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29
The sanctum of Ra's al Ghul
The great room echoed with the sounds of battle as Batman's team launched their assault on The League of Shadows. Green Arrow and Huntress rained down arrows on the ones bearing automatic weapons, while Nightwing knocked out several with a salvo of batarangs. Their attack was devastating, but Ra's's forces outnumbered them fifteen-to-one, and they were beginning to regroup. Nightwing kept on the move as shots rang out around him, bullets deflecting off his armor. He shouted to the others.
"Wildcat, Canary, close with them! We have to neutralize their guns!"
As the two heroes raced to join him, Nightwing hurled himself at a group of Ra's's warriors, his battle staffs whirling like twin cyclones, picking them apart before they could react. Two men charged to face him, one with a knife, the other wielding a pair of nunchaku with speed and skill. Nightwing dealt with the knife wielder first, knocking him unconscious in a heartbeat, and then met the other attacker, their weapons colliding with bone-shattering force. The attacker whipped a spinning heal kick which Nightwing ducked, but one of the metal studded nunchaku slammed off his shoulder and clipped his head. Nightwing grimaced as he rolled aside, the lashing nunchaku missing by inches. His attacker smiled.
"I expected more from the Batman's lackey. Your shame won't last long."
Nightwing stood. "Not on your best day."
The two men clashed in a blur of speed, neither gaining the advantage. Unseen, another assassin crept up behind Nightwing, leveling a pistol at his head.
. . .
Across the room, Green Arrow and Huntress continued their barrage, firing a near ceaseless stream of arrows at Ra's al Ghul's forces. Huntress marveled at Green Arrow's ability to nock three and four arrows at a time, fire, and then reload in the blink of an eye. His marksmanship was almost supernatural, every arrow finding its target with pinpoint accuracy. She pushed her pace, loading and firing as fast as she could without sacrificing aim.
"We're making headway," Green Arrow said, maintaining his blistering pace. "Stay focused on anyone with an automatic weapon!"
"What about Batman?" Huntress shouted, loading more arrows into her crossbow. On the platform above them, Batman and Ra's al Ghul battled. After the Demon's Head had pulled Batman's sword from his side, he miraculously regained his strength. Both men were bleeding, but neither gave an inch as their swords clashed, throwing metallic sparks with each slashing stroke. Batman's expression was fierce and determined, but blood poured from his wounded shoulder in torrents.
"Batman can take care of himself," Green Arrow said, launching another fusillade of arrows. "Once we whittle their numbers down, we'll work our way towards him."
A round of gunfire rang out, bullets filling the air around them. Green Arrow leapt for cover, firing half a dozen arrows as he did, taking out several gunmen. Huntress hit the floor and rolled to her left, finding cover behind a stack of crates. Crouching, she looked out onto the floor. Her eyes went wide; a League of Shadows assassin had his pistol aimed at Nightwing, poised to fire. Panic hit as she reached to her quiver…she was out of arrows.
. . .
Wildcat snarled like his namesake as he charged the giant. Two League of Shadows men jumped to intercept, but he flattened them without breaking his pace. As the giant swung his scimitar in a horizontal stroke, Wildcat dropped to his knees and slid forward, leaning backwards like a limbo dancer. The blade sliced the air above him, missing by inches. He sprung to his feet and wheeled on the big man, driving a flurry of punches into his back. The giant roared and spun around, swinging the massive scimitar in a vicious downward arc, with enough force to cut a boar in half. Wildcat leapt aside as the blade sank deep into the wood planking. He kicked, snapping the blade off at the hilt.
"Ha! Told you I'd take that pig sticker away!"
Ubu swung at Wildcat, who ducked and came up battering the giant with punches. Ubu reeled backwards, and then lunged, snatching Wildcat in a bear hug. He heaved him off the ground and began to squeeze with terrible strength.
. . .
Black Canary rushed a group of assassins charging towards Green Arrow and Huntress. She took out one with a spinning back kick, and came up firing her handgun, a Glock 17, taking out three more. Like the other members of Batman's team, she avoided using lethal force unless absolutely necessary. Tonight it was necessary. Her magazine was empty, and there was no time to reload; three assassins were rushing her. She vaulted over the first man, kicking the second in the face, knocking him out cold. The last man had his gun trained on her. The situation desperate, she called on her ultimate weapon—her voice. A piercing cry erupted from her throat, rising in pitch and power, hitting a penetrating tone that shattered glass throughout the room. The attacker fell to his knees, clutching his ears. Battle halted throughout the room, as everyone reeled from the sonic assault. As suddenly as it came, the sonic barrage ended. Black Canary slumped to her knees, depleted. Two League of Shadows assassins staggered to their feet and headed towards her. Gathering her strength, she got up and readied to meet them.
. . .
As the earsplitting sound faded, Huntress regained her senses, and looked towards Nightwing. The shooter had gotten to his feet, and was again taking aim at him. She raced forward, tackling him just as he fired. She had no time to see if the shot hit its target; the man rolled on top of her, and was struggling to aim his gun. Using an elbow lock Batman taught her, she immobilized the assassin. He squeezed off a shot, the sound enormous at this close range, but the bullet missed. Wrapping her right leg around his neck, she looped her other leg over her foot, securing a triangle lock around his throat, and cinched it tight, shutting off his carotid artery. His eyes fluttered closed, and he was out. Shrugging him off, she got to her feet and scanned for Nightwing, seeing he was all right. Her relief at was short lived; two assassins were running towards her, daggers drawn. She pulled the blackjack from her belt and headed towards them.
. . .
Nightwing shook off the disorientation of the sonic attack, seeing his opponent had already regained his footing, his twin nunchaku poised to strike. A shot flew past Nightwings head, so close he felt the wind of its passage. This had to end now. He gritted his teeth and raced into the path of the whirling weapons, his battle staffs raised to protect his head. The heavy oaken clubs slammed either side of his ribcage, an impact he would feel for days, but the tactic worked; he crashed into the man, tumbling him over. Nightwing smashed one of the weapons from the assassin's hand, and then spun, landing a lightning fast kick to the side of his head. Reeling, the man came on, whipping the nunchaku in a flashing arc. Nightwing sidestepped, slamming his knee into the man's abdomen while bringing his elbow down on the back of his neck. He dropped, unconscious.
"Tough son-of-a-bitch," Nightwing muttered. Spying two assassins closing in on Huntress, he gripped his battle staves and raced to her.
. . .
On the platform, oblivious to the battle below, Batman and Ra's al Ghul circled one another, each man's focus total as they looked for an opening to strike. Off to the side, standing beside the ornate throne, Damien Wayne watched. Blood flowed from Batman's shoulder and from the gash on his left hand, but no sign of pain registered on his face. Ra's was bleeding profusely from the wound in his side, but while his expression was likewise resolute, his face was pale.
"You're fading," Batman said. "Surrender, while there's still time."
Ra's glared at him. "The wound is deep, but the power of the Lazarus Pit will sustain me long enough to defeat you."
"To what end? Your twisted dreams of conquest? It's madness."
"You are the one speaking madness. The earth teeters on the brink of annihilation, her resources depleted, her so-called leaders feckless and cowardly. Only I have the will to save her."
"And when the world is saved, you'll be holding the reigns of power. How convenient."
"Who better to rule? During the long centuries of my life, I've seen many would be leaders arise…Tamerlane, Cortes, Napoleon, Hitler…vicious men of naked ambition, crushing all who opposed their twisted will. Such bloodlust does not drive me, only a desire to save our mother earth. I will build not an empire, but a paradise!"
"How many billions will die for this paradise?" Batman looked at Ra's with sternness, and something close to pity. He slowly ran his gloved hand over the edge of his blade. "This is your last chance, Ra's—for Talia's and Damien's sake, surrender, now."
Just then, a pulsing tone sounded over the speakers. Ra's looked at Batman, his eyes bright with triumph.
"That is the signal I've awaited, Detective. A score of nuclear missiles is heading to Moscow. The Russian counterattack will soon commence. The world as you know it is over, and upon its ashes I will build a new future…one you will not live to see."
Ra' drew himself up to his full height, proud and defiant. He gripped the hilt of his sword and charged forward. Batman met his slashing attack, their steel clashing while Damien watched in silence.
The Batcave
Q worked furiously at the keyboard, as Batgirl, Robin, and Lucius Fox stood watching. The massive computer screen displayed a split image; on one side was a satellite picture of the ICBMs, just now clearing the California coastline, their destination Moscow, while the other side showed the sprawling flow of data that was the Golden Key program. The screen was run riot, lines of code writing and rewriting itself, spiraling geometric forms blooming from the data streams, building from the shifting integers, forms that would grow, and then collapse within seconds. Q was straining to keep pace with the flowing data, when his phone rang.
"That's M—answer it," he shouted, not taking his focus off the screen.
Robin grabbed the phone, and clicked it on.
"Umm…hello, is this M?"
There was a pause at the other end of the line, and then a woman's voice answered.
"Who the hell is speaking?"
"Call me Robin. Q asked me to take your call. He's, ah…busy right now."
"I should hope so," the woman answered. "We're watching the missiles on satellite. Tell Q he has five minutes to abort the ICBMs before the Russians launch their counter-strike."
Robin's voice rose with panic. "Counter-strike? Don't they know it's not us?"
"What they know, young man, is that Moscow is about to be wiped from existence. They won't allow that without retaliating. Tell Q he has five minutes to—"
Q ripped the phone from Robin's hands.
"Damn it, M, I know I only have five bloody minutes, so let me work!"
He slammed the phone down. Robin sat next to him, scrutinizing the algorithm sprawling across the screen.
"Hey, these fractal forms are recursive, aren't they? Essentially endless."
"Yes," Q said, hammering out code. "That's the secret of the Key—it generates platforms for nearly infinite combinations, breaking through existing code with a sheer volume of—"
"Yeah, I get it," Robin interjected, "but wouldn't it take forever for the code to overwrite itself?"
"I built in a fail-safe to the version they're using. If I can break into the data stream, I can deactivate it."
"Why not get them to break into our data stream? Two programs with endless capacity for overwriting code ought to cancel each other out, right? Then the Army could self-destruct those missiles."
Q looked at Robin, his mouth agape. Shaking off his amazement, he attacked the keyboard. "Get the Pentagon on the line," he shouted to Lucius Fox. On the video screen, a digital image showed the missiles. They were only three minutes from crossing the point of no return.
The sanctum
Bond and Catwoman raced into the basement complex, seeing the battle raging. Catwoman pulled the gun from her belt, and clutched her whip. "Looks like I'm going to need 'em both. Good luck, James," she said, planting a quick peck on his cheek before dashing off to aid Black Canary.
Bond gripped his Walther and ran forward, dropping six assassins before reaching the main floor, where the action was thickest. A dozen feet away, his old acquaintance Ubu was throttling Wildcat. He knew what it felt to be in the giant's vice-like grip. As Bond took aim, someone struck his arm, knocking his shot off target and the gun from his hand. He spun just in time to meet a flurry of kicks and punches that drove him backwards. His attacker paused, smiling.
"Tiger kung-fu," the man said, renewing his assault. His technique was fast, powerful, and beautiful. Bond left artistry aside, blocking most of the blows and absorbing the rest as he forced his way inside the man's guard. He drove a devastating kick into his crotch, sinking the tip of his combat boot deep. The man's eyes glazed as he dropped to the floor, curling into a ball.
"Manchester football," Bond said, smiling.
Not bothering to look for his gun in the confusion, Bond ran towards Ubu. Wildcat was struggling to escape the crushing bear hug, throwing feeble punches as his strength flagged. Bond leapt up and rammed his feet into the back of the giant's knee, driving him down. Ubu cried out, dropping Wildcat as he fell. He lurched to his feet and glared furiously at Bond.
"You! This time there will be no escape—Ubu will crush you, little man!"
Bond ducked Ubu's enormous swings, and came up firing punches of his own, landing them in the man's gut. Ubu grunted and came on, firing punch after punch, until one made contact, just as Bond drew his arm up to block. The blow tumbled him a dozen feet back. Bond struggled to his feet, bleary. Ubu advanced but then stopped, crying out in pain as Wildcat drove punches into his kidneys. Ubu wheeled on Wildcat, and Bond ran forward, jumping up to crash a double-fisted blow into the back of Ubu's neck. The giant staggered, as Bond and Wildcat rained a relentless flurry of punches, driving Ubu to his knees.
"Hold off," Wildcat shouted, "I got this!"
The darkly garbed hero landed a blindingly fast punch onto Ubu's chin with a resounding crack. Ubu slumped over, five hundred pounds of muscle and bone thumping to the floor, unconscious. Wildcat clutched his sides, grimacing.
"Nice punch," Bond said. "How are the ribs?"
"Broken. Screw it," Wildcat snarled. "Let's get back in—"
Wildcat screamed in pain as a bullet tore into his left shoulder, sending a brilliant spray of blood in the air. Bond dropped, pulling Wildcat down with him, but not before another bullet grazed his forearm, digging a red furrow of flesh. Hitting the floor, Bond reached out, searching for a gun, as Wildcat let out a string of obscenities. Bullets riddled the floor around them.
The Batcave
The cave fell utterly silent as all eyes focused on the large computer monitor. Leslie had come down from the medical center, and was standing next to Lucius, clutching his hand. Batgirl and Robin stood at either side of Q, who was sitting at the center console. On one side of the screen, the Golden Key program was battling itself, on the other, a digital image of the missiles. The countdown clock read forty-five seconds until worldwide nuclear Armageddon. Q turned to the others, sweat beading on his forehead.
"There's nothing more I can do. We have to pray that—"
The screen flared bright as the two competing computer programs engaged each other. Suddenly, the data streams froze as a message flashed across the screen: SYSTEM ERROR—PROGRAM INTERRUPTED.
"The lockout's gone," Q shouted to Lucius, who was standing with the phone to his ear, the Pentagon holding on the other end. "Tell them to destroy the missiles!"
Lucius quickly relayed the message. Everyone turned to the monitor, watching the progress of the missiles, now only fifteen seconds from the point of no return. As the countdown reached seven seconds, all twelve blips, each indicating a thermonuclear missile, disappeared from the screen.
"They got them," Lucius shouted. "The missiles are gone!"
The others began to cheer, but Q silenced them. "What about the Russians?"
Lucius hushed him, as he waited for a response from the Pentagon. After several agonizing seconds passed, he looked up.
"The Russians canceled their counter-strike!"
The cave erupted with shouts of joy. Batgirl hugged Robin, while Lucius let out several whoops of triumph, pumping his fist in the air as Leslie hugged him tight. Q collapsed into his chair, expelling a long, shaky breath.
"Thank God," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. He picked up his phone, which was sitting beside the keyboard, and lifted it to his ear. "Did you get that?"
"I did," answered M. "Nicely done, Q. You'll receive the highest citation for this when you come back."
"Never mind the citation, I need a holiday."
"We'll discuss it when you come in for debriefing. What's happening with Commander Bond?"
Q bolted up in his chair. "Damn, I forgot about Bond. I'll call you back, M," he said, cutting the call. He dialed Bond, getting no response.
"I've got an idea," Robin said, nudging Q aside. He pecked in a command on the keyboard. "I can access Batman's body camera, it'll give us picture and audio."
The screen lit up with a confused image. The speakers were blaring the sounds of combat; gunfire ringing out, shouting and screams of pain. Robin adjusted the camera, panning it over the room. He stopped when the image honed in on Batman, locked sword to sword with Ra's al Ghul. Blood was pouring from Batman's shoulder. Leslie gripped Lucius's hand tighter. In all the years she had know Bruce, she had never seen him in action as the Batman.
"We have to help him," she shouted. "Call the police, tell them to send everyone they can!"
"I already have, but he entire city is in chaos. They won't get there for at least an hour," Lucius said, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. His eyes went to the screen, where the battle raged. "There's nothing we can do now...but pray."
