Shadowboxing (Part Three)
By TheLostMaximoff
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Thanks for the reviews, guys. I wasn't sure how this was going to be received. Keep them coming.
If there was one thing that Detective Manheim had gotten used to, it was rain. He sighed and watched the downpour from his office window. A stack of papers sat on his desk. It was everything the GCPD had on Robin and on Batgirl since her reappearance after the big earthquake in Gotham. Manheim rubbed his sore eyes and took a sip of coffee. Something just didn't add up. The police had identified the body. Lynx didn't exactly fit the psychological profile of someone who'd be Batgirl. So if Lynx wasn't Batgirl then why did she have on that costume and where the hell was the real Batgirl?
"Somewhere close?" wondered Manheim aloud. There were too many questions and not enough answers. He took a folder from the stack on his desk. This one was the case file on the murder itself. He studied the coroner's report. Time of death: 11:30 p.m. Cause of death: two fatal puncture wounds in chest. There was more medical terminology following that but Manheim didn't exactly comprehend a lot of it. He left understanding that stuff to people with degrees and jobs that paid them to understand that stuff. What he did understand, however, was that something wasn't right. The world just wasn't making sense. He knew he would have to take a look at the suit that they found. Maybe there was something they had missed.
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Robin had a plan. It was a simple plan in theory but it wasn't as simple when one tried to execute it. He had managed to climb through an air duct on the roof of the GCPD storage warehouse. Using a detailed schematic of said ventilation system that he had "borrowed" from city records, Robin was now busy trying to deduce just which room the costume from the frame-up would be held in. This meant he was spending a large amount of time crawling through air ducts and wreaking havoc on his allergies.
"Should be it," whispered Robin to himself as he pulled out a small flashlight and used it to check the schematic in his hand. He was about to silently drop into the room when the door began to open.
"Bet you feel right at home in this weather, huh Manheim?" cracked the officer on duty as Manheim walked into the room. The detective simply rolled his eyes in response to the joke.
"Jenkins, I need to see the stuff for the Batgirl case," informed Manheim. Robin shifted in his position so he could attempt to hear more of what the two men were talking about. He needed to start familiarizing himself with whatever detective the GCPD had working on the case. Jenkins, a rookie who had only been with the department as long as Manheim, nodded and unlocked the metal gate in front of him. Robin tracked the two men with his ears, noting that they were about to be right under him before they finally stopped. He heard some shuffling, probably the detective looking around.
"This is it?" asked Manheim as Jenkins produced a plastic bag with two R-shaped throwing blades inside, "Where's the suit?" Jenkins checked the bin again and looked at Manheim. Robin sensed that this was not going to be a fun day.
"Hell," cursed Manheim. There had to be something important about that suit.
"Somebody must've taken it before it got here," said Jenkins, "Nobody's been in here since we dropped the stuff off." Manheim mumbled something under his breath that Robin couldn't hear. Both men asked themselves the same question. Had someone managed to break in and steal it?
"Lock this building down until we figure out what happened," ordered Manheim. He was formulating theories. The obvious guess was that Robin had taken it. But why just the suit? Why not all the evidence? No, obviousness was what the real thief was counting on. There was a chance it never even made it to this warehouse in the first place.
"Maybe somebody put it on eBay," suggested Jenkins. Manheim rolled his eyes again.
"I have to go talk with the coroner," stated Manheim, "Get Gordon or someone down here and tell them what happened." Robin knew it was time for him to leave. In less than an hour, this building would be crawling with cops and he didn't want to explain what he was doing in the ventilation system when they arrived.
With the costume idea a bust, Robin decided the coroner would have to be next on the list. He figured that someone from the League of Assassins must've slipped into the warehouse and taken it. That was likely since any good detective would realize the missing Kevlar and have doubts. But still, there must've been something about that suit that would've given the League away. Where could it have gone to? Maybe the coroner took it before it could ever get to the warehouse.
'Worth a shot,' he silently decided as he climbed back through the ventilation system and made his way to the roof where he had come in. He needed to be tracking down Cass but he didn't seem to have the nerve for it. No, best to pretend as if this was just another case. Perhaps Cass wasn't the mastermind. Maybe it was all a coincidence that she had been there and that she somehow knew Shrike.
"You're a pretty lousy detective if you'll fall for that, Drake," stated Robin as he made his way onto the roof of the GCPD storage warehouse. He had left the bike in the garage this time. It was just him and his grappling cable for transportation now. He knew he'd head for the coroner's office next. He secured his line and swung through the streets of Gotham. The rain that had plagued the city throughout much of the day was quiet now. Tim wondered if this was the proverbial calm before the storm.
XXXXX
He knew it was coming. Shrike knelt before his employer and awaited the blows he knew would be delivered. He braced himself for the worst. A broken limb? A pound of flesh as payment for his failure?
"You didn't win," said Cassandra Cain as she stared at Shrike, phrasing it more like a statement than a question.
"No, Miss Cain," replied Shrike, "He left when the cops showed up."
"You didn't kill him?" asked Cassandra, "Cripple him?"
"No, Miss Cain," answered Shrike. Cassandra smirked. He had unknowingly done precisely what was required of him. Cassandra didn't want Tim damaged. That wouldn't do at all.
"Good," said Cassandra simply, "Leave." Shrike didn't look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth and rose, bowing to Cassandra and then departing.
"Mistress." Cassandra looked up to see a monk bow and enter the room. He was part of the Thuggee Cult. They worshipped Shiva as a goddess. Now that Cassandra had defeated Shiva twice and proved to them that she was Shiva's daughter, they worshipped her. She still wasn't comfortable with being a goddess but she figured it ran in the blood so she'd get used to it.
"Everything is ready," assured the man as he held up a canister with a sickly-green liquid inside, "This is it." Cassandra studied the canister. Ra's al Ghul once had a plan, a plan that involved cleansing the world and leaving alive only those he saw fit. As part of that plan, he created a network of satellites that still encircled the globe to this day. When the right time came and Ra's had wiped the Earth clean of all who were unworthy, the satellites were designed to release a chemical concoction into Earth's atmosphere. The air itself would be filled with the same life-sustaining chemicals used in Lazarus Pits, turning the whole planet into a veritable Eden. But Ra's also had to do one other thing first. He had to distill the chemicals, filtering out those that caused the temporary insanity that plagued those who used the pits. Unfortunately, the time for the satellites to do their job never occurred and, due to bouts of insanity from the Pits, Ra's was never able to complete the distilment process. Nyssa would continue it when she took her father's place, hoping that she could make the Lazarus Pits safer and thereby make herself stronger than her father. But Nyssa was dead now too and Cassandra Cain had taken over this research since she became leader only with a slight change. She would distill the chemicals but she was far more interested in the other end of the spectrum. The liquid inside the canister was pure, distilled madness, the end result of all that long work. It could turn the sanest person alive into a lunatic, a killer. If she were someone with grand ambitions, she could hold the entire world hostage. Cassandra had no such ambitions. She simply wanted everyone else to become what she had become: a killer with a killer's blood and a killer's soul.
"Make sure everything works," ordered Cassandra, "I must complete the final task." She wanted Tim to be here when the time came. She would make him an offer like in that gangster movie he liked. She would make him an offer that he couldn't refuse. It was a chance to strike back at the world for all it had done to her and to him. And why wouldn't he want that? Why wouldn't he want the chance to hurt the world that took away his parents, his girlfriend, everything he ever loved?
"We will kill everything," said Cassandra to herself, "Everything will die. Everything." Everyone she loved died in the end. Cassandra Cain was going to see that proclamation through to the bitter end.
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The coroner's office was an incredibly dreary place and this was coming from someone who spent his time in caves of one sort or another. Robin figured it was the weather just getting on his nerves. A stormy, overcast day wasn't exactly a good day for a visit to the coroner. He was surprised it hadn't started raining again. That would complete the mood.
He couldn't really think of anything original for a plan to get into the coroner's office so Tim used the tried and true ventilation system method that had worked for him at the police warehouse.
"Story of my life," muttered Robin as he fought the maddening compulsion to sneeze, "Shuffling in shadows and crawling through vent systems." He muttered some other unintelligible grumblings as he looked through a vent and found out he was in the right room. He realized that he didn't exactly have an original method for this either. Perhaps it was best to favor reliability over originality.
Robin dropped into the room from the vent, scaring the coroner and almost guaranteeing the man a stay in that very same building. In two seconds, he had the man pinned against a wall and a hand over his mouth to silence him before he called for help.
"The body that came in here from the Batgirl case," began Robin in a low and menacing voice, "It had a costume on. Where's the suit?" He removed his hand so the man could speak.
"The police took it," pleaded the coroner. Robin wished Cass was here with him. She was a human lie-detector. She could produce results far quicker and far more accurately than any hunch or polygraph test. In that respect, she and Tim were exactly alike. Both of them were always hunting for the truth. He tried not to think about Cass anymore.
"The police never got it," replied Robin as his grip on the man's lab coat tightened, "You're lying." It was then that he felt something cold and metallic press against his temple.
"I didn't know birds were famous for their hearing," said Detective Manheim as he pressed his gun to Robin's head, "Where've you been getting that info, kid?" A dead silence filled the room, appropriate considering where they were. Robin recognized the man as the detective who had come into the evidence room earlier that day.
"Who sent you?" asked Robin, pretending to be ignorant of the man's identity and to see if he was actually working for the cops or if the League had paid him off. He asked Manheim the question but his eyes never left the coroner.
"Gotham's finest," assured Manheim, "I was wondering when I would get the chance to meet you. I hope you won't mind if I decide not to ask for your autograph."
"If you could make him unhand me, Officer, I'd greatly appreciate it," assured the coroner. Robin could take the detective down any number of ways but it was going to be a cold day in Hell before he let himself lose the coroner.
"You heard the man," said Manheim, "but stick around, Doc. I'm very interested to know about that costume too." Robin let the coroner go and eased back. In reciprocation, Manheim pulled back his gun.
"The girl was in a costume when they brought the body in," assured the coroner, "I took it off her when they brought her here and I gave it to the police. That's the last I saw of it."
"We have reason to believe it never even made it into the evidence locker," assured Manheim as he looked to Robin, "You've got all the Batman tricks, kid. Is he telling the truth?"
"Pretty sure," admitted Robin with a sigh. His lead was a bust and he was at square one with Cass out on the loose. This case was getting worse by the minute.
"We'll need an official statement," said Manheim as he turned to leave and motioned for Robin to join him.
"You're not going to arrest this maniac?" asked the coroner in disbelief.
"He just did my job for me," reminded Manheim, "I don't mind it when a prime suspect for a murder case cooperates by questioning the prime suspect in an obstruction case." Neither detective waited for more from the coroner as they stepped into the hallway.
"I'm Detective Adrian Manheim," said Manheim, "I'm working on the Batgirl case." Tim hated that phrasing. The cops didn't know the real "Batgirl case". They had no clue what kind of person Cass had been nor did they have a clue what she was like now. The person back there on a slab wasn't even close to being Batgirl.
"That wasn't Batgirl," assured Robin, "I know."
"Figures that the Bat's boy is a junior detective," replied Manheim, "So what's your end of the case turning up?"
"Trouble," replied Robin simply.
"The big ones always start out small," assured Manheim, "I'll check out the coroner and some of the cops that were on duty that night. You handle what you need to."
"Wait, you really think I'm innocent?" asked Robin in surprise. Relations with the police had been in the toilet for a while now and a year in Budapest wasn't exactly going to make everything magically disappear.
"Gordon vouches for you guys," stated Manheim, "Plus I'm a damn good detective if I can blow my own horn for a second. It doesn't take a genius to figure out there's more going on here than what it says in the case reports."
"There is," confirmed Robin, "Detective, have you ever had to bring in someone close to you?" He was still uneasy about the prospect of confronting Cass. He wasn't sure where the line was with her anymore.
"Do your job," replied Manheim simply, "Sometimes it's the only thing you can do. I'm gonna warn you, bird man. I will do my job even if you don't."
"I'll do it," assured Robin coldly, "Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it." He turned to head for the stairs. There was no way he was going back through those vents. He figured he could find a bathroom and change clothes if he needed to avoid detection.
"Where's the real Batgirl?" asked Manheim. Tim didn't say anything. For all intents and purposes, the "real" Batgirl might as well be as dead as the imposter. Robin sighed heavily as he trudged up the stairs.
"They're going to have my badge for this," muttered Manheim as he turned and walked back to his car. The coroner was still a suspect. Somewhere there was a Batgirl costume floating around and Manheim wanted it. He wasn't going to stop until he found it.
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The costume lead was a bust. This meant that the only available option was to track Cass down and confront her. Tim didn't exactly enjoy that idea. What would Cass be planning? It wasn't just a simple frame job done out of anger. If Cass was angry with him, he'd be dead by now. There was something else going on in her brain, something bigger.
"What would it be?" wondered Robin aloud as he stood on the roof of the coroner's office and thought. Truthfully, he didn't know what to think anymore. If you had asked him a week ago, he would've told you who Cassandra Cain was. Now he wasn't even completely sure he had known her at all.
"But I know the League of Assassins," said Robin to himself, "and she has to be somewhere in town." It was settled. He would check the computer and see if the League owned any property in the city and then search them all one by one. There was a crack of thunder in the distance. Another round of rain was coming up. Robin knew he should get indoors. A jag of lightning split the sky and he saw something that chilled his bones. Batgirl was skulking on a rooftop.
Robin's grappling line was out in seconds as he swung towards the girl. He knew it was Cass this time. He could tell by the way she moved.
"Take that mask off," ordered Robin as he landed in front of her, "and look me in the eye." The figure peeled back the mask and there was no mistake. It was Cassandra Cain.
"I kept just this one," explained Cassandra, "For memories."
"Stop it," said Robin coldly, "Whatever this big plan is, stop it now. You need help, Cass."
"I did," agreed Cassandra, "but everyone had left. Don't call me that name anymore, Tim. She's dead now." Robin stared the girl in the eyes as another crack of thunder punctuated her sentence.
"You're scared of me," stated Cassandra, "You always were. Everyone always was. I tried, Tim. I failed."
"So now you decide to throw everything away?" asked Robin, "You decide to mock us?"
"I am what my parents made me," replied Cassandra, "I have chosen to honor that." And therein was another ugly truth she had learned. Family was important and real family trumped fake family, even fake family that had acted more real than real family.
"While spitting in our faces," snapped Robin as he drew his bo, "I'm taking you in, Cass. It can happen the easy way or the hard way but it'll happen in the end."
"Maybe," relented Cassandra as she pulled the cowl back over her face. Robin attacked quickly, smacking her in the side of the head before she could get her guard up. Batgirl backed away and blocked another shot to her head. He was trying to end this quickly. She would as well. Robin went low and struck her in the leg with his bo. He then flicked it upward, trying to catch her under the jaw with it. Batgirl grabbed the metal rod and moved it aside to give Robin a right cross and then a roundhouse kick. Robin blocked the kick with his bo, quickly angling it to jab her in the throat. Batgirl backed away and coughed as the pole hit the soft spot where her throat connected with her chest. That stupid stick was always in the way. She'd have to make him lose it before she could do any real damage.
"It doesn't have to be this way," assured Robin, "Just give yourself up." Batgirl could see that he was hurting inside. Did he . . .? Could he . . .? No. She shoved the thought from her mind and chopped at his bad knee, the one she had injured the previous night. The blow connected and Robin felt the knee buckle involuntarily. Batgirl gave it another hard kick before Robin went down in pain. He quickly rolled onto his back and kicked Batgirl in the gut with his good leg. He had to get back up. He flipped back to his feet and then almost went down again thanks to his knee. As he worried about that, Robin felt Batgirl's hands suddenly clamp around his throat like a vice.
"Go down," ordered Cassandra venomously as she locked Tim in a chokehold. Robin attempted to fight out of the hold but Batgirl was like a boa constrictor squeezing the air out of its prey. Tim felt his limbs begin to sway lifelessly like a rag doll's as his vision began to grow dark. The rain was falling now, hard and cold. He tried to get the cold to bring him back to reality but he wasn't getting enough air.
"Please," whispered Cassandra, "Go down." Robin felt himself slip into unconsciousness as he granted her request. For a few seconds, Cassandra didn't move. She just let the rain wash away the pain, dulling and numbing her emotions until she felt calm enough to act. That . . . that had been very hard for her to do.
"Good," whispered Cassandra as she checked his pulse. She was afraid she was going to have to choke the life right out of him to get him to stop fighting. She needed him to see. When he found out what she was planning, he would see everything clearly. He . . . he had to see that she was doing this for the best. He had to.
"Let's get out of the rain," said Cassandra as she put Tim's body over her shoulder and began making her way back to the League's hideout in Gotham. He would see. She was sure of it.