SMOKE AND MIRRORS BY COMPULSIVE WRITER
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Garfield Logan lost his parents a long time ago, when he was just a toddler and he and his family lived in Africa. His father had been a scientist, and at the time of his tragic death, he had managed to break the evolutionary barrier. The machine he created could reverse the evolution of a human. Dr. Logan was forced to put his work on hold, however, when Gar contracted sakutia, a deadly disease similar to malaria.
Grief-stricken, his father swore that he would not be burying his son. He used his invention to turn Gar into a green money and kept him that way until the disease had left his system. Gar only dimly remembered being freed of the illness, though he knew the cure's bizarre side effect, how his skin had changed color, and the great power that grew in him, resulting in his namesake.
Odd, though, how clearly he remembered his parents' death, and the pointy-eared demon that had been responsible…
Gotham was his city. The dark was his sanctuary.
On a typical night, he would join with the shadows and the rooftops, investigating leads that he had heard from the grapevine here and there. It wasn't exactly his job—some people considered him a graver threat than the criminals he routinely put behind bars—but someone had to do it, and God knew that no one understood the darkness like the Caped Crusader. Needless to say, whenever trouble brewed, Batman was usually there.
The night was quiet; he had been on the prowl for the better part of two hours. Thick smog rolled over the rooftops, but that was a help rather than a hindrance. Batman relished the sanctuary of shadows. He lived for it.
He moved over the rooftops, a silent sentinel.
While on patrol, Batman usually was allowed to get his mind off of his normal life, his life as the billionaire Bruce Wayne, if it could be called normal. This day, however, all that he could think about was the girl.
Kara Evans had walked into his life a week ago. This morning, she had unexpectedly stepped out, in more ways than one. He had shared his bed with her last night. When he awoke, refreshed, more alive than he had felt in years, he was alone.
Kara was a farm girl turned mystery novelist whom he had met during a fund-raiser at a party seven days ago. Now, she was gone. To where, he didn't know, but apparently she had lost interest in him. Bruce had gone into hiding shortly thereafter to work on research within the Batcave. Alfred called it "unhealthy," but Bruce figured running about a crime-ridden city in a giant batsuit wasn't exactly the healthiest of lifestyles.
On the streets below, a scream echoed into the night. Batman spun toward the sound and raced for the edge of the roof to peer over the side. His eyes widened.
Some fifty feet in the alley below, a woman had been backed against the wall by what appeared to be a giant, green tiger. The Caped Crusader, though a little weary about the situation, knew the woman needed help. He gripped the sides of his cape, lifting it up as he allowed himself to drop over the edge and free-fall toward the streets below.
He descended onto the street, tackling the beast with blinding speed. The woman screamed again as she watched the two creatures tumbling away from her. The fight was violent. The big green cat flailed about wildly, clawing at the mysterious, shrouded figure. Meantime, the shadow struck out furiously, connecting each blow with the precision of a scalpel.
The battle was over soon after it began. Batman swiped a hidden blade across its cheek, forcing it to fall back and away from him, clawing at its injured cheek. Blood dribbled from the wound, staining his fur crimson.
Batman followed through with his attack. Stumbling back, desperate to escape, the cat suddenly changed. Taking the form of a crow, the green shape-shifter took to the sky and raced toward the rooftops. Batman watched it flee, his eyes narrowing to angry slits.
He turned to face the woman, but she was already running in the opposite direction. He didn't blame her. The streets were an ominous place in Gotham after nightfall, and what she had just gone through didn't help matters.
At his belt came the familiar chime of his communicator. Batman frowned and reached for his grappling gun. He would return to the rooftops to take the call in solitude.
From the darkest shadows within the alley where the Caped Crusader fought the changeling, a shape took form in the dense haze, even bigger than the Bat himself. Rancor watched his newfound challenge with a grin of interest.
The Teen Titans had such interesting idols.
* * *
He touched down on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse, the heavy fog swirling about him as he moved through the darkness. When he was sure he was alone, Batman took the communicator from his utility belt and lifted it to his lips.
"What is it?" His voice was grim, but that was a normalcy for the Caped Crusader, especially on a work night. Of course, Batman already knew who was on the other end of the transmission before his apprentice spoke.
"Batman, we're having a bit of trouble at Titans Tower."
"I know."
"But how–"
Batman grunted. "I had a run-in with one of your little friends."
Robin frowned. "Beast Boy. I guess that explains where he was taken."
"Your friend very nearly took a bite out of a young pedestrian, Robin. I think you owe me an explanation."
"He's been abducted by a telepathic madman." The Dark Knight took this news with a frown. Odd. Robin was a straightforward, honest kid. By the sound of his voice, his young comrade was frightened. Only Batman could detect such fear in his young friend; like himself, Robin was a master of masking his emotions. "We're coming to Gotham." Batman was silent. "He's our friend, our responsibility. Watch out for the telepath, Bats. He's a coward, but he's also deceiving. We had a little help, or he would have had us."
"A little help?"
"I'll explain when we get there. Gotham Plaza, two hours."
"Be careful."
"I'm more worried about you right now, Bats," Robin said. "This creep is very good at what he does. My guess is he's in Gotham for one reason."
Batman was silent. He understood exactly what Robin was talking about.
"Gotham Plaza," he finally agreed. "I'll be waiting."
The signal fizzled out, leaving the Dark Knight alone in the shadows of the night.
* * *
From within the swirling ball of light, two figures emerged: a young, female warrior, a Nasserian with skin as blue as the bluest sea and a four-foot-tall, red-skinned dwarf with a long, snow-white beard that reached to the bottom of his potbelly. He was draped in a gray robe and wore a matching, baggy hat atop his head. Frayed white hair dipped down below the rim of the cap; a tuft spilled out each pointed ear. The grim dwarf peered about and finally pointed toward the western horizon with his crystalline staff.
"This way, my dear. I sense your brother nearby, in that city."
The girl nodded. "Lead the way, Keeper," she whispered. She was an angry young woman, and fierce. Like the men of her bloodline, she was a cunning warrior. Her attire was deceiving. She wore a skimpy outfit, no more than a bikini of paper-thin fabric decorated with gilded steel and a short cape of white silk that fell just below her bust. Braided hair, long and black, fell over her left shoulder. For a Nasserian warrior, long hair traditionally indicated someone of high ranking, though in modern times that was no longer true. Regardless, the young warrior valued tradition, and being a skilled in the art of war, she honored her family with beautiful, ebony hair that fell past her knees. "We must find the thief and retrieve the relic he has stolen, or our entire world will crumble."
"Indeed," the Keeper replied, and started west. All around, the landscape, while vaguely familiar to the old dwarf, was very different from the vast, rocky wastelands of Nassera. The city sky-line, far ahead, was nowhere near similar to the massive tower that marked a Nasserian city.
Shani let out a soft cry as she saw a spark of light cut across the sky and race toward them. Squinting, the warrior watched as the blinding flash soared overhead, rising higher into the night sky and fade into a tiny spark. "What the blazes?" she whispered with guarded fury as the spark joined the stars in the heavens. Her sword, drawn the instant the object soared overhead, shone with a silver gleam by the light of the moon. "Otho?"
"It is to be some sort of flying machine," the dwarf replied. "Most importantly, by whatever means, Numara is on that vessel."
The girl gasped. "Numara?!" She turned on the dwarf, gripping his beard and pulling him close. "We must follow!"
"Calm down! Steady your hand, dear." The dwarf pulled away and straightened his beard. "Now then." He gave her a curious look. "Better? All right, we shall follow."
He turned from her, pointing his staff into the night, and in big, graceful arcs, swept the crystal through the darkness, rotating so that the motion was circular. The air about them began to swirl, lifting the Nasserian's white cape from her back, rippling against the soft breeze. In the center of the vortex created by the dwarf's rotation of the staff, a faint blue light appeared, gradually growing brighter as his pace quickened and the wind grew. The ball of light grew until a swirling vortex of light, borrowed from a piece of the Void, hovered in the air before them.
The dwarf-mage took her hand. "Now, dear, I am prepared. Let us follow."
Side by side, the dwarf and Nasserian walked into the vortex of light.