Batman/Resident Evil: The Gotham Protocol
Chapter 5
By: Christopher W. Blaine
e-mail: darth_yoshi@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: Resident Evil™ is a registered product of Capcom Inc./Batman™ is a registered product of DC Comics Inc. Neither of these properties is used here with permission. This original story idea is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine.
The Huntress watched as Nightwing and Arsenal talked quietly between themselves, waiting for the time when she would be escorted away. She was the black sheep; the non-kissing cousin of the Bat Clan and here presence here had to be disturbing them. It was the only reason to explain why as soon as Batman and the S.T.A.R.s team had left that nobody would speak to her.
She looked over at the glass cases that held the costumes that were no longer being used, silently wondering if the Batman would put hers there if something ever happened to her. A tap on her shoulder broke her concentration and she turned to see Nightwing's smiling face. His rugged handsomeness was disarming and she was the authority on that; they had once been lovers. It was strange that she still didn't know his real name. "Yes?" she asked.
Nightwing indicated Arsenal with a gesture. "Roy is going to stay here and maintain the store. I was wondering if you'd like to come with me back to Bludhaven. I have to pick up my snitch and put him in a safe house until we can broker a deal for him."
"Not going to just let him go?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.
He shook his head. "No; he has too much information to let go. Plus, if Umbrella is willing to experiment on humans, then they won't think twice about killing him. Perhaps the Gotham Protocol is a set of procedures for tying up all loose ends. There is no way to know." He put his hands on his hips. "Unless you have a problem doing something as mundane as protecting the innocent."
She gave him a sarcastic smile, her perfect teeth showing in a feral grimace. "Gee, I haven't killed anyone today…"
He didn't wait for the rest of the answer and instead marched off towards the Batmobile, sitting on its own at the end of a long, dark highway. "Is daddy letting you drive the station wagon tonight?'
Nightwing hopped into the vehicle and called to her. "I don't ask daddy for permission for everything. Are you coming?"
She decided it was better than being knocked out and dragged away. She could only imagine what Arsenal would be willing to do with her unconscious body. As if he read her mind, the young archer called to her. "You can always stay here and keep me warm, sweetheart!"
The Huntress ignored him and joined Nightwing in the car.
As they raced down the highway towards Bludhaven, Oracle gave them some more background information on the dashboard-mounted computer. The Huntress was silently impressed; the car itself with all of its gadgets, doo-hickeys and high-tech components was worth more than her entire apartment building. "Raccoon City appears to still have some problems with disappearances, but it isn't getting to the media," Oracle said. "I did a check and found out that Umbrella owns all of the papers in town."
"No wonder."
The Huntress examined Nightwing's face in the red light of the dashboard. There was a grave look of concern on his face and she could understand why. She hated complex conspiracies herself. The difference between the two of them was that Nightwing, like Batman, was willing to try and unravel the mystery. It challenged their minds and made victory more satisfying.
She preferred getting the Umbrella board of directors in a room and start shooting them in the knees. Eventually the truth would be known and the victory would be very sweet. She supposed she had too much of her father, a mafia crime boss before his murder, inside of her. "Umbrella is like an octopus, having a tentacle everywhere. They contribute to political campaigns all over the world. Their total worth is unknown because most of their holdings are outside the United States."
Oracle then added in a low tone. "They even own five percent of Wayne Enterprises, the parent company of WayneTech." The Huntress couldn't see it, but Nightwing tightened his grip on the wheel. It was bad enough that one of Green Arrow's former companies was involved; if the Batman discovered any equipment from something he owned and controlled, it would be devastating.
Bruce Wayne would not allow others to suffer so he could profit.
"They are also involved with many other companies. Kord Industries for one," Oracle said. Ted Kord, the CEO of the company, was also a super-hero. As the Blue Beetle, he was a former member of the Justice League. "They were also part of the original investment group that Maxwell Lord put together when he reformed the Justice League a few years back."
The Huntress spoke before Nightwing could. "What the hell were they trying to do?"
"Maybe looking for super-hero test dummies," Nightwing said coldly. "Who knows?"
"Your Dr. Perot has an interesting resume as well," Oracle said. Suddenly a large amount of text scrolled on the screen. "This guy has worked for Project Cadmus, LexCorp and even Gotham University."
"What did he do there?" Nightwing asked.
"It doesn't say. Whatever it was, it must have been embarrassing for the university because they struck it from their official records." Oracle's head twisted to look at the Huntress. "As for your other question, Nightwing might have been on the money. Umbrella has some legitimate work going on looking into the Metahuman Genome Project that was proposed a few years back."
"Isn't that the thing where they are trying to figure out why some people get super-powers and others don't?" the Huntress asked. Suddenly she started to understand. "My God! They want to create some sort of super-zombies?"
"This isn't a world that isn't without ways to beat back the dead," Nightwing said, taking the first Bludhaven off-ramp. "I mean, how long would an army of the dead survive against Superman? Wonder Woman? Green Lantern?"
"Not long I suppose," the Huntress said quietly, contemplating all of the ramifications. An army of undead would be an incredible weapon, easily produced when one got a hold of the T-Virus. Small nations willing to bend the rules of morality would be able to challenge the authority and sovereignty of larger nations. Millions of innocent people could either die or worse, become the weapon of evil. All the while, the Umbrella Corporation would continue making money.
That is if all that was being said was true. "Are we sure that the stuff these renegade S.T.A.R.s agents are saying is true? I mean, the FBI has been chasing them and I thought you guys kissed the Bureau's ass every chance you got."
Oracle's head flickered for a moment and the Huntress decided that whomever was on the other end of the transmission had taken offense. Little did she know that the human personae of Oracle was hacking into the IRS database and listing Miss Helena Bertinelli, secretly the Huntress, as awaiting an audit of her last five years' taxes.
"I believe them," Nightwing said. "I saw that…thing, Huntress; it was not the result of an accident."
She decided not to respond, but that didn't mean she was entirely convinced. Chris Redfield had reminded her too much of the Batman, too doing the right thing. In the view of the world the Huntress held, such people didn't really exist. She was positive that along the line somewhere, their lies would be exposed.
Oracle signed off, stating that she was going to try and find out exactly what Perot had been up to in his university days. Turning to Nightwing, the Huntress asked him why he didn't just ask the man. "He might lie. It's also better going into the interrogation knowing some of the truth to gauge the person being questioned."
She pulled at one of her leather gloves, opening and closing her hand in a fist. "There are other, more direct ways to get people to talk."
"Haven't you learned anything in your time with Batman?" he asked.
"Yeah; it's just I don't care."
The hopped across the alleyway from one rooftop to the other, their young bodies and powerful muscles propelling them with ease. They both landed hard and stayed in crouches. Nightwing signaled for her to move quietly; the neighborhood they were in wasn't the safest. Rooftops were favorite spots for drug deals, murders and rapes and he wanted to survey the terrain before they made any move.
Huntress decided that this Dr. Perot had to be desperate to be living here and it was no wonder he was trying to sell his services to various criminal organizations. Nightwing explained that the scientist had been traveling back and forth between Gotham and Bludhaven and was thinking about moving on to Midway City. From her family connections, Huntress knew that he would have even worse luck finding work there. Years before, Hawkman and Hawkwoman had run the mob out of there and she doubted any of the gangs that filled the criminal void had the desire for biological weapons or synthetic drugs.
There was no doubt that Nightwing and Batman would turn Perot over to the Department of Homeland Security before he could create something that would be used against the people of the United States. Of course, he probably already had and maybe the feds would get up and do something about Umbrella.
They approached the opposite ledge and satisfied they were alone, Nightwing began to secure a line and the Huntress started to do the same thing. She wanted to ask why they didn't just go down the stairs like normal people but knew she wouldn't get a straight answer. Together they dropped from the edge of the roof down to a window Nightwing had indicated previously.
Before she could look inside, he was through the glass. His costume protected him from the shards and sharp edges and provided her with safe access. There was no time for words, to explain what had spurned him into action so quickly. It didn't matter, though, for despite their differences, she did trust him. By the time she had let go of her line and reached for her small crossbow, he was already across the room, standing over a corpse.
"Son of a…" he started, looking down at whom the Huntress assumed was Dr. Perot. "It looks like a heart attack."
"Which means someone very good at killing got a hold of him," she said. She then noted the small trickle of blood on the dead man's arm. "What's that from? Your buddy here shoot up?'
Nightwing shook his head. "Nothing indicated that he…hold it!" Nightwing sprang from his crouched position and jumped headfirst into the next room. The Huntress was running, following after him and stopped short when Nightwing came tumbling back towards the doorframe.
In the other room they confronted a large man dressed in full black leather, complete with the obligatory trench coat. He was of African descent, his skin color nearly matching that of his costume. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes from her view, but all in all she guessed that he was about ten years older than Nightwing and he moved like somebody used to fighting. "Try that again, boy, and you'll be dead," the man said. His accent was British.
"Who are you?" the Huntress asked, helping Nightwing up.
The man smiled. "You may call me Vandross if you want to engage in conversation. I always try to make the time for beautiful women." He bowed slightly. "However, I'm afraid that now is not the time for getting acquainted."
"Did you kill that man?" Nightwing demanded, rubbing his jaw. Vandross had hit him hard, a little too hard for a normal person. "What's your connection to Umbrella?"
Nightwing took a step forward and Vandross lifted his sunglasses, revealing pale eyes. They seemed like dead eyes and the Huntress could have sworn she saw a membrane go up over them right before twin beams of red hot death shot out, burning the floor at their feet. "My heat vision is very nasty, boy; you'd better stay back."
Nightwing leaned his head over and whispered to the Huntress. "Can you shoot him in the leg?"
"I can change the pitch of his voice from here," she told him.
Then the smell hit her.
It wasn't so much the smell as it was the way it burned through her other senses. For a moment, all she could do was taste the foulness. Her eyes watered and even her hearing seemed affected as the stench of a thousand dirty diapers. Forgetting Vandross for the moment, she turned her head and suppressed a cry.
Perot was standing there, his face ashen from the loss of blood, his eyelids drooping and fluttering as if he were overdosing very slowly. The smell was coming from him and she noted that his clothes were soiled from where his bowels had opened up.
Nightwing saw the monstrosity as well and knew immediately what had happened. As he leapt back, he accused Vandross of injecting Perot with the T-Virus. The other man laughed and made his way to the front door. "But I didn't kill him; technically he's still alive!"
The Huntress fired her crossbow, the missile plunging deep into the Perot-zombie's shoulder. Instead of blood, a yellow pus started to flow from the wound, but the monster didn't seem to mind. Instead it seemed to regard the Huntress as food, it's mouth opening and closing as green-blue bile poured from it. Hands shaking from primal terror, she reached for another load for her crossbow when Nightwing launched into the beast.
His batons flew, playing a drum solo of pain and abuse along the torso of the creature. It made no sound other than some moaning, which reminded the Huntress of sexual ecstasy. It was all too perverted for her and she lost her balance, firing the crossbow into the ceiling. Nightwing continued his assault and the Huntress tried to kick away from the zombie as it reached for her.
She already knew what could happen if that thing got a hold of her and images of necrophilic rape clouded her mind. She had been pursued by many things; had barely escaped gang rape and murder in her chosen career. In each case, there had been that look of savageness in the eyes of the men who wanted to possess her, to make her their object. In this thing there was nothing and when Nightwing finally tried a head strike, an eyeball popped out and hung there from the optic nerve.
The creature didn't care; all it knew was the hunger it felt. It needed to feed on the warm flesh, to absorb the energy from the still beating heart of the creature in front of it. Of the three in the room, it was the one giving off the best scent. Even without its eyes it could still pursue her by taste alone.
"Damn it! Kill that thing!" she cried out as it reached out. She kicked and the heel of her boot crushed its nose with a wet popping sound. As more pus and mucous flowed, the stench level increased and despite herself, she started to vomit her stomach contents onto her chest.
Nightwing had hoped beyond hope that he wouldn't have to kill Perot, that the man that once animated this body could be given his life back again. Now he had to make a choice as to whether stick to that hope or save his friend. The creature once again tried to get her and Nightwing slammed a battle stave home, cracking the creature's leg and bringing it down to floor level. It made no sound or grunt to indicate it even knew that it could no longer walk. All that it could conceive of was satisfying the unholy hunger it felt.
The Huntress was able to get up and back away, anger now replacing fear. Her embarrassment over having deposited her lunch all over herself was now replaced with a single-minded determination to send this nightmare to hell. Reloading her crossbow once more, she drew down and put the bolt between the zombie's eyes. The Creature gave a shudder and then dropped its head to the floor, a pool of various fluids forming underneath it.
Nightwing turned, ready to take down Vandross now but was surprised to see that he managed to slip away. "Are you okay?" he asked the Huntress.
She threw down her crossbow and began to peel off her costume, stripping down to the sports bra she wore underneath. Nightwing started to turn his head and she grimaced. "Please; it's not anything you haven't seen before." She then pulled off her cape and wrapped the soiled leather up in it. "I need a shower."
Nightwing pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. "Oracle, I need you to contact S.T.A.R. Labs in Metropolis and ask them to send a team over here. Yeah, ask for Vic Stone." Stone was a member of the Titans who also worked with the leading scientific research agency in the world, S.T.A.R. Labs. Huntress stood away from the corpse looking at it.
Nightwing replaced the phone to his utility belt. "Are you sure you're okay?"
The Huntress laughed lightly. "I've killed live people before and it didn't bother me as much as this." She then gave him and wicked grin. "Don't expect to be the shoulder I cry on though, Bat-boy." She gave the body one last look and shivered. "Why S.T.A.R. Labs?"
"The Titans work with them often and they may be able to analyze the body to see if there is a cure for the virus." He shook his head, silently blaming himself for not expecting that Umbrella would send an assassin after Perot.
"We need to get out of here," she said. There was a brief hint of concern in her voice. Despite their differences, she still had a soft spot for him. "We need to find Vandross," she reminded him.
He nodded and gave her a good going over with his eyes. "Maybe we should stop by your place and get you a new costume?"
"Right. Remember the last time you came over to my place?"
He smiled a large mischievous grin. "I knew you couldn't get me off of your mind." Then his tine turned serious. "We need to get going though; your fantasies can wait until tomorrow.'
"Dream on," she said as she walked over to the window where they had entered. She waited patiently as Nightwing did a quick once-over on the apartment looking for anything useful. As expected, Vandross had apparently already ransacked the place. "Are you ready?" she finally asked.
He nodded and together they climbed up their ropes and made their way back to the hidden Batmobile, unaware that they were being watched from several miles away.
Vandross dropped his glasses back down, the protective membrane sliding back into the folds of his eye socket. He put the cell phone up to his mouth. "Definitely two of Batman's operatives. Nightwing and Batgirl I think, but I'm not too sure. I always thought Batgirl had red hair."
The voice on the other end of the line was monotone. "She's called the Huntress, one of the more reactionary elements of Gotham City. She's a female version of you in a way."
"She has a nice ass," Vandross responded. "You're right, she is just like me."
"If you're done with the jokes, then maybe you can carry out your mission and get the Gotham Protocol enacted?"
Vandross sighed. "Yes, sir. This does present something of a sticky wicket, though."
"We know. Redfield and his crew may have enlisted the help of the Batman."
"He could bring the Justice League down upon us," Vandross replied as he stood up. "I'm good, but I'm not ready to tackle Superman."
"None of us are which is why the Gotham Protocol must be enacted. If Nightwing gets in your way again, treat him like any of the renegade S.T.A.R.s. Eliminate him." The line went dead.
Vandross sighed and hung the phone up and then slowly walked away into the night.
"According to MercNet, the online database of mercenaries," Oracle's head said to Nightwing and Huntress as they drove back to Gotham City, "Vandross has been active for about five years. He was allegedly killed by Deathstroke." Nightwing nodded and applied a little more throttle to the engine. Deathstroke, also known as the Terminator, was a super-powered mercenary and constant foe of the Titans.
"He didn't look dead to us," the Huntress added as they hit another bump in the road. She knew that Nightwing's driving hadn't suddenly turned bad. She leaned over. "If you don't stop making my chest bounce, I'm going to blacken those pretty eyes of yours."
He remained unaffected. "Change of plans; we're not going back to your apartment."
The Huntress looked out and saw that they were not on the main highway anymore but had instead crossed onto a state route. The road wasn't in the greatest repair. "Where are we going?"
"Perot used to work at Gotham University, right? I've got a feeling that's where Vandross is going," Nightwing said. "It makes sense. Perot was working on something at Gotham University that got him noticed by Umbrella I'll bet."
"It's more than that. I found the information but only after I went to some records from the ATF." Oracle's head was replaced by a copy of a report. "Perot was one of the scientists working with Dr. Kirk Langstrom a few years back."
"Oh my God," Nightwing said silently. "Have you told Batman?"
"No…oh, Jesus…"
"What? Who is this guy?" Huntress asked, her ire apparent by her tone. She hated the way everyone else in Batman's family knew everything except her.
"He's a scientist, a man on the cutting edge of genetic research," Nightwing explained. "He's made breakthroughs that most of the scientific world is only now beginning to understand. While companies like LexCorp and Project Cadmus worked on cloning, Langstrom was working on…"
"The Metahuman Genome Project," Oracle finished. "He never told us! I'm getting the information now by hacking into the university funding accounts. Yes! Langstrom's research was partially funded by a grant from the Umbrella Corporation. They were hoping to use his work to get a jump start on the cure for Parkinson's."
"So?"
Nightwing took a hard left and added more throttle. The road was now so bumpy that Huntress crossed her arms over her chest. "Langstrom went too far, he experimented on himself."
"Sounds like the kind of guy Umbrella loves."
"You don't understand; Langstrom wasn't interested in curing Parkinson's…he had his won agenda. He wanted to create a real Batman."
"A real one?"
Sighing, Nightwing turned to her. "Kirk Langstrom is Man-Bat."