The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan
All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.
The Bluefire Phoenix presents...
A File from Operation Dusk Hour...
Chapter X: Into the Void
Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus. The darkness isn't a handicap.
Sweat dripped down my face. I felt it coldly crawl along my skin. A gentle breeze kissed the top of my freshly trimmed hair, sending a relaxing chill down my spine. The air rapidly shifted.
Sweep from my right. Dodge into it.
High strike. Avoid left.
Low strike. Avoid ri—pain! So much pain!
A rush of agony fell over my abdomen. I dropped to my knees. A groan wanted come out. But I wasn't about to give into it. I had to keep going.
I reaffirmed my stance, digging my feet into the loamy dirt. Come on!
"Stop," Wayne said from somewhere beyond the void. I ripped off my blindfold. Cassandra was standing in front of me with a stick of bamboo almost as long as she was tall. She quickly retracted the faux-blade, bringing it to her hip.
Cassandra was Wayne's daughter and oldest child. Her cold black eyes and tight hair bun clashed with her still very childish features. She had spoken very little to me, even after volunteering to assist. It was like I couldn't escape Mai, his wife. Wayne himself was standing behind her.
The man had come alive in the weeks I had been here. He started walking around Cassandra to me. His feet shuffled a bit having little need for the aid of a cane anymore. Still he was hunched over, hands clasped behind his back.
Never once did I comment on his condition. If things went according to plan, I doubt I'd be in that good of shape. Each step he took shifted the dirt around the inside of cave. It was cooler than practicing directly outside.
We had to practice in the afternoon because our mornings were spent working the shop. I quickly learned to help. Wayne wasn't charging rent or even told me help.
"You were unfocused," Wayne continued.
"I was totally in the zone; I just misjudged which way she was…"
Wayne cut me off with a quick wave of his hand and a flurry of Thai directed at Cassandra. I had picked up a bit of the language in my time here. Not enough for solid conversation, but enough to brace self for another low strike.
Cassandra preformed another low strike. I quickly jumped out of the way. Her strike missed me by a hair.
"What's the point of all this anyway? I haven't fought stick wielding crooks before, and I doubt I ever will," I grumbled. Complaining wasn't going to get me far but I had to say something before I went insane.
"That is not your problem, Mr. Blake. You understand the objective better than I did in my training. No there is something deeper," Wayne retorted with a wave of his hand.
He was right. I had been able to think of lately was Slade Wilson. The way my contact spoke with Wayne bothered me. I sighed. "What are you hiding from me?" I asked. I looked down at the man.
Wayne cocked an eyebrow. He barked something in Thai. Cassandra bowed and walked out of the cave. She glared at me for a moment as she passed me. It was a carbon copy of her mother's.
"And what am I hiding from you, Mr. Blake?" Wayne asked.
"Who is Slade Wilson and what is his deal exactly?" I requested.
"You heard the conversation Q and I had?"
"Q?" I asked.
"That's short for his name, the Question," Wayne sarcastically spat. "So, you want to know about Slade Wilson?"
I nodded. "Yeah, what's his deal?" I asked. Wayne opened his mouth.
"Slade Wilson, former U.S. Army officer and Special Forces operative. Defected in Afghanistan two years ago and has recently been making his way across Southeast Asia," a cold, calculated voice echoed around the cave. A man in a trench coat and a fedora was standing at the mouth of the cave. I couldn't make out any major details of his face in the distance and shadows.
"Speak of the devil," Wayne mumbled. "What are you doing back so soon?" he called back to the Question.
The fedora wearing man looked up at the ceiling then took a few steps forward. I noticed he had a flesh colored mask on that covered his features along with dark sunglasses to shield his eyes. "Well I know how much you love having me around so much," he commented.
"I don't know more than two visits in a year? I think you are starting to get attached," Wayne countered.
"Don't flatter yourself Wayne. My visit is actually about our mutual foe," he dryly added.
"You know what he's up to?" I asked. The Question gave a tip of his hat.
"A theory mostly," he corrected. "I came here to see if you're up to the challenge of taking him on, saving the world from chaos. General 'hero' type stuff," he dryly said.
Wayne started walking towards the man. "Well he's not Q," he barked.
The Question lazily scratched is nose. "And what do you think, Mr. Blake?" he asked.
There was no way Wayne was going to let me go. But I wanted more than anything to prove myself as Batman. I had learned more in two weeks than I had in months at the academy. I could move through the trees without being spotted, throw a batarang within centimeters of a bull's-eye, and track a snake through the underbrush. They weren't perfect and I made my share of mistakes but I could still do them. "I'm not sure," I finally said using the most neutral tone I had. The Question nodded. He disinterestedly straightened his tie.
"Well then I won't waste anymore of your time. I have to get going and see if I can mitigate the damage," he sighed. He tipped his hat, turned around, and strode away. Wayne mumbled something under his breath. I noticed the Question slightly brush his hand against a tree, lazily fall to his side, brush over a fern, then slip into his coat pocket. It was all done in just a split second as he entered the path back to town. The subtle gesture was easily missed by an untrained eye, but was entirely deliberate. Everything about it was too mechanical, too methodical.
Wayne turned back around. A sigh escaped his lips. "I take it you don't care for him," I quipped. My master shook his head.
"He has his uses, Mr. Blake. But you shouldn't trust him," Wayne said. I raised an eyebrow.
"And why not?" I countered. Yeah he was a bit odd, but he had only helped me thus far.
"Because men like him are the reason I live here now," he quietly answered.
"What, he's like that Rock guy from Roanapur?" I kind of blurted out.
The older man lightly chuckled with a shake of his head. "Oh, the Question has become far more dangerous than Rock ever was."
"What do you mean?"
A contemplative sigh escaped Wayne's lips. "Rock was…brilliant," he bitterly conceded. "But he was mired by the confusing nature of living in the twilight, only to find himself sunk into the darkness without ever realizing it. The Question is equally sharp and well aware of the nature of twilight; often using the end justifies the means argument to defend his actions."
"You make it sound like that's a bad thing," I commented. I had been told of the actions he took during the Joker attacks: ignoble perhaps, but necessary. Wayne's hands curled a bit.
"Batman is not a hero, but one who bears the title should never do the wrong thing if there is a better option still available. This means that our struggle is eternal," Wayne philosophized. "Back when I was Batman, I think I knew that fact even though I…"
Wayne paused. I saw his lower lip almost torn off by his teeth. I reached out to grasp his shoulder. He brushed my hand away. "Ultimately as Batman you too must understand these facts. But the Question thinks there is some endgame to be found in the vigilantes of the world teaming up in some super-organization," he bitterly growled.
"Is that so bad?" I asked.
"It is if you are not careful, Blake. He knows that Batman is a powerful symbol that would give credibility and legitimacy to his 'Justice League,'" Wayne said.
"So you think he's using me?"
"Of course he is; it's his M.O. But people like you and Green Arrow have to fight him every step of the way."
I rolled my eyes. "Then why join his little club at all?"
Wayne grabbed my shoulder. He looked into my eye. "Because the world doesn't work like that anymore, I worked alone because I was alone. Not joining his league would be the height of folly on your part. The benefits inevitably out way the drawbacks, however you cannot lose sight of why Batman exists," he said. He poked a scared finger into my chest with every closing syllable.
"To serve Gotham and her people," I finished. Wayne nodded in approval. He released me from his grip.
"I'm heading back for dinner," he said. The older man started shuffling out of the cave.
"I think I'll stick around a bit longer, clear my mind," I said. I gave Wayne a nod and he continued.
Once he was down the path, I walked out to where the Question had performed the strange gesture. Doubt crept in the closer I got. Maybe I had over thought the situation. Maybe I was seeing things.
I started investigating. Hidden in the bush was a note that must have been printed off a computer. It told me that if I wanted to help stop Wilson, to meet a couple miles outside of town on the west road at midnight. I stuffed it in my pocket and started back.
Back in the village, the late afternoon was starting to slink away. Cassandra was playing with Damian, Wayne's young son, outside the bakery. Mai was starting to close up shop. She was complaining to Wayne about something or other. It seemed to be nothing but bitching about the Question.
Her husband assured her that he…wasn't going anywhere. Also that the Question wasn't going to be back for a while. Mai wasn't entirely convinced.
After a frigidly quiet dinner I retreated to my bunk, gathered what I needed, and waited until it was time to leave. I slunk my way down the stairs to the front door at about eleven.
"Is this what you want?" I heard Wayne grumble. I turned around. Wayne was sitting on a chair in the corner. He was staring up at the waxing moon.
"The world needs to know that there is a new Batman, that Gotham once again has a beacon of hope," I stated.
Wayne stood up. "And you think getting killed by Wilson is the best way to do this?" he asked as un-sarcastically.
"I'm not going to die. I'm going to stop Wilson."
"Do you even know what he's planning? His motivation or ideology?" Wayne pushed. He was right.
"No, but if the Question needs help then it is my duty to help him," I answered.
"When you are fully trained, yes; look at yourself now though: you're sloppy and not entirely disciplined. Slade is a trained and experienced killer. He'll wipe the floor with you," Wayne prophesized.
It was a possibility. "I'm not going to sit around and let innocents be hurt if there is something I can do. You said it yourself: one who bears the title should never do the wrong thing if there is a better option still available," I countered.
"But you aren't Batman yet," Wayne growled. While some might have seen this as debatable, I agreed with Wayne. But if I didn't follow the principles of Batman now, how could I be expected to follow them when I was dressed in the cape and cowl?
"Then let me show you that I am ready. Let me deal with Slade," I insisted.
Wayne disappointingly shook his head. "Like I could stop you. Go then if you must, but don't expect a hero's welcome when you come back. If you come back at all," he bitterly said.
I left the bakery in a huff. The Question was waiting for me by a jeep parked on the side of the road right where he said he'd be.
He was still in his suit and coat, fedora cocked down. His face was still covered by the flesh-like mask, eyes still hidden by sunglasses.
"I see you got my note," the Question commented. He rubbed his thumb over his fingers a moment before getting into the jeep. I set my things in the back of the vehicle and got it too. The Question sped off into the night.
"What do you know about a man named Rock? He's from Roanapur, knows Wayne," I asked. The Question remained silent. I was about to object to his silence.
"Real name Rokuro Okajima, nickname Rock. Age twenty-seven. From Tokyo, Japan. Former employee of Asahi Industries and the Lagoon Company. Skills: asset acquisition and familiar with several languages. Assisted in my plan to free Wayne form the Russians. Current status: missing, possibly and most likely dead," he rattled off.
"What? Something you don't know," I sarcastically commented.
"I never claimed to know everything and as far as Mr. Okajima is concerned I don't care. I have no more use for him," he said.
"Sounds like you are throwing away a good asset. Doesn't seem like you," I noted.
"After he assisted in Wayne's escape, he disappeared. If I need him again, I'll find him," the Question coldly stated.
We fell silent until we arrived at a small airport. I was instructed to fly to Singapore using a fake passport and identity the Question made for me: Richard Grayson from Gotham City. I then took a flight to Sydney, Australia. From the airport there I instructed to go to an apartment in the city.
I knocked on the door. The Question answered still dressed in his usual manner. Dear god did he own anything else? Wait! How did he get here before me? We split up in Thailand!
"Come on, I've got something to show you," he said. I walked in to find a room with walls covered in maps and whiteboards and things written on the wall. Paper was strewn every which way. It looked rather frantically set up. "I apologize about the mess. Stone took the liberty of setting this up for me before he left and I've been nesting the last couple of hours."
Personally, I thought the Question was always a little crazy. But it was at that moment I realized he might actually be insane. I read what was on the walls. Outcomes, statistics, and doomsday declarations marred them.
The Question lifted up a case and placed it in the only empty space left on the dining table. It was a large case with the Wayne Enterprises' logo on it. The masked man popped it open. Inside was a set of black armor with a blue, bird-like logo on the chest. It was a design very similar to the one on my old jacket.
"I had this cooked up just in case the whole Batman thing didn't work out. I suppose I'm too fond of you to send you back out onto the streets unprotected," he admitted. In a way I was relieved. Wayne was right: I wasn't Batman yet. Going out as Batman would have been a lie, so going out as my old persona was the right thing to do.
Come to think of it, I never gave myself a name. I was too involved in helping people to give it any real thought. I thought that such monikers were frivolous and distracting. Also my complete lack of artistic creativity didn't help.
I started taking the armor out. "It's a special combination of carbon fiber and Kevlar. Be careful though, it is designed for mobility and agility over absorbing a tremendous amount of punishment," the Question stated. I could tell. The pieces barely weighed anything and there was only the torso piece, boots, and bracers all meant to be put on top of a black catsuit.
"Thanks," I said.
The Question nodded. "You're welcome," he said. He walked over to a map of what appeared to be a city square or plaza. "Now, let's get down to business. We don't have a lot of time before the conference starts. I've put together Slade's most probable moves and a designed a few counters for each."
To Be Continued...
A/N: With this chapter, Knighthood is now my longest story so far, and just one chapter short of the halfway point to boot. Also, Nightfall is almost my most viewed story as well. I know none of you really care that much, but I think it's pretty awesome.
This chapter turned out a little better than I hoped. After all we are just moving pieces to there places. I think I squeezed out a bit more than that from this one. The main problem was finding a way to get Blake and Wayne to part. That ended up working pretty well.
I'm setting up a sort of announcement section on my profile page, there you can see what I'm currently working on, estimated competition time, target publication dates, project reveals, and other tidbits I have for you. Also, I have a poll up on my profile that may be relevant to your interests, so check it out.
I hope that all of you have a safe and happy holiday season, and to those in my audience using the Gregorian Calender: let's kick some ass next year!
Until next time, can it really be a god if we made it {is there a difference between god-like and god at this point}