Author's note: I debated briefly over whether or not to post (or even write) this chapter, as it's a mostly action-oriented piece. Action scenes, in my opinion, aren't very well-suited to fanfiction, which seems more about exploring ideas and thoughts that don't get fleshed out in official media. And after all, this is supposed a Bruce + Di romance. But in the end, Bruce is Batman and Batman has to kick ass.

Maybe it's just because I'm not very good at writing action (you be the judge). As always, thanks for the feedback so far, and enjoy.

Chapter 3

He slid into the Batmobile. In moments the systems were online and humming and the vehicle peeled onto the mountain roads. He tapped a sequence of buttons.

"Oracle," came the acknowledgement.

"I'm in Gotham. Report."

"One moment. Okay, at last count Nightwing saw approximately twenty to twenty five armed men around the ship and warehouse. Ra's is there, Talia is unconfirmed. Ubu," Ra's bodyguard, "was also spotted. There was also one more, unknown figure, not one of the armed thugs. Batgirl's ETA is three minutes; Robin's ETA is under five. "

"Open a channel with Nightwing."

"On it." There was a harsh beep, and a pause. "One sec." Another beep. "Nightwing?" Silence. "Shit."

"What?" he demanded.

"He's not responding." Oracle's voice was disguised by a transmitter but her distress was obvious.

A black-gloved hand tightened on the steering wheel. "When was his last transmission?"

"Checking—seven minutes, fifteen seconds ago."

His mind began racing through possible contingencies. "Tell Batgirl and Robin to stay two hundred yards from the warehouse. Have them check in periodically. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Got it."

The sleek vehicle roared through the Gotham night.

***

Richard Grayson, aka. Nightwing, groaned and tried to blink. His vision was still blurred. God that hurts like a mother

"He's awake," a voice hissed.

What the hell had happened? He remembered spying on Ra's operation through hi-powered binoculars from several buildings down, and then the world had suddenly gone black. He tried moving his arms; a chain rattled. Fuck. Stupid rookie mistake, not watching his back while on reconnaissance. Bruce would chew him out for this.

"Wake up!" He recognized the harsh voice as Ubu, Ra's personal bodyguard. A meaty hand slapped his face. He cracked his eyes open.

Two men stood before him. Ubu was a massively built, bald headed man, with a scimitar strapped to his side and a submachine gun looped around his arm. He looked every bit the fearsome warrior and bodyguard. But the other one…

The other one was clad in black from head to toe, his stance exuding a quiet but deadly calm. Nightwing knew at once that the slender man was the more dangerous of the two. Probably the one who had ambushed him; he had heard absolutely no noise, and there was no way Ubu or any of Ra's other hired hands could have surprised him so badly.

I bet Cass would fuck you up, he thought bitterly at the ninja. Or let me out of this, I'll do it myself.

"He awakens?" The accented voice belonged unmistakably to Ra's al Ghul. The wizened but ageless man was making his way toward them. The Demon's Head, as he was known, claimed to have been alive for over six hundred years, but he looked to be a darkened, fit man in his forties or fifties. His eyes were black slashes that missed little. "You should not interfere in your elder's business, child."

"Go to hell," Nightwing spat. Not the most original remark, but the best he could do while trying to clear the cobwebs in his brain. He received another blow from Ubu for his trouble.

"How dare you speak like that to the Master!"

Ra's gave a cruel twist of his lips that might have been a smile. "I plan to avoid that for quite some time, boy."

***

Alfred allowed himself a long-suffering sigh as he flicked a feather duster over one of the many server bays in the Batcave. He had not heard the actual conversation behind him in the limousine, but by observing the lady's change in expression between the time they were heading to the ball and while they were on the way back, he could well imagine what she had been thinking.

Poor lass, he thought. He rubbed away a particularly irritating speck of dust.

The transporter began beeping and he hurried over to the monitor, even though he was fairly certain who the mystery guest would be. A glance at the screen confirmed his suspicions.

He was hard at work battling an oil streak on one of the tables when Diana strode out of the portal, dressed in her black combat fatigues.

Her posture was defiant, as if prepared for argument or battle, but it deflated upon seeing him. "Alfred," she began uncertainly.

He sketched a polite bow. "Madam. I'm afraid Master Bruce is away at the moment."

She sighed. "And I don't suppose you'll tell me where he is? Or help me find him?"

He went back to his scraping. "Miss Diana, I am under direct orders from my employer not to speak with you nor give you any assistance in following him."

She crossed her arms. "So that means you will?"

His lips quirked. She had pluck, this one, to equal Master Bruce. "He left about ten minutes ago, madam. As it so happens, a map to the docks is on the computer. I do believe I was dusting upstairs and never heard you arrive."

Basking in the glow of her smile, he hoped his charge would not find a way to ruin this one, too. "Thank you, Alfred." She turned and prepared to leap into the air.

"If I may make a suggestion, madam?" he ventured.

She paused, feet already hovering off the ground. "Please do."

"Master Bruce is not accustomed to…outside assistance in his line of work. Don't let him use that as an excuse to push you away."

She nodded. "I understand, Alfred. Thank you."

"Godspeed, Miss Diana. Or rather, Hermes, is it not?"

She smiled, gave him a little wave, and zoomed out.

***

He slammed on the brakes and was out of the Batmobile almost before it stopped, all the while tapping the button sequence on his belt's keypad to secure the vehicle. A flip of his arm brought the grappling hook to bear; he lifted it and fired, allowing the pulley mechanism to bring him to the rooftop.

A young girl, dressed in a sleeker version of his suit with the mouth covered, nodded at his arrival. She gestured to another rooftop and within seconds a caped teenage male landed next to him.

"What's the situation?" he asked Robin.

"Not great," the boy whispered. "They got Nightwing chained down in one of the buildings, guarded by some ninja guy and two other goons. There's about ten of them milling around the building, maybe ten-fifteen more on the boat."

"And Ra's?"

"He was out here for a while but went back onto the ship."

Batman nodded. "All right. Here's what we do…"

***

Barbara pressed the comm button. "Oracle."

"Oracle, this is Wonder Woman."

Barbara nodded. Right voice on the line this time, at least. "What do you need?"

"I'm in Gotham," the voice was a bit uncertain, but strengthened, "on my way to help Batman."

Barbara raised an eyebrow at that. "Does he know—"

"No."

"…okay."

"I'm heading to the docks now. Is there anything I should know before I get there?"

Barbara hesitated, imagining the glare and the lecture she would get from Bruce the next day. Then she shrugged. "Yes," she said, and began explaining the situation to the other woman.

***

The three members of the Batclan crouched on the roof, making their final preparations.

"When the charges go, Batgirl takes the ninja. Robin, you free Nightwing. The three of you clear the warehouse. I'll hit the ship."

His two protégés nodded and the group split up, with Robin and Batgirl making their way directly overhead the warehouse, while he prepared his assault to board Ra's vessel. The grapple was in his hand.

A beep in his headset gave him pause. "Yes?"

"This is Oracle. Wonder Woman is inbound to your location, ETA one minute forty-five seconds."

He narrowed his eyes, resisted the urge to growl at her. Concentrate on the task at hand first. Damn Alfred, sometimes. "We'll talk about this later, Oracle. Out." He switched channels. "Robin?"

"We're ready."

"Go." He pulled out the remote detonator and pressed down.

They had planted tiny C-4 charges along the abandoned building next to the warehouse. The explosion rocked the harbor and sent a fireball billowing into the night. Ra's men yelled and scampered about, seizing their weapons and shouting orders.

The three avenging angels swooped down into the midst of the pandemonium.

***

From miles away, Diana saw the ball of fire mushroom into the sky. She narrowed her eyes and prayed to Hermes for more speed as she cut through the night, a blackened arrow speeding to its target.

***

The explosion caught the sentries on the ship off guard. Staring and pointing at the burning building, they didn't notice the black shadow looming larger and larger behind them.

The heel of a boot struck each of them solidly in the back. They tumbled over the ship's railing, plunging into the icy waters of the river below.

The impact broke the momentum of his swing; he released the line and twisted his body to land noiselessly on a lower ledge. A startled goon gaped at him, submachine gun in hand but not in firing position. First and only mistake. His fist lashed out and the guard crumpled against the cabin wall.

The Batman stalked forward.

***

The ninja, a mercenary-for-hire who hailed from a secretive clan located in a remote province of northern China, had accepted this job for the chance to test his skills against the infamous Dark Knight of Gotham. He was in a foul mood; his time and skills were being wasted as a glorified security guard for the old man's enterprise.

The explosion sent him leaping skyward to intercept any incoming threats. He crouched on the roof and glanced around, senses alert.

A barely perceptible flutter, inaudible to most ears, made him look up, and he fell into a defensive stance as Batgirl landed smoothly in front of him. He studied his opponent from behind darkened lenses. It was a woman—no, he realized, taking in the slim figure and tiny breasts, a girl.

"They send a girl to fight me?" he demanded in his native dialect, lowering his hands. A female warrior was acceptable; he knew the legends of Lady Shiva. But a girl

The girl launched herself forward. In the instant it took to re-align his defenses, her hand jabbed him three times in the chest, shoulder, and throat, making him gag, while a small boot swept his feet out from under him. Her other palm thudded into his chest. He went flying.

The girl bat was on top of him before he could get up. A foot stomped on his solar plexus, knocking his wind out and keeping him down; a set of fingers hit a pressure point in his shoulder that numbed his right arm. He lashed out with the left but she deflected it cleanly, then grabbed, twisted, and yanked the arm out of its socket. He gave a half-groan, half-scream.

What kind of demon was this? That was his last thought before her hand chopped down on his throat and cut off the flow of oxygen to his body long enough to render him unconscious.

The martial arts phenom known as Batgirl, aka. Cassandra Cain, looked up from the man she had taken six seconds to decimate. The man with long hair and boy with bright clothes were free and fighting many men with guns. She glided to the edge of the roof and somersaulted off, breaking her fall with the body of an unfortunate thug.

The group that had been firing at Nightwing and Robin stopped to gawk at the intruder in their midst. Her fists and feet flew out. In seconds, half of them were on the floor and the rest were training their guns on her. There were several thwacks and thuds and the remaining goons collapsed.

The two Robins, one old and one new, stood over the fallen bodies. She waved at the long haired one.

"You get the ninja guy, Batgirl?" Robin asked.

She nodded, pointed back at the roof.

"'Atta girl," Nightwing said, chuckling. "How long?"

She flicked out six fingers, and returned his grin with one of her own.

***

He needed only a punch and a boot to the face to lay out another set of thugs. That made ten. One minute had passed. Guesstimate around five more on the ship, plus Ra's, Ubu, and maybe Talia.

He heard a noise in the next room and flattened himself against the wall. To a casual observer he simply melted into the shadows.

Three—no, four men inside, arguing in a foreign language. He slipped to the doorway, so light on his feet he was almost floating. The door was cracked open; he glanced inside, memorized each person's position, and pulled back, all in the blink of an eye.

He counted to three, then lunged and kicked the door off its hinges. It flew into the room with him right behind it. His arm pumped once, twice, and the two thugs facing him suddenly found batarangs stuck in the barrels of their guns. The other two had had their backs to the door, but quickly whirled to face him. Their guns opened fire. Four armed men against a Bat.

They never had a chance.

As the last man collapsed on the ship floor, some instinct warned him of danger. He pivoted in time to see a reinforced steel plate seal off the doorway he had just entered.

He immediately charged the other exit across the room, but before he had taken more than two steps, another steel plate slammed into place, cutting off that route too.

He allowed himself a silent curse.

"Welcome, Detective," Ra's voice boomed from behind him.

He whirled around. The voice came from a speaker/monitor tucked in a corner of the ceiling. A batarang shot out and buried itself into the monitor. The ruined black box sizzled and spat blue sparks.

There were no other exits or windows in the room.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he berated himself. He tested the steel plate with a batarang. It bounced off. Another one clanged against the ship wall—also steel—and fell harmlessly to the ground.

One more thing left to try. He picked up the fallen projectile and hurled it into the ceiling with all the force he could muster. It stuck—barely, but enough. He opened a different compartment in his belt, where another item in his bag of tricks was carefully stored.

A tiny bat followed its brethren into the roof. This one was beeping.

He lifted his cape to shield his face from the exploding debris. When the dust cleared, he glanced up at the man-sized hole the explosive had opened and gave a satisfied nod. The grapple jumped into his hand and he fired. It hit the roof of the room above and began lifting him toward the ceiling.

He shifted, twisted, and swung his body through the hole like an acrobat, clambering out of the trapped room to see—

--Ubu with a submachine gun trained on him. His eyes widened behind the dark cowl.

He didn't have time to move away, but managed to throw his cape in front of him. It wasn't completely bulletproof—especially at this range—but could dull the impact. The spray of bullets came from less than five feet away.

Six struck his chest, three his stomach. The Kevlar under his suit took the brunt of the blow but it was like being kicked by a horse.

Three bullets missed.

Two more ripped through the cape and hit his un-armored left shoulder. It felt like he had been speared with a white-hot branding iron. He gasped and stumbled back.

Ubu bellowed in victory and kicked him in the chest, knocking him back down to the room below.

He landed with a painful crash and fought the blackness threatening to overwhelm his vision. His back and shoulder were on fire. Ubu followed him through the hole and hit the floor with a heavy thud. The bodyguard was smiling.

A loud bang dented the side wall of the ship. Both of them jerked their heads toward the sound. Another bang. The indentation of a fist appeared on the steel. Ubu's jaw dropped; the bodyguard shifted his gun and pointed it uncertainly at the dent.

A third crash and the steel wall split. A hand reached in, began to peel the opening apart like an orange. Batman took advantage of the distraction to kick the larger man's feet out from under him. He snapped his other leg up and nailed Ubu in the back of the head as he fell. The bodyguard collapsed into a motionless heap.

His shoulder was on fire, his left arm useless, but he staggered up to face the newcomer. A portion of the steel wall was torn off and a black figure flew into the room.

"Batman!" a female voice cried.

Diana?

He took a step toward her and stumbled. She was at his side in an instant, holding him up. A detached part of his brain noted that she still smelled faintly of the perfume she had been wearing earlier.

"I'm fine," he grated. "Get Ra's. More important." He tried to push her away.

She wouldn't let go. "We got him," she said. "Nightwing's handling it. They were—" her eyes widened as she noticed the blood staining his shoulder. "You've been shot!"

"I'm fine," he bit off the words. "Go."

He was still dazed and couldn't react fast enough to stop her. In an easy motion she scooped him into her arms and flew them out of the hole she had just created.

He was sweating heavily and the cold air on his face was a relief. She brought them to the upper deck of the ship. He could see a swarm of police lights on the harbor and beyond.

"I've got him," she said softly, and he realized she was talking into a comm-link. "He's been shot. In the shoulder. Where should I…okay." She was about to take off, still cradling him in her arms, when he stopped her.

"Princess." She paused, looked at him worriedly. His jaw was clenched. "I'm going to forgive you for coming here because you saved my life. But if you carry me back like an invalid I'll hold it against you forever."

She laughed in relief. "Men." She gently set him on his feet and wrapped her arm around his waist. Her limbs were slender but incredibly strong. "Better?"

He nodded, trying to muster as much dignity as possible. They floated off the ship and into the night.