if a person didn't know they were getting it, was more precious than just about anything that Terry could think of.

Beyond the Issue

Well…it's been over a year since the last issue. I could say I'm sorry, but would it matter? I mean…it's fanfic.

Even still. Sorry!

Terry McGinnis is a great character and maybe I'll come back to him someday. It's very possible, as I would really like to set up this shadowy dynamic between the new Azrael and Batman. Hell, I even have plans for a new Oracle and a new Robin. But, it's going to be awhile, if EVER, that I get to them.

I guess I'm saying don't hold your breath. This is the end.

For now.

-D. Golightly

11/4/08