Chapter 10

Starfire watched gleefully as the white-topped mountains passed by slowly. The car flew low through the jagged range, simply at her request. Nightwing didn't even glance out the window. The red-haired alien, however, couldn't get enough of the view.

They had left the City limits and into the yet untamed mountain range known as the Senendrins. Long known for their majestic heights and dipping, lush valleys, the Senendrins was a famous getaway for the wealthy. Light danced off the turquoise waters of long, deep lakes. Thick, old alien trees swayed in the wind, their tops rippling like the ocean waves as the wind rustled through their leaves. Craggy, snow-topped mountains stood silently like long-dead rock giants of a bygone era. Flocks of strange birds of a million, glittering colors spontaneously sprang from the trees as a single body whenever something disturbed their anxious, paranoid roosting. Rivers moseyed through eroded valleys like big, blue snakes, running themselves to the distant, vast oceans of the world. Canyons and cliffs jutted forward from steep slopes or hid behind green vegetation, their rocks proudly displaying reds, grays, browns, and earthy yellows. The world was timeless there, civilization seemingly shying away from the clear, raw beauty.

Starfire drank in the view as a parched man drinks water. "It is so…so…" She trailed off, as if completely overcome.

Nightwing glanced out the window for a moment before re-assuming his driving. "Buncha rocks, trees, and water. I don't really see the attraction. Now, back to what we were talking about." He tapped a few buttons on his steering wheel, bringing up a display of a man's face on the small computer screen imbedded into the passenger side dashboard. "Ferdanand DeCray, a rich, private benefactor to the Slade faction has come to the mountains with his friends for the long holiday weekend. I'm going to need you for this job, as it requires a bit of…espionage." He looked decisively uncomfortable. "Some of his friends are benefactors to our cause. I need you to lure him away from his associates and leave the rest to me."

Starfire sighed and slumped in her chair a bit. "Why not dispose of him before his friends?"

Nightwing clenched his jaw a bit. "No witnesses."

The alien shuddered at this. "Very well," she muttered quietly before turning back to the mountains. "Nightwing?"

"Yes?" came the curt reply. Nightwing was on the edge, for some odd reason.

"I was thinking of the night bef-"

"It didn't happened," interrupted the dark man. He sighed and turned the steering wheel slightly to the left. "And never will again," he muttered darkly to himself.

Starfire slouched a bit more. "Oh."

The countryside passed languidly by the windows.

----

"Finally," muttered a rather irate Nightwing as he stepped out of the car. Popping open the trunk, he pulled some duffel bags out. He sighed and walked into the small cabin that was going their home for the next day or so…maybe longer. Starfire was already gallivanting around, chasing alien moth-flies, examining leaves as if they were diamonds, and simply taking in the rugged beauty that was the country-side. Squealing happily, she nearly ran into Nightwing, who was opening the door to the cabin.

"Eeeee-Oop!" She stopped short of the dark man, and glanced into the cabin. It was not very spacious, but the furniture was set so that it seemed as if there was more room. The entire cabin nearly shouted rustic. Un-polished wooden rafters supported the roof. The support pillar looked more like a trunk of a tree. Furniture lined with twisted, polished maple, ash, and oak. Wooden floor beams gave a dull sheen in the bright afternoon light. The walls were paneled with pine and some form of alien rowan framed the windows. Even the large refrigerator was fashioned to look like old, weathered wood.

Starfire's eyes were practically dancing in glee. "Beautiful," she breathed softly before running inside, touching everything.

Nightwing sighed as he set the bags down and reached out for a light switch that wasn't there. He muttered something under his breath before calling for lights. They winked on. "Star, calm down, it's just a cabin. And we are not here to vacation."

The pretty alien turned slowly from the panoramic window displaying the sudden drop the cabin was precariously built on. Mountains upon mountains stretched out before them to infinity. Starfire cocked her head and quieted down swiftly. "Do you not feel the exuberating feeling of ecstasy at such a sight?" She waved a hand at the window.

Nightwing looked out the window, grunted, and then looked back down into the bag he was rummaging in. "Yeah, real pretty. Star, I'm not here for the view." He looked up suddenly. "And neither are you. Keep that in mind."

Starfire suddenly felt the impulse to lash out at the human. She nearly gasped in surprise at the feeling. Hanging her head, she let her red hair drape over her face as she nodded. "I know, but you can still enjoy the view."

Nightwing didn't reply. Hefting his metal staff from a custom carrying case, he strapped it to his back with a cord. "There's a country club about five minutes from here by car. Our target is staying there and is presumably under heavy guard. This normally wouldn't be a problem, but as I said before, I don't want to kill our own benefactors." He slipped a long knife and a pistol, which Starfire had never seen before, into his black coat. "I need you to infiltrate the party that's apparently being thrown there. Make yourself noticeable to the target," he threw a picture of DeCray at Starfire, "and lure him outside." He stood up, holding a somewhat revealing red dress. "Understand?"

Starfire stared in shock at the dress. "You expect me to dress myself in such lewd apparel? I believe you have finally lost your mind."

Nightwing scowled and threw the dress at her. "Not my decision. You wear it, you lure him, I kill him. Not hard." He pulled out a small C4 cartridge with a detonator, hmmed a bit, and then stuffed it into his clothes.

The alien simply stared at the dress in her hands…and shuddered. "Very well. But you will, will understand I will never do such a thing again."

The assassin frowned. "Just get in the dress." He glanced at his chronometer. "The party starts in three hours. I need to give you some pointers on what to say, how to walk, and so on" The dark man gave her a strong look. "And you will understand that I can't handle foul-ups. That's just my line of business." He waved at one of the two bedrooms, indicating she get ready.

Starfire sighed lightly before heading off to the room.

Nightwing simply pulled out his pistol, checked the sights, and glanced around. "Wood. Only the rich," he muttered fiercely.

----

Starfire stepped slowly out of the car, half-using flight to stay balanced on the ultra high-heeled shoes that were so popular in the fashion world. She smoothed out her velvety dress, trying desperately not to show off to much skin. The long dress was a retro throw-back of the early twenty-first century blended with early twentieth century elbow-length gloves. The sleeveless gown was long, almost reaching to the bottom of her heels. A large, purposeful slit in the dress exposed her leg, accompanied by gaps in one side of her dress, displaying her upper hip and some of her ribs. It was a tight, tight squeeze, even for someone as skinny as Starfire. Unseen, however, was a knife strapped to her inner thigh, just in case things became out of control. She was, after all, a young, unaccompanied woman in a chaos of drunken, rich, vacationing men. Oh yes, she might very well need the knife. She couldn't very well draw attention with shimmering orbs of heated energy.

Pasting a friendly smile on forcefully, she swayed slowly over to the door, which was opened by a teenager in a suit. No automatic doors here. The inside of the club was just as suspected. People squirmed and danced to retro-techno, desperately trying to keep their alcohol from spilling from long-fluted glasses. Men leaned suavely against walls, smiling flirtatiously and talking to giggling, air-headed women who apparently had nothing better to do but patronize their conversationalists. A bar stretched across the fall wall was crowded with chatting, laughing men, each holding various forms of intoxicating liquids of various different colors. Tables packed with rich business men were cluttered with plates of food in various stages of consumption. Busboys hurried to and fro like ants, dressed in their white, starched 'monkey-suits' as Nightwing had so blandly labeled them. All in all, a mass of dancing, writhing, drunken flesh.

Starfire scanned the room, her eyes flickering this way and that, slowly rolling over the phrases she had rehearsed with Nightwing in the car. Chitchat, flirtatious comments, and even a graceful hand movement or two. All for the sake of death. She shuddered internally.

DeCray was sitting calmly at a table, smoking an enormous, thick cigar, most likely imported illegally from Old Earth. He chuckled and smirked with the others at the table, his rolls of fat jiggling whenever he moved. Dull, black eyes stared out from deep sockets, bushy eyebrows scrunched in an eternal furrow of his brows. Thick, sausage fingers waved the cigar, his lips moving limply as he spoke his mind, which was quite often. Three empty plates flecked with bits of food and several empty glasses of wine were stretched out before him.

Starfire swallowed hard and began to move in his direction. She tried another smile. It came out forced, visibly strained. But she doubted any of these men would really notice in their fevered states. DeCray noticed her immediately. It was quite possibly the dress. Or her hair. His eyes wandered up and down her body hungrily, a lustful hint in his eye. Starfire nearly ran, but simply kept walking, hoping against hope that her joy of flight would not leave her to let her wobble along.

"Mr. DeCray?" She was rather startled her voice was so clear. She was also startled to see every eye around the table look up at her suddenly. Some grinned, some winked, all stared. Especially DeCray.

"Yes, my dear flower?" The alcoholic slur was audibly noticeable. "What can I do for you?" He continued to stare at her.

Starfire's mind kept telling her to run like crazy, but she stood her ground. "My name is Melanie Sylvia." She didn't look a bit Hispanic, but Nightwing was quite insistent on the name. "I'm from WNN and I wanted to interview you on your recent…" she faltered, forgetting her lines. "Um, your recent development of certain communities in the City." She gave a silent sigh of relief.

DeCray lifted a bushy eyebrow. "I see, my dear. Perhaps you would like to interview all of me?" He laughed at the joke. All of his friends joined in. The stench of alcohol suddenly flooded the immediate area.

Starfire, missing the jibe completely, nodded as she wrinkled her nose a bit. "Yes, that was the general idea."

The laughter stopped as DeCray looked up, a grin hovering on his lips. "I see, my dear. But what's in it for you?"

Starfire, now utterly confused, furrowed her eyebrows. "I believe I said an interview."

The fat, unsightly man shifted a bit in his seat, as if excited. "Is that all? Of course I'll give you the interview. Just name the place and time, my dear."

Starfire suddenly grinned in relief. "I supposed now would be a good time. And outside, in the porch. It is far more tranquil there."

DeCray looked confused. "Um, the porch? I see, but won't that be too public?"

Starfire cocked her head. "How so?" Her naïve nature practically glared at the men.

DeCray grabbed her wrist with a meaty hand. "Nevermind. Come on, sweetie. I'm make this an interview to remember." He led her to the porch, securely locking the door behind him. He turns around, his fat, limp lips smirking. The ungainly man slowly undid his tie. "Now, about that interview."

Starfire stared at him. "You have no need to undo your apparel."

DeCray slowly unbuttoned his shirt. "Nuh-uh, you aren't backing out of this." He shifted forward his hand reaching for Starfire hungrily. "You're mine tonight."

Starfire yelped lightly as his grubby, sweaty hand closed on her arm, pulling her closer. She didn't bother struggling, utterly confused. "Wh-what are you doing?"

DeCray's face melted into a sneer. "I'm taking you, girl."

The fat man suddenly jolted sideways as a fist plowed into his temple. He grunted in surprise before collapsing, senseless, against a metal and glass table. Nightwing stood glowering fiercely at the obese man. "You wanna touch her again, DeCray? Hmm?"

The business man put a hand to his temple, which throbbed unmercifully. He shook his head a bit, trying to clear the speckles of light dancing before his eyes. "Who-who are you?"

Nightwing's pole suddenly grew blades. He held it out before him, touching the man's Adam's apple. "You're executioner."

DeCray's eyes widened considerably. "You-you're from the Scaccarium faction." He pulled something out from under his coat. "I thought one of you would attack me." The fat man rubbed his head again as he fumbled with a small button. He pressed just as the blade sank into his hand. Yelling, he released the small remote as he clutched grubby fingers around the hole in his palm. Blubbering pathetically, he looked up at the dark assassin, pleading for his life with his eyes. Tears dripped like a mini waterfall off of his cheeks. "Please, please, please…" he simply repeats the word over and over. A swift thrust of the blade stopped the repetitive noise. Blood flew in an arc, splattering both Starfire and Nightwing.

Nightwing grunted in annoyance. "Wonderful."

Starfire, however, did not take it so well. The alien glanced down at the dress, which was completely covered in crimson liquid. Her breathing came in short gasps. "Bl-bl-blood…It's s-s-so…h-hot." She gulped hard, swallowing some blood which had seeped through her lips. The girl fell to her knees, gagged, retching.

The stolid assassin watched her for a moment before moving over and gently rubbing her back. However, he was taken by surprise as she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging fiercely. "Th-the blood…everywhere." She began to cry, crushing Nightwing's waist against her chest.

Nightwing was completely off guard. He didn't know what to do with the bloody, crying mess hugging him. He almost lost his head because of it. A curved blade sang through the air, ripping air towards his throat. Nightwing barely jumped with Starfire hanging on to him. He stumbled over her and fell, hard. The breath left him when he struck the ground, while Starfire suddenly realized something was going on and released him.

Leaping to his feet, he scooped up Starfire and ran without looking at his assailant. Nightwing ran straight into a copse of trees beyond the patio. Dodging the dark trunks with relative ease, he broke through to the other side quickly. Stopping suddenly, he muttered curses as he almost ran right off of a cliff into a churning river below. "Star, can you fly?"

Starfire looked dazed, still staring at her bloody hands. "F-fly? I don't believe…I can."

Nightwing cursed again, put her down gently, and turned on his heel to face his attacker. "Something tells me I really don't want to meet that guy head on. That stupid remote must've called him." There was a slight shudder as a tree suddenly fell over, cut clean through. Foliage rustled as a monstrous man stepped forward from behind the tree, grinning madly. Dressed completely in blood-red leather, the man made a formidable picture, his arms bulging with un-natural muscles. His face was covered in an iron mask of great thickness, ending on his upper jaw. Slits cut into the iron revealed two red-streaked, pulsating eyes. A large, double-sided scythe of immense size rested comfortably in his hands. He grinned wider when he saw Nightwing, chuckling hoarsely. "Buna Zeewa, Nenya Nightwing. I am Harvester. I am to kill you." The dark assassin stepped forward, continuing in a heavy Romanian accent. "I wait for this long time. Let me harvest soul of yours."

Nightwing clenched his teeth. "If you fight as well as you speak English, then I'm in the clear."

Harvester simply grinned and lumbered forward, swinging down powerfully. Nightwing barely had any time to throw up his pole in a desperate upward block. Steel met titanium in a clash of sparks. Harvester, still grinning in the clutches of insanity, pushed down harder, trying to force his opponent to the ground. He succeeded. Nightwing lost his footing and fell back, rolling to the side as he hit the ground. The glittering tip of the scythe sank into the soft earth where he was mere seconds before. Springing to his feet, Nightwing ran swiftly around the lumbering juggernaut, hoping for a clean stab in the back. He lunged, pole extended, his eyeband catching a bit of the failing light. "Gotcha," he murmured.

The pole sank into the leather…and stopped. Nightwing was brought to a shuddering, painful halt before slipping to the ground, pole following. He grunted in surprise.

The Harvester spun suddenly, scythe spinning madly. Nightwing barely had any time to dodge. The blades ripped through the twilight sky, whining metallically. Pain suddenly shot through his arm as he realized that he had not dodged fast enough. Nightwing glanced down to see blood bubbling softly from the clean slash in his arm. Scowling fiercely, he glanced up to see Harvester grinning at him, holding the pole at the ready. "You not break skin of mine, prostuleh. I hard muscles. I use medicine…super-steroids."

Starfire slowly looked up to see the fight. Groaning softly, she shuddered fitfully, clasping her hands to her shoulders.

Nightwing didn't respond. He whipped out his gun and shot a few rounds. The bullets crumpled just below the red leather. His mouth nearly dropped. The dark assassin's mouth twisted into another scowl, shouting obscenities as he charged again, aiming for the head. Jumping, he aimed the blade's point at the enormous man's head, still yelling. He came to another shuddering halt as Harvester gripped his body with one hand. Bringing Nightwing to his face, he sneered, breathing rancid breath. "Che-am spoose, prostuleh. You die!" Harvester raised his hands, grinned, and slammed Nightwing into the ground.

Starfire gasped, shaking out of her dazed state. She found herself suddenly running, unfamiliar rage bubbling in her veins. "Do not harm him!" She rammed into Harvester, using her full strength to do so.

Completely off guard, Harvester flew into a tree, snapped through it, and bounced off the one behind it. He suddenly noticed Nightwing was still in his hand. Grinning, he brought the scythe to the assassin's neck. "No move, fatuh. He die if you do."

Starfire stopped, watching him warily. "Do not harm him. Please, release him." She felt tears spring unbidden to her eyes. The alien stared helplessly at the scowling, bleeding, bruised mess in Harvester's hands.

Nightwing struggled a bit, watching the interaction. Unfortunately, the man's mammoth strength held him like a vice. He slipped a free hand into his pocket, withdrawing the knife. With surprising speed, he slashed at the fingers. They began to bleed freely.

Grunting at the sudden pain, Harvester stared around Nightwing at his fingers, surprised. He flung the unfortunate assassin away from him, howling in pain as he gripped his cut digits.

Nightwing bounced off the ground, once, twice, before rolling almost off the cliff. Muttering fiercely, he stood to his feet slowly, gripping his arm. Pain shot through his body from various cuts and scrapes, and he could all ready feel his face puffing from bruising. "Not too many muscles in the fingers." He grunted. "Glad I took anatomy in school."

The maddened juggernaut released his fingers, gritting his teeth. Gripping his scythe, he flicked a button, somehow igniting the blade in flickering flames. "You die by flames of inferno!" He ran up swiftly, scythe singing and crackling in the darkening shadows. He swung powerfully, purposefully only grazing Nightwing's side. The dark cloth ignited instantly, cauterizing the bleeding wound painfully.

Nightwing howled, loud. Beating on his clothes, he managed to stifle the fire, only to receive a burning slash to his other side. White-hot pain flashed through him as the scythe burning tip shattered on of his ribs, paralyzing his voice. Another slash, more heat. He was sweating, trying to swallow back bile as he smelled his own flesh burning. Everything suddenly became distant, as if he were watching from far off by telescope. His hand fumbled unconsciously, bringing out the small detonator. He pressed the button slowly, mumbling a soft prayer as the C4 charge he had secured to the Harvester's neck when still in his grip ignited. A flash of light, and the world went dark.

----

Watching in morbid horror, Starfire screamed as Harvester's neck erupted in blinding hot light. Her vision was engulfed in brilliant flames, temporarily blinding her. There was a loud thud as Harvester slammed into the ground, his head gone. Animals, birds, and insects all gave out wild calls as the small shockwave from the detonation rumbled out into the dark night sky. People from the nearby country club ran out in a panic, believing themselves under attack.

And above all the noise, the only sound Starfire heard was the dull splash of a body striking the churning river waters.

Honestly, I'm happy about this chapter. I could have definitely done the fight scene better and all, and it might have been far too fast-paced, but I still liked it. And, it's also longer than the most of the others. Yay for me.

I would like to take this time to answer a thing or two for my reviewers, who may or may not be confused by the rather connived story line. Ahem, the Base is neither Slade nor Scaccarium faction. It is a government run operation, only it's like rogue.

The two factions aren't really known to the public, only to those who run them, contribute to them, or work for them. Essentially, both factions are to be considered underground monopolies of illegal goods. The Slade faction is more inclined to make a profit and keep trafficking drugs, weapons, and, um, promiscuous woman, yeah. The Scaccarium faction (oh, I'll give whomever figures out what that means an imaginary thirty thousand points) is more into the illegal importing of bananas, coffee, wood, and other expensive items which would cost a fortune to import from earth. Both Slade and Scaccarium are warring for dominion over the City. Slade wants money, Scaccarium want peace. The police have no idea about anything, so they're useless.

Robin, is not part of the base. As he is a normal human, he's not a meta. Metas include all superhuman, sentient beings. Whether they be aliens, powerful half robots, or humans that bend Fate, they are all considered dangerous to the worlds. Therefore, each world set up these Bases, to contain whatever strange being comes along their path. Humans are pig-headed like that.

As for the barely noticeable Romance themes in the story, quit bugging me. It's no fun if you just suddenly pair them up. They have to form a bond. Even though they are all teenagers (barely), they have a decent amount of maturity to know that teenage infatuation does not last long. If you set up a relationship simply because of looks and personality, then you have nothing. I'm basically letting the characters probe each other, finding faults and strengths, characteristics and ideals. With that maturity, they can make a better relationship. Remember, "To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god. –Jorge Luis Borges, writer (1899-1986)". No one's perfect.

Hoooo, long ranty-rant. Ciao for now.

Razvanor

P.S. To LilOdieGirl123: By all means, use the inspiration. It doesn't cost me anything. Heh.