Heritage Reclaimed
Part One: Desdemona
Much had happened in the two years Marti had been on Themyscira. She'd had the chance to hone her fighting abilities and learn several new styles, as well as countless other skills she never even dreamed she'd pick up. She'd also been given a new name, a greek one to signify that she'd been accepted into the tribe, so to speak. Or, mostly accepted – As Queen Hippolyta often remarked, she was clearly her father's daughter. Regardless of the fact that she actually enjoyed life on the sun lit island, the shadows of Gotham never really stopped hovering over her. The name she'd been given reflected that, and the Queen's opinion on the subject – Desdemona, child of the demon.
For a while, she was actually convinced she was truly trying to fit in with her 'sisters'. It only took a few months for the illusion to wear off – She had been around men most of her life, more so than women. And warriors though they all were, they didn't quite fill the void. Marti took to longer and longer wanderings in solitude through the island's forests. It was there that she found the little-used temple to the god Hermes, and unexpectedly, a friend and mentor. The messenger god was also the god of thieves and athletes, and took a liking to the stranded Gothamite, in spite, or perhaps because of her refusal to consider him a God or to fall prey to his charms.
Needless to say, Hippolyta was not pleased with dear granddaughter. When the Amazons were called by Athena to retrieve the Aphneios Idol from the patriarch's world, it was a mutually pleasing agreement for Desdemona to be sent. She'd packed her things and left the island almost immediately. She had to come back, of course, to return the idol, but the break was a welcome one.
It had been about two months since she'd departed from Themyscira. She'd followed the Aphneios' trail through Europe and into America, where it had fallen into the hands of a man named Lex Luthor. Luthor was expending a great deal of resources to get it back. Not surprising, really. The sorcery Ares had cast on the idol several hundred years before was designed to inspire precisely that reaction, bringing out the covetous and warlike tendencies in even the gentlest men. In a man like Luthor, the curse was manifested more publicly – in just a matter of days he'd become almost insanely ambitious in his business ventures. Getting another rogue Amazon on the payroll was too good to pass up. So Marti found herself working for Luthor. She couldn't complain, really, he was paying well enough.
She had been hoping she could regain the idol before it left Metropolis. Instead, she now found herself splitting a search of Gotham with Hope and Mercy. Enthusiasm for hanging out in the Patriarch's world had evaporated quickly. In spite of the fact she had submitted to wearing a mask, had long since been made to leave her hair a natural color, and had packed away her father's utility belt for the time being, she doubted it would take this dimension's Batman long to recognize her once he'd involved himself in the search for the Idol. It promised to be an unhappy meeting. So she tread very lightly and quickly as she scoured the bars along the section of town she'd claimed for the night in order to check out leads she thought were reasonably sound.
"'Ey…'ey…we're all friends here…" Matches Malone found himself in the middle of a slight scuffle. A rather petty scuffle, at that. It was a necessary evil, despite how much it vexed the persona lying beneath it. Batman had been working to get into this smuggling ring. This boss tended to deal in exotic antiques, so this was the one group in which he was sure to hear of this statue Luthor had been wanting so badly.
Matches Malone always seemed to have the connections to worm his way into most any deal he wanted in on. It worked just great for him, he seemed to be rolling in dough. He was even owed some favors by some high rollers for all of his 'service'.
But also of interest was Luthor's newest 'employee'. He'd never seen any pictures, but he knew Hope and Mercy were rogue Amazons, and since Diana had told him that Marti had left Themyscira on a mission.
It all tied into his search for the statue. Diana had passed along the standard 'it's extremely dangerous' warnings. He never believed in gods. No matter that he knew someone who had been a god. Goddess, really. Mystic powers – he never let them phase him.
She'd never had the chance to run what Dick had called 'the Gauntlet', and she this was probably as close to doing so as she ever would. Except instead of a single night of having to avoid being caught by the Batman, she was in it indefinitely. Desdemona had survived so far, but her number of contacts was slim, and her list of suspects was dimensionally skewed. It had taken straight brutality on multiple persons to create a workable list. For that, she'd got herself 'known' in the underworld fairly quickly. And, face it, she stood out: in full body mask, trench coat, and, out of self amusement, tiny silver wings inscribed on the outer ankles of her boots.
It wasn't too surprising that Desdemona strolling into a bar was greeted with unpleasant looks or quickly averted gazes. The latter were the ones she usually went after, if nothing else presented itself. But she'd also been dropping Luthor's money, at carefully selected occasions, letting it get around that she had a generous employer. Settling at the bar, she took a moment to study the occupants more closely. By the time she had a bottle of beer in hand, she'd picked out the men she was there to talk to and sauntered over.
Sadly, Desdemona had been a little too heavy handed in her reputation making, at least with this particular gang. They weren't all that inclined to talk to her, even when money was on the table. They seemed more inclined to try and take the competition out of the way… Meaning there was someone out there as interested in the statue as Luthor. Lovely. The end result was a bar-full of unconscious and dazed men. She didn't get a boss' name out of it, but she did know they didn't have the statue yet as one of them admitted they'd been planning a raid of a competitor's hideout. A quick search of their persons had yielded the address of the place, scrawled inside a matchbook. Dropping it into her pocket, she stalked out into the street.
"I suppose you found that terribly clever."
Diana had told him she had left Themyscira. It hadn't taken too much trouble to find that she had taken employ under Luthor. He didn't see her as the type to work for Luthor, even to get back at a father she hated. No, it meant she was running errands for Hippolyta.
"What's so special about this statue that everyone is after so badly?"
No one ever seemed to know why it was so valuable, only that they had to have it. A lot of nonsense if you asked him.
But then , a lot of things were nonsense to him.
He wouldn't be accusatory over her new employer. Yet. He was still high on the list of people wanting to see Luthor burn, but he would likely have to get in line behind Clark. Unless of course, Clark wouldn't mind Bats doing the work instead. Vindictiveness was more his forte than Kal's.
She'd only gotten a short distance from the bar when she was startled out of her chain of thought by an all too familiar voice. Her muscles tensed, but then whose wouldn't? And she had as much reason to be concerned over his presence as the rest of the city's criminals… even if her motivation for being so was different. The question was, did he know her for Marti, or just as Desdemona? Bet on him knowing everything, that was probably the safe bet.
"Actually, I found that terribly time wasting."
She turned her head to pick his form out of the darkness, then cast a glower towards the end of the street where the headlights of a car were turning into view. She made no excuses, simply made herself scarce from the open street, moving from alley to rooftop, figuring he'd be one step ahead of her on that anyway. She ought to work a grapple line into Desdemona's artillery, she mused. When he was in proximity again, she murmured, "The Aphneios is an ancient statue from the temple of Ares. Famous sculptor, rare stone, reputed to grant the owner their greatest desire…" Should she tell him it was cursed? Would he believe it? She did have proof… possibly. "It's actually cursed."
"Everything involving that island is accursed." A gross over exaggeration, granted, but the Grecian Pantheon certainly caused enough troubles for mankind, let alone Gotham City.
"So this statue is merely a tool to make people fight over it, making conflict for Ares?" He knew the mythology. He just thought it was bunk. He had plenty to deal with with mere mortals who deluded themselves into believing themselves Zeus without having to worry over which God had to be appeased and do which Masonic handshake when.
"More or less." It could have been an agreement to both statements, who really knew? "It only effects the minds of men – Ares was a chauvinist, apparently. It plays on their ambitions… The effect doesn't die off when the thing's out of their hands, if anything, it gets worse. Men will do anything to get their hands on that statue. As a result, it changes hands fairly quickly." Desdemona crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing the street below. "But I'm sure you've noticed the change in Luthor. I have, and I can't say I know the boss-man all that well. It was apparently enough to encourage Hope and Mercy to vouch for me just so they'd have another hand in getting it back."
"So why the delay to strap plastique to it and do the world a favor? Or are the Amazons so attached their men-destroying playthings?" But if Luthor's main playthings were worried, it was probably something to look into.
As much as it was vindictively amusing to know that Luthor was hooked on a chunk of rock, letting Luthor play his petty games in general society was not something he would allow. Especially not in Gotham. It had to be gotten rid of, and quickly.
Marti's scowl was hidden by her mask. "I have it on reliable authority that the explosives thing won't cut it." She eyed him a moment. Her tone softened a little. Swallow her pride and apply some of that diplomacy and tact she was forced to swallow on Themyscira, right? "Play this one from the sidelines, huh, Batman? You may think the whole curse thing is a joke, but given where your ambitions lay… is it worth risking what that statue might do to your morals? If you stay off our backs, Hope, Mercy and I can get the Aphneios out of Gotham and out of your hair."
"The risk is one I have to take with your boss after it. You have until midnight tomorrow to find it and get out of Gotham, or I make you leave. Then you can get back to sitting on your respective bosses' laps, be it Amazon or Luthor."
He was gone in a swirl of cape at that. He planned on being partly true to his word, at that. He wasn't taking action until the time ran out, but he would hunt it down with everything he could until then.
Marti furrowed her brow as he just took off. Typical. But then what had she been expecting? She was just the alter-dimensional orphan with a history of hanging out with the wrong crowd. Even if he had given her a chance to explain herself, he wouldn't have trusted her anyway. Inhaling a calming breath, she made an unconvincing attempt at reminding herself that Batman's opinion didn't mean anything to her, because he wasn't her father. The attempt was very unconvincing, and as she made her way across town to check out the lead she'd gotten at the bar, she couldn't help brooding over it. It did matter, simply because he was who he was. It would just never be good enough for her, either.
She had at least gained the room to breathe without having to worry about crossing paths with him. That gave her a little more focus, and in a way, the pressure of the deadline helped to clear her head a little. By the time, several hours later, that she crossed paths with Hope, the two had fallen on a solid and very warm trail. A few knocked heads and several hours after that, they found themselves joined by Mercy and involved in a gunfight over possession of the statue.
The warehouse was a veritable madhouse. Even thugs from the same gang were taking shots at each other. Leaving Hope and Mercy to hold down an escape route, Marti made a completely reckless charge 'behind enemy lines' to get her hands on the statue. Marti… didn't like guns. And more than that, she didn't want to be on the scene when Batman showed up to break things up. It was too close to the wire and too much of a conflict to believe he'd be looking the other way.
A gentle noise behind some crates had attracted Mercy's attentions. Hope was still there to fend off their opponents, while Mercy tended to the would-be distraction. As it so happened, the red, yellow, and green suited Boy Wonder was there, making noise by shifting his weight back and forth on the old wooden flooring.
"Heh. Guess this means my game's over." Robin's amused attitude didn't seem all that sheepish. Mercy's attitude was decidedly worse. A gun was leveled at his forehead. "Over. How fitting." The hammer clicked back, but the trigger never made it home, as the darkly-clothed Batman came slamming into her from the side.
Mercy hit the crates hard, winding her. A one-two combo, followed by a nasty uppercut sent Mercy to the floor, sprawled in unconsciousness.
"It's the stinkin' Bat!", came the yells of the hired thugs. They weren't going to confront the Batman. They lived here. They knew better.
Hope merely retrained her aim from the thugs to Batman. Luthor and Bats basically hated each other, and Luthor usually avoided Gotham to keep away from its guardian angel.
Luthor wouldn't mind her bringing the Bat down, surely. But the Bat had already lashed out again, a Batarang savagely lashing out to knock the gun from her hand, making it sting with the accidental discharge. She fared no better than Mercy had in the hand-to-hand part. The rest of the thugs were rounded up easily, but Batman kept his word. He'd seen Marti leave, though she had been leaving with the statue.
He would have loved to deprive Luthor of it, but trusting that Marti wasn't lying about the statue, he settled for taking Luthor's dignity, leaving Hope and Mercy dangling near Commissioner Gordon's office, leaving them to explain their being tied up as such.
Marti had heard someone else enter the fray, but when she heard some of the goons announce who it was… She made the decision that Hope and Mercy could fend for themselves. She had the statue in her hands, and there was only one person she was forking it over to. Borrowing a motorcycle from some goons that wouldn't be needing it, she tore across town to the old cathedral that she favored, where she'd stashed the fake. A simple incantation on the fake served to summon the Greek FedEx, or in this case, the less than cherubic herald of Zeus.
Marti hadn't even had time to take her hands off the false idol when he appeared in front of her, winged sandals beating gently to keep him aloft. Since she was halfway there anyway, she gave him a half bow.
The herald raised a golden brow. "Don't be so reverent, Des, it's frightening coming from you."
Marti smirked, and picked up the Aphneios. "On your word, godling. You will not pause for so much as a breath until this is in the hands of Hippolyta."
"You don't trust me?"
"If I didn't trust you, Hermes, I'd be taking the chance of getting mugged taking this back myself. So…"
Hermes sighed, rolled his eyes, then gestured over his heart. "Cross my heart and hope to die. I'll see the Aphneios safe into Queen Hippolyta's hands." He paused. "And, I trust, a message that you're not returning to Themyscira."
Marti simply nodded, tossing him the statue, dropping the fake in a duffel bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "I liked Themyscira, but Gotham's my home. This may not be my Gotham, but it's were I belong."
That seemed to end the conversation. Marti bid her mentor of the past two years farewell, then made with speed back to Metropolis to give Luthor the statue. He informed her of Mercy and Hope's fate. She felt bad… for Hope. It was at Luthor's request she returned to Gotham the next morning to bail them out. Which she did for Hope's sake. She would have gleefully left Mercy to rot. She didn't return with them to Metropolis, however. Instead, she set out to find Batman.
Batman found her easily enough. Hope and Mercy being bailed out was not exactly something well hidden, and he was alerted almost immediately, both to their release and the person making bail.
He had said all he needed to, and left it to Marti to say her peace. He just stood nearby, a silent statue that never moved.
Icy silence. It wasn't encouraging. She should have been used to it, but so desperate for some sign of approval from the cowled form, it had always managed to shake her. Now was no different. After a few moments, she murmured, "Luthor has a fake, so he's happy and no longer looking at Gotham. I was told the effects of the statue would wear off fairly quickly now that it's been entombed." She found herself quickly run into silence as well. Somehow simply asking if she could 'join the team' was quite out of the question. Still, she tried to aim the conversation that way, and choked out a hesitant, "I'm not going back to Themyscira."
"I see."
It didn't seem to matter much. Though despite the stony silence, he was actually grateful she had gotten Luthor's talons away from his city. Only those who knew him well would realize he did feel grateful for such, despite never showing it.
But what exactly that was supposed to change was a mystery. She still worked for Luthor, and she'd have to know he could likely never trust her knowing that.
His further silence was almost as loud as a prompt to continue.
The thing that had truly irked her about her father was that she'd never been able to provoke him into a shouting match. This was a case of that same cold, quiet but painfully obvious disdain, and it was working to the same ends on Marti as it always had. He wasn't even going to ask why she was working for Luthor, was he? She didn't even merit the question. He was just going to assume the worst. He wasn't going to say anything at all. She'd never quite figured out how to deal with the silences. After a few moments to wipe the scowl out of her voice, she murmured, "Luthor paid well. Mercy will probably cheerfully try to slit my throat one night, but at least I can swing an apartment for a while." It came off colder than she'd meant for it to, anyway. She'd only been meaning to express that she wouldn't have to lurk around the Manor this time around. In retrospect, she realized it came off as gloating over her newly acquired job.
When one was an acquaintence of Batman, outside of serving as his partner, anyhow, one learned to read facial expressions, or one endured a long quiet. But she knew he wanted an explanation on why she'd worked for Luthor. Even if Marti wasn't here to gloat over the job, she wasn't even doing that all that well. It became a painful reminder that he had other things to be doing.
"If you'll excuse me."
He turned on a heel, moving deeper into the shadows he had 'appeared' in. He did have much better things to be doing than listening to her stories, be they boasting or not. If she wanted to say something, he was going more slowly than normal. She had a few seconds still.
Marti clenched her jaw as the man simply turned to walk off, then muttered, "Hippolyta's absolutely right about you." It was something spiteful to say, anyway, even if it wasn't something she believed.
Mostly, she was annoyed with herself. She was the screw up. Batman was never wrong about people, right? Her father had hated her, and this one didn't seem to keen on her himself. It was probably a sign that Selina, Harley, and Luthor really were the types she belonged with.
"You could have at least said thank you for getting Luthor out of your hair. But then I guess you probably feel you could have done that on your own." No, she'd never learned how to deal with her father, and so trying to provoke this Batman out of his silence was the recourse fallen to. She had yet to learn it would never work.
Batman merely glanced over his shoulder at Marti, fixing her pointedly in his toneless stare. He wasn't biting that baited remark. He simply produced a grapple line from his belt, aimed it at a distant building, and fired. When she decided that he was not her father, and stopped projecting whatever bitterness she'd worked up about him onto himself, then he would talk.
He was gone in a swirl of cape. He didn't hate Marti, and he was glad she'd gotten Luthor out of Gotham. But yeah, he was the Batman. He'd wanted to help her, but she was intent on helping herself, which was fine, but going to Luthor was not a way he would have suggested. It was just like Dick all over again. Someone who'd been close to him, well, close to a version of him, and had split away, and neither saw eye to eye.