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Epilogue…
Six months later…
Bond stepped onto the rooftop, looking around him with the practiced precision of a seasoned espionage agent, taking in every detail in a single glance. As expected, there was no one there, just an expanse of tarred roof, looking out on a dark sky. He'd come early, on purpose. Latching the door closed behind him, he walked to a shadowy corner, which afforded him a 360-degree view of the roof. Reaching into his jacket, he took out his Walther PPK, and checked the magazine, making sure the mechanism and sights were in order. With the muffled sounds of the city below drifting up on the breeze, Bond slipped the weapon back into its holster, and waited.
Despite it being the tail end of summer, the Gotham night air was cool. It was a nice change from the baking heat he'd been working in the past few weeks. His phone vibrated, and he took it out, smiling at the message from his partner. Their contact in Istanbul was growing anxious, and wanted to move up his extraction date. Bond typed out a quick message, keeping one eye on the roof.
Let him dangle a bit longer - more pliable once we bring him in.
Bond slipped the phone back into his pocket. M wasn't going to be happy to hear this; she was anxious to get the man into custody. She would have to be patient a while longer. He was small fish, and Bond had his sights on bigger prey. After weeks of dead-ends, he'd finally picked up a real lead, and his blood was up for the hunt. Every analyst in the intelligence field, MI 6, CIA, Mosadd, believed the woman was dead, but Bond knew better. Vesper was out there, somewhere…and he was going to find her.
The minutes ticked by, five stretching to ten, then to fifteen. It wasn't like the man not to show, but then, there were a thousand things in this city that might require his attention; some pressing matter may have come up. Bond decided to give him another fifteen minutes. As he glanced at his watch, a voice spoke from behind him, catching him by surprise.
"It's quarter after twelve. Sorry to keep you waiting."
Bond turned. Standing on the ledge behind him was an apparition, like the spirit of the city given shape, clothed in the black shadows of her alleyways, and in the dark grey of her concrete buildings, wearing a cloak that rippled like clouds in the midnight sky. Bond chuckled softly.
"How the hell did you get there without my hearing you?"
"That's easy," the masked man said, smiling…or as close to smiling as he ever got. He stepped off the ledge, dropping silently to the roof. "I'm Batman."
"You certainly are," Bond replied, extending his hand. The masked man took it, and shook.
"I was surprised to get your message. I didn't expect you back in Gotham so soon."
"Neither did I," Bond said. "I was chasing a lead, and it brought me here. I thought it best to check in with you first...knowing how you feel about outsiders operating in your city."
"I think we can dispense with that rule," Batman said, chuckling softly. "You have my blessing to operate in Gotham. Assuming you keep your actions to non-lethal measures."
"Hmm…I'll do what I can. I only kill the bad guys who try to kill me first, you know." Bond walked over to the ledge, looking out over the city. "You seem to have things well in hand here."
"It's been a relatively quiet few months, I'm happy to say. I needed time to heal from my injuries, and to get my house in order."
Bond smiled. "How's that going?"
"It's taken some adjustment. I've been a loner most of my life. Having a wife, a child, and a growing extended family has been a challenge, I won't deny it. But a good one."
"Not too many Robins in one nest?"
"Only one at a time. The current Robin is still in training; Dick and I are putting him through his paces. Tim's coming along. As for my son…he has all the skills it takes, and then some. The challenge is dealing with some of the negative influence of his upbringing. Until I'm sure he's ready, he stays on the sidelines."
"And it's not taking you away from your mission?"
Batman looked at Bond, his gaze like iron. "Nothing will ever do that, but I'm finding there's room in my life for more than just one thing. Turnabout is fair play, Bond. Let's talk about you. How is your new relationship working out?"
Bond laughed. "Surprisingly well. Selena's in Istanbul, shadowing a suspect for me. Turns out being a cat burglar is excellent training for an espionage agent. She's a handful…but I wouldn't have it any other way."
"That's good to hear. Now that we're all caught up, why don't you tell me about this lead that brought you to Gotham tonight?"
Bond's expression grew serious. "In a moment. First, let's talk about this…" He reached into his jacket and took out a small vial, showing it to Batman. "I saved this after injecting Ra's al Ghul's body, and had MI 6 run a chemical analysis. It's an extremely potent anesthetic that paralyzes the subject, slowing the heartbeat. A strange treatment to give a dead man."
Batman took the vial, staring at Bond in silence for a long pass of time. After storing the vial in a compartment on his belt, he spoke.
"I suppose I should have known better than to think I could fool you. Spies are notoriously suspicious. I'm sure you've guessed it by now. Ra's wasn't dead, but I needed his people to think he was."
"This isn't a small matter. Ra's took the world to the brink of disaster. He can't be allowed to walk away from this. He has to pay for his actions."
"Trust me, he is."
"I need more than that, Batman."
The two men held in standoff. Batman stared, his expression fierce and strong. Bond met his gaze, his eyes like stone. A breeze came, swirling Batman's cape. The moment held. And then, Batman spoke.
"I'm used to doing things my way, and not explaining my reasons. I suppose spies aren't the only ones who are notoriously suspicious…but I trust you. Ra's extended his life far beyond its allotted span using a treatment that was half science, and half sorcery—by my reckoning, he's more than seven hundred years old. Now, he's paying the price for the time he's stolen."
"How?"
"I've imprisoned him in a secret mountain location, where he has no access to his Lazarus Pit. Once the residual effect of his last treatment wears off, he'll begin aging again—slowly, at first, then rapidly. By this time next month, time will have finally caught him."
"I thought you were opposed to taking a life?"
"I am. This isn't execution…it's justice."
"Okay, I agree. But where is this mountain location? Who's watching him?"
"I told you I trusted you, Bond. Now it's your turn to trust me. The world is safe from Ra's al Ghul."
Bond ran a hand through his hair. "M would have my head if she knew about this. I've already kept your identity secret from her, this is pushing it. But…I do trust you."
"Good. Now, what's this lead you're chasing?"
"MI 6 believes Spectre is reforming, under new leadership. Reports say an underworld supplier from Gotham is selling them weapons and material. An old friend of ours." Bond smiled. "Oswald Cobblepot."
"The Penguin? He hasn't been seen we ran him off six months ago."
"I have word he's back, running a crew out of a warehouse on the outskirts of town." Bond reached behind him, coming back with a grappling gun. "Want to check it out?"
Batman took his own gun from his belt, and walked to the edge of the roof. Securing the line to the ledge, he looked at Bond, with a gleam in his eye, and what almost looked like a smile on his grim face.
"All right, 007, we'll work this together."
Bond smiled, and attached his rappelling line next to Batman's. "After you, Dark Knight…but I'm driving."
And the two heroes flew out into the dark Gotham night.
On the other side of the world…
He sat on the cold, stone chair, his eyes closed in deep meditation. He worked every day to keep his mind sharp, his senses focused. His recovery from his injuries was now complete; his last treatment in the Lazarus Pit had seen to that. Vigorous exercise was making his body fit again. Perhaps it was foolish—without further treatments, he would soon begin to age…but he still threw himself into his regimen of physical and mental training. For the past several months, he had been prisoner in this lonely cell. His only window, a small square of three-inch thick high impact glass, revealed that his cell sat atop a mountain, a high one, judging by the thin atmosphere. By observing the monks who brought his food and drink, he had determined that the mountain was somewhere in Tibet. The monks did not speak to him, perhaps were incapable of speaking at all. They passed the food through a small porthole in the bottom of the massive iron door. He had studied their movements, the time when they came, the path they took down the mountainside. So far, he had not determined a way to escape, but he would not give up his quest for freedom. It was not in his nature to surrender. He would live to see himself revenged on his jailer. Not the monks, they were harmless, mere pawns in the ploy of the man responsible for his condition…
Agitated, he rose, and went to the window. His breath brought clouds of condensation to the small pane of glass. Slowly, he raised his finger, and wrote the name of his jailer.
Batman
Not Bruce Wayne, who was but a meaningless disguise of the true man. Not the Detective, which was an amusing name he once condescendingly called him. No, his jailer—his enemy—was the Batman. No man had ever bested him, had ever humiliated him so thoroughly and completely. Batman had taken his empire from him, had taken his men, his daughter and grandson…and he had taken his pride. Even death would be preferable to so grievous a wound as that.
He wiped the name of his jailer from the window, and calmed his mind. It was almost time for the monks to deliver his morning meal. A moment later, he saw the figures of the two monks, wrapped against the cold and the blowing snow, making their way up the path. He sat in his stone chair, and waited, his eyes focused on the door. Soon, he heard the quiet sound of footfalls in the snow. He directed all his senses, searching for anything that may provide a clue to his eventual escape. As the portal on the bottom of the iron door opened, he detected a new sound; footfalls that did not belong to the monks, far heavier, clumping up behind them. The portal closed, without his food coming through. The sound of the howling wind made it hard to hear what was transpiring outside. He stood, knowing something momentous was about to happen. Centuries of life had taught him to recognize such moments when they came.
There was a blow against the door. Then a second, harder blow. The third blow was massive, the door visibly straining, the huge iron hinges bending. A fourth blow made the room shudder, as the door tore free from the wall. The howling wind invaded the small cell, quenching the meager fire burning in the stove on the far wall. A huge man stepped inside, dressed in a parka, his face swaddled with woolen scarves. A woman came in behind him, stepping over the bodies of the monks. She tapped the massive man's shoulder.
"Oddjob, bring those men inside. I will not see them killed needlessly." She removed her hat and goggles, and looked at Ra's, smiling.
"Ra's al Ghul. At last we meet. I've come bringing you a gift. The gift of life."
She took something from her jacket, and handed it to him. It was a small vial. He put it to his nose, and inhaled. His eyes went wide.
"The Lazarus Pit. How did you get this?"
"It's a long story, best told once we are far from here," the woman said. "You have been ill-treated, but I can help you gain revenge. You and I share common goals...and common enemies."
Ra's met her intense gaze. Her beauty was breathtaking, but he was in no mood to consider such things now. He drew himself to his full height, and called upon his most commanding tone of voice.
"Who are you, woman? Answer quickly, or I will slay you, and your large companion."
She stepped up to Ra's, and removed her glove, extending her hand. Ra's took it, finding her hand smooth as velvet, but beneath that velvet, lay steel. She smiled at him, and spoke.
"My name, lord al Ghul, is Vesper Lynd. And we have a world to conquer."
The End...for now.
