Heritage Reclaimed

Part Two: Initiation

            Martha Wayne had always had a problem fitting in. Not surprising when one realized that her father was Batman, and her mother whom she'd never known the identity of had died when Marti was still a baby. She'd tried being 'daddy's little girl'. It never worked out, due to her father's busy work schedule. And when she'd found out exactly why his work schedule was so impenetrable, she'd only tried harder to get close to her father. Wayne Enterprises wasn't the part of the family trade she was interested in inheriting. Unfortunately, Batman had declared his heir to be the adopted Dick Grayson. And even more insulting, when Dick had started trying to mentor Marti even as he was being instructed, Bruce had sent her away to a number of boarding schools.

She'd taken that to mean he was annoyed to have spawned a daughter, and had tried to prove she was as useful as Dick. She'd borne out the boarding schools, hoping that by acing her way through the programs and picking up several languages as well as things like ballet, theatre, gymnastics, fencing and karate in the process, Batman would see how serious she was about joining himself and Robin. Every year she'd convinced herself that when she came home for the summer, he'd tell her that she'd proven herself and that she could stay in Gotham instead of going back for the next term. Her optimism had been worn to nonexistent by her final years of high school. Barbara Gordon joining 'the family' was the straw that broke the camel's back.When Bruce had failed to so much as nod in approval of his little angel, she'd fallen to louder, more juvenile acts, only to be shifted off for Alfred to reason with. Marti had rebelled, terrorized, and ultimately ran away from boarding school. And it got just as much of a reaction out of her father as anything else.

So when Selina Kyle showed up one cold and rainy night, full of sympathy belonging to someone else who had been hurt by Bruce Wayne, offering to take the younger woman under her wing – or, in this case, paw – Marti had all to easily fallen into what was likely nothing more than Catwoman wanting to try and take a stab at her ex and nemesis. Marti probably would have become a thief as well, if she hadn't been talked out of it by her other mentor in the underworld, Harleen Quinzel. Harleyquinn may have been cracked in some ways, but underneath all the layers of thrill-seeking clown was still a compassionate psychiatrist, and perceptive enough to know that Marti didn't really want to be a crook, and had encouraged Marti to learn what she could without openly crossing the Batman. She'd made another futile attempt at returning to the fold, this one halted when her previously loyal big brother turned on her and accused her of being one of Selina's thugs. That accusation from Dick had stung, but she'd kept trying to win her brother back.

It turned out she needn't have bothered. Only a mere few months after that, her father, not to mention the rest of the 'the family' and half of Gotham's Rogues Gallery were slaughtered by the new power player in town, Dennis Markinson. 'Denmark,' as he was quickly branded, didn't play games. He simply got masks out of the way and shot the people behind them. Marti found herself left alone in a veritable no-man's land trying to take down the madman that had created it.

Adding insult to injury, she found herself expelled from her own dimension into the mainstream, where she was nearly committed into Arkham Asylum after confronting a Batman and Joker she was convinced were fakes. It was this Batman who was able to identify whom her mother was – Diana of Themyscira. And after finding out that there was no longer a dimension for her to be sent back to, knowing that she couldn't handle living under the shadow of this Batman-that-wasn't-her-father, Marti had set out to Themyscira try and learn about her mother's side of the family. She'd earned an Amazon name – Desdemona - and lasted a surprising two years before she'd been forced to give up on fitting in there as well. An opportune mission into the Patriarch's world served to get her out of Hippolyta's hair, and that mission had led her to Lex Luthor. A promise to one of her few friends on the island to look for her sister Hope pointed to Hope Taya, one of Luthor's body guards. And since Luthor was investing vast amounts of resources in getting his hands on the statue she herself was looking for, Desdemona had made the effective deal with the devil and joined his ranks.

She'd meant it to be temporary. She'd meant to return to Gotham when it was over and try and make a new home for herself there. But two very short conversations with Batman had served to bring out the bitterness she thought she'd gotten over while on Paradise Island, and she found herself accepting employment from Luthor on a more permanent basis, having given in to doubts that it had been her father, Dick Grayson, and Selina Kyle that had been right; that her true nature was that of a criminal.

Employ with Luthor hadn't been that taxing so far. Mercy loathed her, of course, but Hope often made for pleasant company. Lex paid his bodyguards well, and she hadn't been asked to do anything more than minor theft and sabotage. Until…

"You've done well for me, these past few weeks, Desdemona," Luthor had intoned once she'd settled in front of his desk, her hands clasped behind her back. "Mercy seems to think you're ready to be entrusted with a little more than the status of a bodyguard."

"I'm flattered." She wasn't, really. It had reeked of set-up on Mercy's part.

"You should be," Mercy murmured in response. "But you've earned this."

"What exactly do you have in mind, Mister Luthor?"

"As I'm sure you've noticed… Superman presents a rather large problem. He seems to have it in for myself and my company."

 "I can't imagine why," she'd replied in a dry amused tone. It didn't take much to speculate on where the conversation was going. And she didn't like it. "Given the amount that LexCorp puts back into the community with its developments. If anything, he should be helping you."

Luthor had quirked a half smile. "Yes. He should. But he seems to feel that what I give doesn't justify what I take." Luthor had paused, steepling his fingers to study her a moment, then had continued, "As you know, I have a rather precarious deal in the works at the moment, and Superman making an appearance could make for quite an unfortunate turn of events."

"So you want me to distract him for a couple days?"

"No," Mercy interjected, a slight grin on her own lips. "We want you to kill him."

Marti's eyes flickered between Luthor and Mercy, more of a matter of performance than out of actual surprise, and she threw her head back and laughed. Luthor raised a brow, and when Marti caught the look she choked down the laughter, but was still grinning. "Right. I'm just gonna go take a gun and blow off his head, right? He ain't called the man of steel for nothing. He's invincible."

Luthor nodded slightly, and uttered the phrase she'd been waiting for. "Usually, yes. But he has one very big weakness. A stone called Kryptonite."

"And you just happen to have a piece?"

Sliding open a drawer on his desk, Luthor produced a cigar-box sized container that appeared to be lined with lead. Placing it on the desk, he opened it. The rock inside cast a green glow on Marti's face as she leaned forward to take a look at it.

"That stuff radioactive?"

"To humans, only minimally so."

"So I just chuck this at him and he melts?"

"More or less."

            He wasn't melting, though. Instead, he seemed to be dying a slow and agonizing death. She hadn't expected that the Kryptonite would work so quickly on him. Perhaps she'd even expected that she'd be the one getting clobbered. But she hadn't. Everything had worked smoothly as Luthor had described. The 'kidnapping' of the politician style bait which Superman had showed up to rescue, just as predicted. She'd produced the rock, and he'd keeled over in a matter of seconds. Mercy and Hope had taken Senator Renfield elsewhere and gone to back up Luthor, leaving Marti to get rid of the corpse of the city's protector. Marti had shackled him and drug him down here to the big rock. It had only been five minutes since she'd taken the lead cover off it, but it felt like a lot longer.

"It's Desdemona… isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I guess… this is your initiation into… Luthor's ranks."

"Maybe."

"That really what you want?"

            Martha Wayne found herself unable to avoid the gaze of the man chained to the wall across the room from her. His eyes were a light blue, like her own, but both pairs of eyes were tainted almost aqua by the chunk of glowing green rock that lay on a pedestal between them. Any thoughts that might have been visible on her face were hidden underneath the black mask she'd taken up wearing. Unlike his face, which in its clenched jaw and strained blood vessels freely exhibited what the man was feeling: pain. But the look in his eyes said this wasn't merely just an empty attempt to save his life. He was actually concerned for her. She was killing him, and he was trying to save her from herself.

Marti scowled, and looked away, pacing towards the door of the room. Luthor had said stay and watch, just to be sure he didn't manage a last minute escape this time. But he obviously wasn't going anywhere. There was no need for her to stay and watch him die.

"It's not… too late… to stop this."

Her scowl darkened. Yes, there was. As Harley had always told her, there wasn't any sense in being a half-hearted bad guy. If she was going to kill someone, Marti wasn't going to shelter herself from the full impact of the deed. And that meant bearing out his last ditch moral prodding. She snorted slightly, turning to lean against the wall again. "What makes you think I want to?"

"We both know… you're no killer…"

"What do you know?" she scornfully inquired. She was sure her doubts weren't that readable on her face, just as she was sure he was no telepath. Her eyes found his again, wondering if he did have inside knowledge. If he did, he wasn't revealing it.

            "You proved it… That train wreck…"

            A few days before the whole kill-Superman mess, Desdemona, Mercy, and Hope had raided the lab of one of Luthor's competitors to do a little artful sabotage. Things had gotten a little out of hand, and in order to cover their escape, Mercy had set off an explosion that had derailed the Elevated Rail, in the process taking out a transformer on the street below. Superman would have his hands full with the metro. And she didn't have it in her to see if he really was fast enough to clean up everything. Not when lives were at stake. Marti hadn't had to hesitate in her decision to turn back and try and fix things before someone got killed. Fortunately, no one did. And Hope and Mercy had gotten away, so there had been no recriminations from Luthor.

            Though, looking back, Marti wagered that had been what provoked this little 'test' of theirs.

            Marti found her scowl had wavered, and so forced it back into place. She also found her eyes were on the floor. She didn't fix that. "So I don't like watching innocent bystanders get fried. What about it?"

            But no answer came.

Her eyes flickered upwards. Superman's form had gone slack, and from where she stood, it didn't look like he was breathing. Marti's blue eyes widened, and she nearly stopped breathing herself, until she saw the man draw a slow, ragged breath. Diving forward around the pedestal, she pulled out the key to the shackles and released him, catching him across her shoulders as he fell.

            Shifting herself to support him more evenly, she half drug half carried the man out into the corridor. Where she found Mercy and several armed guards waiting for her. "I knew you couldn't hack it, Desdemona. I can't say I'm disappointed. I've been wanting to put a slug between those pretty blue eyes of yours." Mercy snapped at the guards. "Put him back in the oven."

            Marti let Superman's body slide as gently as she could manage to the floor. Given the time involved, and his soft grunt, it obviously wasn't that gentle. Mercy, not taking any chances on Desdemona putting up a fight, fired off two shots. Her aim was dead on for Marti's forehead.

            Too bad they got deflected off her the bracelets on her wrists.

            "Well. Aren't you full of surprises, Desi." Mercy didn't look amused. "Forget moving him. Turn her them Swiss cheese."

            Knocking away one or two shots she could manage, but Marti didn't fancy her odds against fending off a full assault, given the weaponry present. She didn't trust herself to try it. She also didn't know how Superman would hold up to the assault, given his present state. Cursing herself for ever abandoning her father's tool belt, among other things, Marti stepped back over Superman's body, swinging the loose-fitting trench coat she wore around over him to provide them both a little more protection.

Keeping her left arm up to fend shots away from her head, her other fingers fumbled in her sleeve liming to work free the small gas pellets stashed there for just this kind of situation. In a matter of moments, the hallway was filled with a thick cloud of knockout gas. As soon as the shots stopped, she tugged a re-breather out of her coat pocket and slipped it on, producing her spare which she placed on the man at her feet, stooping to lift him again to a point where she could arrange him across her shoulders again, and set off down the hallway, stepping over guards. The gas was starting to clear out. She didn't see Mercy's body.

The reason why was revealed moments later when she turned a corner and caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Mercy had a re-breather of her own. And that was the exact place Superman's fist made contact with as the woman had brought her gun up. Mercy's head slammed back into the wall, and she appeared to be down for the count.

Marti scowled as Superman slid down off her shoulders so that his feet were on the ground again. "You totally faked me out, didn't you?"

"Not as much as you think," he grunted. It was true, he was still leaning heavily on her as they made their way out of the warehouse via a stairway to the rooftop. "You're an Amazon?" he asked once they'd reached the free air.

"Not as much as you think," she replied quietly. The rooftop, at least, seemed clear of guards. No telling what else was about, if Mercy was still here. Marti helped Superman across the rooftop to lean against a ventilation unit, stripping off her re-breather.

"Where's Senator Renfield?" Superman asked, taking off his own and handing it back to her.

"Gone."

"Dead?"

"No. Just gone. Probably home by now, having a nice bath and chuckling over his adventure." Marti eyed Superman a moment, then said, "I'll take that to mean you had no idea Senator Renfield was on Luthor's payroll?"

 "No, I didn't. But I think I should have." Superman scowled a little himself. "How long will that knockout gas last?"

"I'd say about fifteen minutes."

"What was all this about?"

 "Merci wanting me out of Luthor's service, I'd imagine. In retrospect, I think I'm the only one that believed I'd go through with it. So I guess this was just a distraction to keep you out of Luthor's hair tonight."

Superman raised a brow. "I'd meant you working for a man like Luthor in the first place, but that can wait. What's Luthor up to?"

"Something a bit more personally involved than he generally risks." She tugged up the sleeve of her coat, revealing a watch situated past the bracelet. She scowled a little under the mask. If she made good speed across the city, she could probably get there and mess things up for Luthor. Of course, that was all dependant on Superman not dealing with her the way he'd dealt with Mercy.

She raised her eyes again to look at him, and found him watching her with a still raised brow. "I haven't been poking around for information as much as someone like me should have been, but I can tell you the meeting was at eight o'clock and it has something to do with Luthor supplying high tech arms to some foreign army." She paused, but when his look seemed to be asking if that was all, found herself hesitantly adding her own hypothesis. "Going out on a limb to make a guess… He's supporting a band of rebels bent on overthrowing their government in order to buy his way into the new regime. I'd guess either Brazil or Angola…"

"This, from someone who 'hasn't been poking around'." The Man of Steel looked mildly amused. Apparently he wasn't in any rush, either still too weak from the exposure to Kryptonite, or simply not through with Desdemona yet. Possibly both, though judging by the way his eyes were sort of narrowed on her, it seemed Desdemona's mask had just become a moot point. Not that he looked like he had gotten anything valuable out of it. She knew he'd seen her face before. "Where's this meeting supposed to take place?"

 "I was told North Ridge. I overheard St. Martins. My money's on a Yacht off the East Side. Luthor was wearing his sailing shoes when I left this afternoon." Marti had dropped her hands in her pockets, falling into her habitual slouch. She felt better for playing the stoolie and giving Superman this information, but now that the shock had worn off, the guilt factor over what she'd nearly done was setting in. "I doubt you'd find anything incriminating enough to nail him with, Superman," she muttered after a moment, "But he did seem worried an appearance from you might scare off his contact and ruin the deal."

"I'll settle for what I can get." He paused himself, then said quietly, "I'm not through with you by any means, Desdemona –"

"You'll find me on the roof of the Warner Theater at midnight," she said, cutting him off. She knew he didn't need her help in storming in on Luthor, but she thought she could at least get him Renfield, and maybe a few other minor people. Not that that made up for anything. "I'm going to go clean out my locker at LexCorp." Marti was surprised to find that Superman nodded silently in agreement. And then, just like that, he was gone, marked only by the breeze that ruffled the hems of her trench coat.

Three hours later found her waiting on the rooftop as she'd promised. She was early. So was Superman. He drifted down out of nowhere almost before she'd settled comfortably underneath a satellite dish. Marti pulled a disc case from her pocket, displayed it long enough to show it wasn't harmful, then tossed it to him.

"What's this?"

"Everything Luthor's got on Renfield. And a few other people he's been blackmailing that have been a little less enthusiastic as the good Senator. I didn't get as much as I'd meant to. Apparently word gets around fast when someone is persona-non-grata at LexCorp."

"It usually does." Superman crossed his arms over his chest. He was silent for a few long moments, contemplating how he was going to handle the situation he was presented with. Finally, he admitted, "I'm still not quite sure what to do with you."

Marti chuckled dryly. "No one ever is." Silent a moment, she slid a lead box out of her coat pocket, placing it on the ground next to her. "I didn't think you'd want this left laying around."

"Bargaining chip to keep me from taking you in?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, now that I know you seem to be able to bounce back." She shoved the box so that it slid across the rooftop to land at his feet. She didn't have to comment any further than that. If she'd been intent on running, she simply wouldn't have shown up. "I'm sure you know how to dispose of it better than I do."

"Who are you, really?"

"Nobody." It was said without a trace of sarcasm in her voice. Marti was trying to get over any remaining juvenile tendencies. She raised her eyes to study his form, which from this perspective was quite intimidating. But not nearly as unnerving as the Batman – Superman, at least, spoke. Still, it was tough not to come off as being difficult. She had a lot to hide, and not for her own sake. "I spent the past two years on Themyscira. They gave me the name Desdemona."

"And before that?"

"Nothing. I didn't exist in this dimension."

"This… dimension?"

"Don't look for an explanation from me, chief, I still don't understand it myself. I got here, somehow, and some Green Lantern guy told me I couldn't be sent back because my dimension didn't exist any longer." Silence again. Marti lowered her eyes to the box at his feet. There was no apologizing for what she'd nearly done. There was no making up for it. Her childish temper tantrums had gone far too far this time.

"How did you get from Themyscira to LexCorp?"

"I was sent on an errand into the 'Patriarch's World' and took it as an opportunity not to return. One of my friends on the island who knew I wasn't coming back asked me to look for her sister. Hope. Working for Luthor seemed like a good deal at first…" she trailed off. "No. That's not true. It was a sour deal from the beginning, and I knew it. I was just out to prove to myself that I was a bad seed like I'd always been told I was."

"Trying to live up to what you feel are other people's opinions of you rarely leads to anything but trouble."

"I know. But some people's expectations are hard to shake."

"So what was your expectation for yourself?"

Marti smirked wryly. "That I'd end up as a sidekick for a guy in tights." All right, so it was Kevlar, but Marti was trying to make damn sure Batman didn't come in to this by even a long shot. As she'd hoped, Superman took the remark as a joke, and chuckled slightly. So she offered a more serious answer. "I just want to find out where I belong, Superman. Even in my own dimension, I didn't have a place. Here…" she trailed off with a shrug.

            "Well." The Man of Steel took a moment to consider, then stooped to pick up the lead case. "Now that you're a little more clear on where you don't belong, I think you'll have an easier time figuring out where you do." That being said and done, he turned, starting for the more open edge of the roof.

            Marti blinked a little again. That was it? He was just… letting her go? "Superman…"

            He glanced over his shoulder. "Just to warn you, Desdemona, I don't like vigilantes in my city. Even well meaning ones." There might have been a spark of amusement in his eyes as he added, "Try Gotham. It seems to be a theme there."

            Whether the amusement was from the fact he did know more about her than he'd let on, or out of the idea of sending someone to terrorize Batman, she didn't know. And as he simply took off into the late night sky without further comment, she doubted she'd get the chance to find out.