DC Heroes: MechWarrior I
By: Christopher W. Blaine
e-mail: darth_yoshi@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: All characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by either DC Comics Inc. or WhizKids and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. No profit is made from this story. This original story is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced either in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.
Chapter 5 Wayne Summer Estate Blackgate Gotham Commonwealth July 3, 3031John Grayson looked in on his young son and smiled. Eleven years ago, when he had failed to save the life of the Archon and his queen, he felt lost. He had been unable to do his duty; he had disgraced himself as an officer and as a loyal citizen of the Commonwealth. There had been nowhere to go, no place to run and hide. His shame had followed him no matter where he went.
Mary, his wife and wingman, had been there to pick him up as he fell apart. General Pennyworth had made the extra effort to try and commend John for his efforts in trying to save the royal couple, but it hadn't been enough. Only Mary's patience and love was able to pull him through.
The first year after the murder, he had been unable to climb back into the cockpit and he had been placed in an administrative position. Mary had finally convinced him to get back into the pilot's seat and the Flying Graysons were once more patrolling the skies over Justice City. In the process, she had help push him towards the open hand of friendship that General Pennyworth had held out. The older officer's advice and proverbial kick in the pants put John's career back on track.
Then came word of the pregnancy.
Richard was totally unexpected, a miracle and a godsend. For the first two years of their marriage, before Mary had completed her flight training (she had failed out of MechWarrior training), they had tried to have a baby. When they had failed, John had reported to the command physician only to be told that his sperm count was low.
He still remembered trying to explain that to Mary, she listening intently but at the same time trying to keep a straight face as John went through the complete medical diagnosis in substandard laymen's terms. In the end, she had held him and said they would quit worrying and keep trying. Patience finally paid off.
His son was his salvation, a reason to keep going on. Through Richard, John was sure he could erase the failures of his past. Already the boy was showing an aptitude for piloting, or so John imagined. Running around the house with your arms out like wings was close to wanting to be a pilot.
Mary walked up behind him and put her arms around his waist. "The General is spoiling us, you know that?"
John sighed and turned off the light in the guest room, giving his son the cover of darkness. Both he and Mary stepped into the hallway of the mansion now on loan to them as they took a much-needed leave from the 1st Gotham Guards. "He feels bad that the manor isn't being used."
She rolled her eyes and slipped comfortably into his embrace as they walked. "You mean he wants the lights on so the press thinks Bruce is here."
John shrugged. "I get two weeks to live like royalty; who cares what the reason is?"
They started down the stairs, their footsteps silenced by the plush red carpeting. Rich woods imported directly from Earth and hand crafted by local artisans that made the mansion warm and unique. "Aren't you worried about Bruce?"
"No," John admitted. "Nothing was going to stop him from going, we all knew that. Gordon has arranged for several Oracle agents to keep an eye on him."
"They don't know where he is, John," Mary reminded him. "He could be dead."
"Don't say that, dear," John admonished. The idea of losing another member of the Wayne family was the stuff of his nightmares. "Besides, I know for a fact that Bruce has a guardian angel of sorts watching over him."
They reached the bottom of the stairs and walked hand in hand past the large stone fireplace towards the large picture window. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.
His reply was cut off by the sound of the glass breaking as the high velocity projectile crashed through both the window and John's neck. The carotid artery was struck and blood spurted out in a fountain. Before the blood had a chance to be grasped by gravity, another shot penetrated Mary's brain, killing her instantly as it exploded out the back of her skull.
John watched in horror as his wife fell back, her hand reaching out to his as he slowly began to lose his senses. He turned out the window even as his hot blood poured from his wound. He opened his mouth to shout a warning to his son and when he did, a plastic bullet went through his open mouth and severed his spinal cord. His last thoughts as his body fell to the floor next to his wife were of his son and his dashed hopes for the future.
"Damn! That was a helluva shot," Zucco said to the sniper. The gunman continued to dismantle his rifle. "How?"
"His teeth flash in the starlight," was the comment as the killer removed the night scope. Once he was finished, he put the weapon in it's carrying case. Both men got up and began to walk towards Zucco's hovercar. "I expect the rest of my money to be deposited by the time we get back to your place."
Zucco nodded. As the planetary boss for Ra's Al Ghul's organization, he was responsible for making sure that the hitman was paid in full. To do otherwise would sully the honor of Al Ghul and spell death for Zucco. "I also got you passage on a dropship heading into hawk territory." The Coordinator of the Thanagarian Combine was often referred to as the Hawk, the symbol of Thanagarian strength and power.
The sniper removed a monocle he had strapped over his eye and put it in his pocket. "Fine. Whatever. I just want out of here as soon as possible."
Zucco waited for his companion to get in before starting the engine. In the background, he thought he could hear shouting coming from the Wayne estate as the security forces scrambled to the scene of carnage. That was impossible he thought, surely they were too far away. "If my boss wants to get a hold of you?"
The man twirled his moustache, a nervous habit he had developed since he quit smoking. "He won't. I'll get with him."
Zucco thought the man was too cocky for his own good. Damn good shot though. "So, I never did get your name…"
"Deadshot. They call me Deadshot when I'm working. My real name is for my mother and whoever I'm sleeping with." He gave Zucco a hard stare. "You don't qualify for either."
Zucco nodded and turned onto the main highway to reach a small terminal. From there, Deadshot would ride public transportation to a major spaceport located hundreds of kilometers away where he would get on a DropShip heading far away from Blackgate.
He attempted to make conversation again, hating the silence. "So, did you take out the Archon and his wife?"
Deadshot snorted. "I was in basic training when that happened. Naw, that was someone else. A MechWarrior I heard."
"You ever pilot a 'mech?"
"Naw," he said looking out the window. "That's too dangerous for me."
Zucco said nothing as Deadshot chuckled at what was obviously a private joke.
Bruce stepped out of the café, wiping his mouth on his sleeve in typical MechWarrior style. The Thanagarian cooking was beginning to actually taste good he thought. It was all he had been eating for several weeks now since he began the training program with the other MechWarriors of the stable that did not have their own 'mechs.
Following the advice Plas had given him, he had put the Firestorm into long-term storage, paid for by his new employer Ra's Al Ghul. Bruce had asked about the origin of the name and he had been told it was Arabic and essentially meant, "Head of the Demon". An odd name, but Bruce wasn't about to pass judgment. The training he was receiving not only in piloting, but also in self-defense was intensive and difficult, and he found himself loving every minute of it.
For a time now, he had actually fallen into the Matches Malone persona fully, living the life of someone skirting the law and living dangerously. Lady Shiva had taken a special interest in him, providing him lessons in the martial arts that she did not teach to others. He had questioned it at first; his academy did not spend a lot of time going over hand-to-hand combat.
"Every MechWarrior ejects at some point; nobody can keep a 'mech up forever. Hopefully, you will be able to get your 'mech back into working order one day, but even if you cannot, you must be able to defend yourself once you reach the ground. All of the treaties and agreements and conventions governing warfare be damned. War is about killing. The enemy will kill you or you will kill the enemy." She had stood there after giving her speech and then they had made love.
He smiled. Lady Shiva was different from every other woman he had ever known and she had been his first lover. There was a martial aspect to her he didn't quite understand, but found intoxicating at the same time. Their couplings were filled with intensity that he could only compare to combat. Sometimes he wondered if she were truly human and when he asked about where she had come from, she only smiled. "Far away, my student."
Her speech was perfect, almost poetic in the way she never used contractions and one of the others in his group stated that Lady Shiva had once belonged to the Legion, the premier mercenary outfit in the Inner Sphere right next to Wolf's Dragoons. In fact, some people speculated that the two units were actually from the same place and that Jaime Wolf and Monel Blood Spirit were actually brothers in arms.
Bruce didn't worry about that. He was just happy to be doing something so useful. It wasn't all fun and games either, he thought. Plas had taken him to watch Moxon's Magic in action against the Sword of Light Regiment, a stable sponsored by none other than Takashi Kurita, the Thanagarian Minister of Honor. Apparently it was commonplace for Thanagarian nobles to sponsor such teams not only on Solaris, but on other gaming worlds as well. Because the Minister of Honor was not a military position, his team was considered legitimate for contending for top prizes.
Bruce had assumed that whomever had piloted the Bane that had killed his parents had to be one of the better and older warriors under Moxon's control. More than likely, such a villain would have spent his earnings from the killings and would have returned to Moxon to earn a living. There were several likely candidates, but Bruce had yet to see someone who was as vicious as the man who killed his parents pilot a 'mech into the arena.
He was, in fact, on his way now to go see a match. It was required for the training, to see how the competition worked and see if any flaws in their methods. Bruce picked up his pace and failed to notice he had a companion until the other man spoke up. "May the green flame shine about you," the man said as they walked.
Bruce stopped, as did the man. He saw the familiar red-green-black uniform of a GreenStar MechWarrior. The man was about five to six years older than Bruce and of African ancestry. He wore an easy smile as Bruce gave the standard reply. "And may the truth be shown as it does. To what do I owe the pleasure, Corpsman…"
"Stewart, John Stewart, of the Fifteenth Green Lantern Corps," was the reply. John beckoned that they continue walking. "I am surprised that your disguise is working."
Bruce gave a nonchalant shrug. It was obvious that the man knew who he was and denying it would solve nothing. GreenStar was officially neutral in all matters concerning the Great Houses. The Fifteenth Green Lantern Corps was the detachment assigned duty to protect the HPG stations on Solaris. "It works on those who do not wish to see."
"Indeed. I bring a message from home," John told him as he reached out and grabbed a piece of fruit off of a cart. Bruce answered even as he wanted to tell the man to pay for the fruit.
"So? I already know what they want. I'm not going home until I find my parents' killer. Perhaps if GreenStar would provide me with information regarding any communications between New Gotham and the killer…"
"I'm afraid not. Though, it was not for a lack of trying. Such information would be great bargaining chip, I'm sure, when the next communications contracts come up." John took a bite of the fruit before continuing. "You'll be happy to know that Oracle still hasn't figured out where you are."
"I was wondering why I hadn't been contacted yet," Bruce replied, adjusting his sunglasses. Walking with the Corpsman was making him stick out. "Look, what is this about? Are you going to try and take me in?"
John shook his head. "No; matters of revenge are beneath our blessed order. However, you know that our founder, the blessed Alan Scott, was from New Gotham." Bruce nodded; it was a historical fact. Alan Scott had left his job as an engineer to become a communications specialist for General Jonathan Kent during the Sivanna Coup. Because communications were so important, the task of protecting the HPG stations under Kent's command fell to the Darkstars and Green Lantern Corps, two neutral peace-keeping forces of the Inner Sphere at the time. "As such, you might say that those of us who follow the true Lantern's Light have a particular interest in the affairs of the Commonwealth."
That was interesting to Bruce. He had always been led to believe that GreenStar was one great big happy family. Apparently, there were differences in opinion and it was information that he might be able to use in the future. "And what does that have to do with me?"
"There has been an assassination attempt on Blackgate. We believe, as does the Archon-General, that you were the target. Captain John Grayson and his wife were killed." John saw Bruce visibly pale and he directed him over to seat at an outdoor coffeehouse. The Thanagarian waitress came up and growled for their order. John asked for two coffees, black.
"Is Richard…?"
"He is fine, asleep when the murders occurred but he was awakened when the shots broke out a glass window. He was the first person to discover the bodies." John frowned. "The incident is being kept out of the press until you return. Which is why the Archin-General, who is a personal friend of mine, asked me to find you."
"How? Who?" Bruce could not summon the words his lips wanted to form. All he could picture was his friends' dead. He imagined the horror that Richard must have felt and he realized that a strange sort of bond was already forming between the two of them despite the distance.
"They don't know, but it us being investigated. The Archon-General wants you to remain here in disguise. He wants you to stay out of it."
Bruce shot up and pulled his sunglasses off. "No! Nobody is going to die because of me!"
John reached out a strong hand and pulled Bruce down into his chair, while several patrons looked on. He leaned in close and whispered. "Shut the hell up! If you keep shooting off your mouth like that, you'll be dead!" He waited until the coffee was served before he let Bruce go. He sat back and looked at the young man who was trying to control the raging emotions within him. "We believe that Oracle has a spy in it."
"We?"
"Officially, GreenStar is not involved. Unofficially, I am. General Pennyworth saved my life before I joined the order. I owe him more than you can imagine. When Oracle couldn't find you, he contacted me. It took all of five minutes to find you but only because I can access comms that Oracle can't." He looked around to ensure that no one was listening. "I want you to continue doing what you are doing. Trust nobody."
"You want me to trust you," Bruce replied, wiping away a forming tear. He knew he had to maintain the façade.
"You have no choice there." He downed the coffee. "If you need me, send a message to my barracks under the name of Katma Tui." Bruce looked at him oddly. "She's a fellow member of the order that I am very close to. The adepts running the communications center won't think twice of it. Have the message state you want me to pick up something wherever it is you want to meet."
"Will you send word…"
"Back to the General? Yeah, I can manage one message without drawing suspicion. Remember, you must remain this Malone character until they are sure you will be safe back home." John laid a few G-bills on the table and bowed his head. "I wish you health and happiness, Matches Malone."
Strange sentiments Bruce thought as he watched the Corpsman head off in the direction they had come from. It was all so surreal to him. He had left home to find his parents killers just in the nick of time. Somebody wanted him dead and they had killed his friends, his loyal subjects to try and do it.
Something burned inside Bruce, something about what Alfred had talked to him about. It set the bile churning in his stomach as he considered that he had a responsibility to the people he was to rule. Because of his foolishness, good people had died. The regret weighed heavily on his shoulders.
"I'll make it up to you, John," he said silently. "I promise I'll watch over Richard; I'll be like a father to him. It's the least I can do."
That night, Bruce attended the arena match and while Matches Malone cheered with the crowds, Bruce Wayne mourned lost friends.
He sat He