Disclaimer: Batman, Alfred, and other DC characters appearing in this fan- fic are, of course, DC's. Psion Force is all mine. This story is being written for fun, not profit.

Timeline: Four years before Knightfall. Roughly two years before Dick Grayson leaves to become Nightwing


Chapter 2: Questions, Answers, and Introductions

"What if he's still out?" Her fingers traced one of the stylized "W's" set into each gate.
Tabitha shook her head. "Bats are nocturnal," she replied, absolutely deadpan. "Sun comes up in less than an hour. He should be back. If you're concerned, you do have a way to verify."

Natalie looked away. "It's invading his privacy."

"Explain to me again how that's different from scanning an area telepathically when you're in the field?"

Natalie sighed. "It isn't really. It's just that in the field, it's vital to know if someone's sneaking up on you. It's—"she glanced up, sharply. "When I'm doing a surface scan, it's more defensive... passive. I just need to know how many minds are in the room with me, I don't really care who they are. It's the difference between glancing and staring. But to go scanning for one mind in particular..." she passed a hand over her eyes. "Forget it. Maybe I amjust being hypocritical. I do what I do if there's a life at stake, and this situation qualifies. Gimme a second." Slowly, she stretched her mind forward, gently... carefully... keeping her mental defenses as high as possible. That was the thing about telepathy—to be open to receive someone else's thoughts, you had to lower your own mental barriers in the process. Years of practice had given her powerful shields, but raising and lowering them was not something she enjoyed. It took less than a minute. "He's back. He's in an underground cave, which runs beneath and adjacent to the house. I guess that's where he prepares."

"How do you know it's not a basement?"

"Too much animal life, and too much of it is near the ceiling of the place. Either the man breeds them in his cellar in his spare time, or we'd call that a bat-cave no matter whose hangout it was."

"Is he alone? Apart from the animal life, I mean."

Natalie shook her head. "Nobody else in the cave, but there's someone awake and alert on ground level. No guarantee that he or she knows. And I'm not going to probe."

Tabitha nodded her understanding. She took a deep breath and rang the bell. No answer.

"The person on the ground floor heard you," Natalie said. "And it's a 'he'. He's just waiting a minute. Probably wants us to think he wasn't up. Ring it again." Tabitha complied. "I think He heard it in the cave, too."

"If there's no answer, I'm phasing us through," she warned.

A sleepy voice came out from the intercom. "Yes?"

"We need to speak with Mr. Wayne," Tabitha said, quickly.

"Mr. Wayne is indisposed at this hour," the voice said sternly.

"No, he's not," Tabitha said mildly.

"I-- beg your pardon?" Whoever he was, all pretense of drowsiness was now gone.

"Look," said Tabitha, "this is an emergency. I know Mr. Wayne is up. I know he usually is at this hour, and although we would love to fill you in on the details of how I know, we simply don't have the time. All I can tell you is that my sister and I have to speak to Mr. Wayne now."

"Please," Natalie interjected in a stage whisper.

"Please," amended Tabitha.

There was a long pause. Natalie suddenly had an inspiration. "Sir," she said, "Mr. Wayne met me at a roof party downtown about two years ago. He thought I was a little young to be at an affair like that, and who knows, maybe he was even right, but I'd like to believe I got him to reconsider. That's not what this is about. Please believe me. This is not a hoax, not a dare. But we can't say anything else without maybe telling you things he might not have told you--" Her voice trailed off. She wiped sweaty palms on her skirt.

With a rattle, the gates swung open. Tabitha clapped her on the shoulder. "Come on."


The two teenaged girls raced up the gravel path to the manor. As they reached the front door, it opened to reveal a sparely built man in his early sixties. He was impeccably dressed in pinstriped pants, white shirt, and black jacket and necktie. He ushered them inside with a raised eyebrow.

"Wait here," he said, showing them to a sitting room. "Mr. Wayne will be with you shortly."

Natalie smiled. "Thank-you, Mr—"

"Alfred Pennyworth, at your service," He inclined his head.

"And I'm Natalie Aaronson. This is my sister, Tabitha." Alfred extended his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Natalie took it. Tabitha followed suit.

After Alfred left, closing the door behind him, Natalie asked, "Should we have done that? Shook hands, I mean?"

Tabitha considered. "Would have been ruder not to. If you're dealing with someone who doesn't know about negiya, I think you're allowed to be lenient."

"Hope so," Natalie said, unconvinced. "So, do you think he knows what his boss is up to every night?"

Tabitha frowned. "Almost definitely. I mean, how does someone live under the same roof with someone else and not notice?"

"Ask Jill's parents," Natalie remarked. There really wasn't much to say after that, so the two sat silently.

And then the door opened again.

He was wearing a bathrobe over sweatpants, Natalie noted, and he looked tired. Either he thinks we're bluffing, or it's been a long night for him, too. Probably both. He looked quizzically at them. "Have we met?"

Natalie met his gaze levelly. "Twice before." The first time, I was wearing a gray suit. I... I believe you were too. I was scouting."

He leaned forward, suddenly alert. Mask or no mask, they were in the same room with Batman, now. "Kensai." It was not a question.

Natalie inclined her head slightly. "A team-mate is hurt. For obvious reasons, we'd rather keep her out of hospital. Since you've probably been in similar situations, we thought—I thought—you might be able to help us." She winced. Spoken aloud, it sounded pretty lame. And the last time he spoke to me, he told me I was going to get hurt, didn't he?

When he spoke again, it was with the faintest hint of amusement. "Alfred will be able to help you with that. Where is your friend?"

"In a van parked just out of sight of your main gate. I should probably check in with Silver Dragon, if that's alright."

That elicited a frown. "The manor has certain security measures in place which make radio contact difficult."

"How about telepathic contact?"

The man who was the Batman blinked. "So, that's how you found out—"

"Yes. Inadvertently."

The frown deepened. "Alright. Tell-- Silver Dragon to bring the van up to the front gate. Alfred will direct her from there." He left the room, and returned a moment later.

"Police band reported a crackhouse destroyed on Amusement Mile." His voice was almost casual. "A wrecking crane at the scene was--reduced to--melted slag. You?"

"Naiad." Natalie admitted. "After removing the crane operator, of course."

"We were in Oldtown, tonight," Tabitha provided. "The Krasinskys were expecting a certain munitions shipment which we, um, diverted to the Gotham Harbor Patrol instead."

"And the gang war in Tricorner?"

"Sil and Pathwarden."

"It sounds like you've been busy."

"Well, no more so than usual," Natalie said. "Um. What I found out two years ago was not revealed until tonight. Just so you know.

"They're coming," she added. "I—we really appreciate this. If a couple of total strangers turned up at my front door at five in the morning with a situation like this—"

"Natalie! Everything's working out, don't give the man ideas!"

"Do your parents know what you're up to?" He asked suddenly.

Tabitha met his gaze levelly. "Our mother walked out on us when I was six weeks old."

"And your father?"

"Died before I was born."

"I'm--sorry." He sounded it, too. Natalie knew why—she had done her homework on the man after her second encounter with him. "Who looks after you, then?"

"Silver Dragon," Natalie said. "Not that we need much looking after these days."

For what seemed an eternity, he did not speak. His eyes traveled from one to the other, stopping on Natalie. "You're older than she is, then?"

Natalie sighed. "Yes, by eleven months. Tabitha's taller, though," she added with a wry smile. It wasn't being short, per se, which annoyed her; it was being shorter than her younger sister by nearly four inches. Still, she should be used to that particular reality by now.

Alfred opened the door. "Begging your pardon, Master Bruce, but they are here."

Bruce extended an arm. "Shall we?"

The two girls got up immediately and followed him through the front hallway, then into a paneled study. A large grandfather clock, which should have been flush with the wall stood at an angle, revealing a dim stairway. The walls were irregular stone.

"Natural cave?" Tabitha asked as they proceeded down.

"Yes."


In the cave, Callie and Brandon had transferred Jill to a waiting cot. Alfred was assisting with an IV. Bruce looked around him. All told, there were seven of them, a man who appeared to be in his middle twenties, and six girls and women whose ages seemed to span from early teens to middle twenties. The tall woman with the long jet-black hair, who had to be Silver Dragon, didn't look more than twenty-five. How old could she have been when she took charge of her younger teammates? All were in civilian garb by this time, the girls and women in high-necked, long-sleeved tops, and long skirts; the man wore an Oxford cloth shirt and corduroys. It was the skullcap on his head, and the long fringes dangling from his waist that clinched it. Bruce couldn't quite keep from being surprised. You just didn't run into many Orthodox Jews in spandex. Although, now that he came to think of it, Kensai hadn't worn spandex, that night. She was the only team member he'd ever taken a good look at in costume, but loose tunics, leggings, and helmets did seem to be their regulation uniforms.

The tall woman met his gaze with a smile. "I'm Callantha Aaronson," she introduced herself, stepping forward. You've met my two youngest sisters, Natalie and Tabitha. This is my brother, Brandon, and my younger sister Maybelle," she indicated the shorter of the two other women. She gestured to the cot. "And this is Jill Perkal." She smiled self-consciously. "Or, if you would prefer, in order of introduction," she pointed first to herself and then to each team member in turn, "Silver Dragon, Kensai, Umbra, Pathwarden, Naiad, and Phasma."

"I guess that makes me 'Chopped Liver,' then" called the only remaining figure.

"Mr. Wayne," Callantha continued, "allow me, please, to present Kay Berger, a woman who consistently reminds the rest of us that wearing a costume is not a prerequisite to being a hero."

"In other words, I'm backstage crew. Cal, if you don't need me for anything, I'm going to study in the van."

"Go ahead." She looked at Bruce. "I'm sure my sisters have already thanked you, but please, let me add my gratitude. I'm in my first year of medicine and I froze." This last was given as an explanation, rather than an excuse, without a trace of defensiveness. Despite himself, that impressed him.

"You were lucky this time," he said sternly. "Next time—"

"Next time we'll deal with next time" she said firmly. "Alison's due back in four days. She's our regular medic. Also Jill's sister." She sighed. "I should see if Mr. Pennyworth needs any help. Can we pick this up afterwards?"

Before Bruce could answer, Alfred approached. "Four broken ribs, serious, but not critical blood loss, a hairline fracture of the left humerus, and various bruises and lacerations. Your friend should make a full recovery. It was necessary to sedate her, however. I would recommend that she remain here for at least one day, for observation."

Callie exhaled gratefully. "Baruch HaShem!" she exclaimed.

"She'll be okay?" Maybelle called out. "I'll tell Bron!"

Cal turned back to Bruce. "I think you were about to give me a lecture about how dangerous this sort of work is."

He raised an eyebrow. "How likely will it be to stop you?"

"Not very," she admitted. "But, if you feel you have to deliver it anyway, it looks like I have the time to listen, now."

Bruce frowned. "How long have you been operating?"

"I started Psion Force—that's what we call ourselves when we're not just 'the team'--twelve years ago. We trained for about two years, and then spent the next six working out of Toronto. We'd been living there since I was ten, so it just seemed natural to make it our base of operations. We've been in Gotham for the last four years. So that's a decade in the field, give-or-take a month or so."

Dick had been barely thirteen when he had started leading the Teen Titans, he thought. So, Callie would have been about that age when she had begun the team. To confirm, he asked, "You were fifteen when you started your night activities?"

"Twelve." She looked down. "We all developed our metahuman talents early. I was about nine when it got to the point that I couldn't explain mine away anymore. I tried to figure out what the best thing to do with my abilities was, and came up with two possibilities: this," she made a sweeping gesture with her right hand, "or the Psychic Friends Network. Somehow, even after twelve years to reconsider, this still feels more right. We're not in this for fame or glory—we're fully aware that there's no 'psi-signal' on the roof of GCPD headquarters," she added, alluding to the stylized Greek letter, which they all sported on their costumes. "But I can't believe we're meant to just waste these talents at carnivals or making late-night TV appearances." She spread her hands.

"So, go ahead. Tell us how we're flirting with disaster, how tonight should serve as a wake-up call, everything I'm going to tell myself later, and much more harshly. One of my best friends almost died tonight, and I don't know how I would have explained it to her family. But, Batman, she didn't die. And in ten years doing what we do, this is the first time that she's had any injury worse than a torn ligament, or a pulled muscle, or some mild smoke inhalation. Either that's one heck of lucky streak, or she's doing something right."

"And the rest of you?" She was 'only' twenty-two. And she and her team had been operating longer than he had. Although their early years had been spent in far safer surroundings—Toronto had fewer crimes in a year than Gotham had in a month.

Callie didn't answer for a moment. "No serious injuries sustained while in costume." She paused again. "Shortly after you and Natalie met, Hindsight—my older sister, Bronwen—Bran's twin—she was working as a bike courier. She had a delivery to make to one of those shipping offices down by the docks. There was a warehouse fire nearby. A couple of kids were trapped inside. She didn't think twice—just went in and got them out, but the upper story," she closed her eyes, but her voice never wavered."It collapsed and she was trapped under it. Emergency crews got her out, but now she has pins in her hip, and there were other issues, from which, Baruch HaShem, she has recovered. Mostly. We used to take turns working dispatch. Most nights, now, she takes that on. She's adjusted.

She exhaled. "I think the only reason I've told you this is because I'd rather you didn't know it, and I think you'd rather we didn't know about you. Secret for secret. But we'll be out again tomorrow night, and the night after that, and the night after that." She met his eyes squarely. "Just like you would be if it was one of your people on the disabled list. And you don't have our advantages. So if despite that, you're still out there night after night—how can you blame us for having the same dedication?"

"I don't blame you," he said after a moment's hesitation. "But I can't condone what you're doing, either.

Callie shrugged her shoulders. "Fair enough. Not that we really need your approval. It would have been a nice thing to have, though."

"Cal?" Pathwarden interrupted. "I need to make shacharis. If Jill's OK, maybe one of us should stick around, and the rest head back?"

"Sounds like a plan," Callie agreed. "I'll stay." She looked around. "The rest of you, pile in."

Maybelle frowned. "She's my best friend. How come you get to stay?"

"Leader's prerogative. That and I don't have an orchestra rehearsal at nine-thirty sharp. Go home, have breakfast, and keep that appointment. Call me later."

Maybelle nodded her acknowledgement, not looking pleased.

Bruce asked, "What was that word he used? Shakris?"

"Shacharis. Morning Prayers. He needs to get to a synagogue."

"And the rest of you?"

"To make it short and over-simplified, men need a quorum of ten to pray. Women don't. For that reason, most women don't go to services during the week. Personally, I've been praying since I arrived on the scene of the accident."

"How will you get back?"

Cal shrugged again. "Run, maybe. I'm not exactly the Flash, but I was on the track team in high school, and I've done a couple of marathons." She paused for a moment, debating whether to go further. Then she sighed. "In for a penny, in for a pound. I'm also telekinetic. Levitation is tricky when you don't want to be seen, but it's doable. Teleporting is not really advisable. My range is limited, and I really need to see where I'm going."

Bruce frowned. "How many abilities do you have?"

"Metahuman talents, you mean?" She asked coolly, "I have three, but they sound a lot more impressive than they actually are. Strongest is my telekinesis. I can only lift about one-and-a-half times my own weight, but what I call my mental fine-motor skills are great. Theoretically, I could move protons into—or out of—an atom's nucleus. In practice, I need to work proton by proton, and it takes about an hour to do twelve. Next, I'm a low- level telepath. I can communicate with other telepaths across great distances, but otherwise, I need to create a mental link with the person first. If you're worried about my control, there are a few defenses anyone could learn—I'd be happy to teach them to you. Finally, there's my teleportation. Like I said, I need to see where I'm going. I've never been able to shift more than twenty meters at a time. It also makes me feel like I've just come off a very fast roller coaster, so I've learned not to eat first...

"Hey!" Tabitha strode up to her. "Can I have a word? In private?"

Callie glanced at her sister, then at Bruce. "Could you excuse me one moment, please? They need to get underway fairly quickly."

"Yes," agreed Tabitha. "We do."

Palming a listening device, Bruce touched Cal's shoulder, briefly. She stiffened. Tabitha's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. "I have some things I was taking care of when you came. We'll continue this afterwards."

He walked off toward his computers. Once seated at the mainframe, he slipped on a pair of headphones, so that he could listen to the conversation.

"Someone forgot about her ten o'clock anatomy class," Tabitha was saying, "didn't she?"

"No," Cal replied through clenched teeth, "someone forgot that her baby sister knows her schedule. That course is straight memorization. I can miss it."

"And Maybelle can't miss one orchestra session?"

"An orchestra is a team. They depend on her. She can't let them down."

"We're a team. Suppose the material you're missing today covers information you'll need tomorrow night. Or did you enjoy the later part of your watch this night? Or should that be morning?"

"We all have responsibilities," she said wearily. "If anyone's going to shirk them, it should be me."

"Excuse me, O fearless leader," Tabitha retorted, "but I seem to recall someone telling me once that 'if you can't be a good example, you'll just have to be a horrible warning.' Any ideas on who that might have been? And you're right, Cal, we've all got responsibilities. But I can afford to miss civics, French, and geography tomorrow. You have anatomy and microbiology. Trust me, those take priority. Oh, and Cal? Call me your 'baby sister' when you've got a bug on your shoulder one more time, and something unpleasant is going to happen to you. I haven't decided what yet, but you know I've got a good imagination."

"Then, next time," Cal said, "I would suggest you deactivate the listening device before you ask me for a word 'in private.' Wouldn't you agree, Batman?"

There was no response. Cal reached behind her, plucked off the transceiver and held it at arm's length. "Do you need it back?" she asked.

"Gimme that!" Tabitha snapped, snatching it from her. "Maybe I can see how we can improve on our existing stuff."

"Fifth variant." Cal said. "Fine, at puedes rester zdies, but al lui harceles, ponimayesh?"

"Yup, mevina."

"Y Tabitha, toui will tishaeri en la domye tonight—tishaynee. D'accord?"

"Harasho."

The two walked over to where Jill lay on her cot. Bruce joined them. "Fifth variant?"

Callie smiled. "If you know you're going to be overheard, there's no reason to make it easy on the eavesdropper."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I gather you resorted to some sort of code?"

"After a fashion," Callie said. "Kay," she called, "could you toss out some civvies for Jill? We'll be underway as soon as Tabitha grabs what she needs.

"We're multilingual," Cal explained as Tabitha raced off in the direction of the van. "'Fifth variant' means that we alternate between five languages: English, Hebrew, Spanish, French and Russian. 'Sixth variant' throws in ASL. On most people, it works like tinfoil in radar—even if the person knows the languages, the quick switching usually causes an eavesdropper to miss a significant portion of what's being said. Also, there are no hard rules regarding grammar and syntax." She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you have your tricks as well," she said. "Anyway, as you may have gathered, Tabitha's staying, I'm going. It's been good meeting you, but we really are in a bit of a hurry, right now. Would it be OK if I came back later in the afternoon, though?"

Bruce frowned, not entirely comfortable with the idea of these virtual strangers coming in and out of the cave. Under the circumstances, though, it was understandable that she would want to. Maybe they would be able to move Jill to one of the upstairs bedrooms. If it hadn't been for the fact that all of the medical equipment was kept in the cave, he would have had that done initially. Cal smiled self-consciously. "Sorry, I should have realized. We've only just met, and here we are forcing ourselves on you. I'd probably about as enthusiastic about the prospect as you are. Someone will need to relieve Tabitha around four o'clock this afternoon, though. I don't want her going more than 30 hours without sleep." She rolled her eyes. "That sounded a lot better in my head then out loud," she said frankly. "Look, Tabitha knows how to get in touch with me, and I'll give you my pager number, just in case. Let me know by three if you have a better idea." As she spoke, she whipped out a notepad and scribbled a telephone number down.

"Callie," Kay called, "don't make me blow this horn!"

Cal tore off the sheet of paper, hastily, and handed it to Bruce. He accepted it. "This discussion is not over," he told her.

Cal nodded. "No, I don't suppose it would be," she agreed before turning back to the van.

Tabitha phased out, carrying a large knapsack and a smaller satchel. "Later, Gator!" she called.

Kay gunned the motor. A moment later they were gone, leaving her behind.


A/N #1: "Negiya" means touching. Casual physical contact between members of the opposite sex who are not closely related is forbidden according to Orthodox Judaism. As Tabitha mentions, there are certain leniencies in effect when dealing with people unaware of this prohibition (e.g. handshakes).

A/N #2: Following is a translation of the conversation between Callie and Tabitha:

"Fine, you can stay here, but don't pester him. Understand?"

"Yup, I understand."

"And Tabitha, you're staying home tomorrow night—sleeping. Ok?"

"Fine."