Chapter 3
Victory and Loss
From her perch atop a nearby office building, Cobra watched the old warehouse through a pair of nightvision binoculars. The warehouse was dark except for a thin slice of light coming from one of the windows on the top floor, but the binoculars showed her two guards stationed near the small entrance on this side, armed with what looked like rifles. The binoculars were part of the equipment that the Batman had given her, including a small wireless headset that fit easily under her hood and a light climbing rope. He would have given her more but she knew that this was how she worked best. Her job right now was to watch the entrance, making sure that no one got past without her noticing. The Batman was watching the other side of the building, where he could keep an eye on the people within through an open window. The idea was that they would be able to see the killer if he came to finish his job tonight and could trap him within the building, using the final Miazza boss as bait. She was supposed to check in with him in a few minutes but so far everything had been quiet. They had alerted the police and several SWAT teams wait nearby for the signal to come in and round up any thugs and take the killer into custody. Now it was just a waiting game. She concentrated on her job, though. She was a professional. She knew that she would be distracted if she thought about him. But she couldn't help the warm feeling that came over her every time she even thought his name. After tonight hey could go home. Her mission would be finished and they could love each other without holding back and keeping secrets. It still seemed hard to believe. It was as if they had found the other half of themselves. The other side to their coin. If they only made it past tonight.
A voice crackled over the radio.
"Bat to Cobra. Come in. Over."
"Cobra here."
"How does it look over there?"
She picked up the binoculars again, sweeping the over the ground around the warehouse.
"All quiet here. Looks like…"
She stopped and passed the binoculars over the entrance again. Both guards were now lying prone on the ground. She could tell even from where she was that both of their necks had been broken.
"Hang on, both guards are dead! The killer is inside. Repeat, the killer is inside!"
His voice was calm on the other side.
"See if you can follow him. I'm going in the window. We'll catch him somewhere in the middle. Bat out."
Dropping the binoculars, she uncoiled the rope at her waist and swung swiftly down to the ground. Making sure the coast was clear, she sprinted across the empty street and slipped through the door past the dead guards. It was dark
inside as she made her way quietly down a small hallway and out into the maze of crates that filled the warehouse. Suddenly, the overhead lights came on and she was forced to shield her eyes until they adjusted. She was only still for a few seconds but in that time a group of thugs came jogging around the corner, talking into a radio. They hesitated when they saw her but the thug in the lead recovered quickly.
"Get her!" he yelled, pulling an automatic from the back of his belt.
She jumped, pulling herself over the edge of the crate next to her just as two bullets thunked into its sides. Taking a step back, she then jumped forward, flipping over the heads of the gang and landing on the shoulders of the leader, knocking him to the ground. Then she was up and moving again, kicking the legs out from beneath the closest thug and smashing her fist into his jaw as he too went down. Blocking a punch from another thug, she sent a foot into his gut, ducking just in time to avoid a bat that yet another had swung at her head. She dropped him with a roundhouse kick to the head and turned just as several bullets ricocheted off the floor near her feet as the last two thugs backed off. Then another group came running around the corner and she flipped up onto the crates again as more bullets whizzed past her head. They were yelling and talking into radios as some climbed onto the crates behind her. She took off running, jumping gaps and following the maze of crate tops. More bullets whizzed past and she dropped down onto the floor between the crates, sprinting off in another direction. Now the whole warehouse was alight and there were shouting thugs all over the place. As she ran, she looked up at the office rooms on the catwalks above. One was lit and she could see the shadows of people fighting through the window. She turned a corner, running in the direction of the elevator that ran up to the catwalks. Now it sounded like the whole gang was after her as she reached the elevator platform. Several more bullets pinged off the wall in front of her as she vaulted over the railing to the elevator control box. Smashing open the cover, she reached in and ripped out a handful of wiring. Then she started climbing, using the rope to reach the first of the supports for the elevator shaft. Having the elevator out would force the thugs to go to the opposite end of the warehouse in order to climb the stairs and hopefully would buy her time. More gunshots echoed nearby and several bullets buried themselves in the metal strut close to her head. But then she was up and over the catwalk railing and running towards the lighted office. Then she stopped. A dark figure was creeping slowly towards the door of the office. It was the killer. Slowly, she followed. Trying to be as silent as possible. But he had heard her and, spinning around, he stuck a small tube in his mouth. Then something stung the side of her neck and reaching up, she pulled a small, feathered dart from where it was buried in the fabric of her costume. The man smiled triumphantly as she walked slowly towards him. He was dressed all in black, like she was, but he wore no mask. Strange tattoos were printed across his face, making him look like a goblin or something out of a story. She stopped a few feet away and stared straight at him. Then he spoke.
"And you must be the Cobra."
She nodded. He grinned.
"I really must say how convenient it was of you to appear in Gotham like you did.'
"Why."
"I thought that would have been obvious."
She just stared at him.
He sighed and continued. "Well, you did make for a very handy cover. Imagine how coincidental. Someone with a name and style so perfectly suited to my work who just happened to show up at precisely the right time.'
"Who are you?"
He bowed. "Sanji Crow, professional assassin by trade."
She was angry but she kept it slow, knowing that he was getting careless.
"Why are you killing the Miazza?"
"Just a job. Man has to make a living you know."
"How?"
"Ah, wouldn't you like to know. Well, for you I shall make an exception. With these little darts. So small but so very poisonous. Snake venom, which, by the way, is currently is running through your veins."
She didn't move. She wanted very much to make him hurt. To make him feel for what he had stolen from her. But still she waited.
"Any minute now," he continued. "You should feel your heart speeding up. Feel the air being cut off."
He reached out and touched her face.
"Pity."
The moment had come. Lightning fast, her hand shot out and caught his, forcing it away from her. He swung at her and she flipped him over, using his arm as a pivotal point. But he knew martial arts as well, and pulled her over with him. They rolled apart and jumped to their feet. He looked shocked.
"I don't understand. What…"
She came at him again. Punching and kicking in combinations so fast that he could barely keep up. Then he recovered and she was forced back a few steps as he replied in kind. Then a bullet pinged off the catwalk nearby, making her hesitate. The thugs had reached the stairs and were running along the catwalks towards them. In her moment of distraction, Crow got through, landing a strike on her face that knocked her down. She rolled, just in time to avoid the knee that came down where her head had been. She jumped to her feet, spitting blood from a cut lip. But now she had the advantage; he was on the floor and she was standing. She kicked out, knocking him over but he rolled to his feet again. But this time, when he punched, she just simply caught it. Then, grabbing his elbow, she flipped him again. This time she felt the bone snap as he went over and when he landed, he did not get up.
"What…" he gasped. "You were supposed to… the poison. It…"
She reached up and pulled off her mask. And his eyes widened in understanding when he saw her eyes clearly for the first time.
"So that's…"
A hail of bullets pinged around them, drowning out what he was saying. She ducked, curling up in the shelter of that corner of the office. She looked back at Crow. He was still. His eyes were open but no breath moved in his chest. A small trickle of blood trailed slowly from the corner of his mouth. She backed away, getting to her feet and sprinting the rest of the way to the office and jerking the door open. The Batman was inside, dealing with a group of about ten thugs. At lest twenty more lay on the floor around him but he was still moving as if he had just started. In the corner was another man, too well dressed to be a thug. He had to have been the last boss and he was busy reloading a small pistol. But she didn't have time to worry at him. Grabbing a gun that had been kicked near the door, she ran back out side. The thugs were close and the catwalks creaked as they ran in a group towards her. Ducking around the corner, she took aim at the bolt holding the struts that supported the catwalk. She fired once and it shattered, that catwalk sagging to one side as the strut swung free. Then she took aim and the second and fired, the catwalk swaying even more as another strut gave way. Then there was only one left. She took aim and fired. The bullet ricocheted off but the bolt remained intact. The catwalks were swaying violently now as the crowd drew closer. She took aim again, taking her time and trying not to rush. Then she fired again. The bolt shattered, but the strut remained where it was. She fired again, not bothering to aim but the hammer of the gun clicked on an empty chamber. Then the first of the thugs came around the corner and she backed away as they took aim. But then, with a violent screech of metal, the last strut tore free, swinging the portion of the catwalks, which held the gang, down, dumping most of the thugs on the ground. Several guns went off and she felt a sharp pain in her arm. She looked over to see a wide cut where a bullet had plowed a path through the outside of her arm. But other than that she was fine and she had been able to buy them more time.
She ran back to the office, clamping a hand on the cut to help slow the bleeding. Inside it was much the same as she had left it. There were only five thugs left, but the Batman seemed to be moving slower. Then she saw the blood. There was a long rip in the material over his leg and the surrounding material was stained dark. But none of the thugs had any weapons that would have caused that kind of injury. Then she saw the boss. He had reloaded his pistol and was carefully taking aim at the Batman. Her legs seemed to move of their own accord. Vaulting over the prone thugs all over the floor, she landed directly in front of the boss. He hesitated for a second when she appeared, but before she could do anything, he moved the gun towards her and pulled the trigger. She paused. Her mind had registered the shot, had heard it, and she saw her body jerk and the bullet hit. But she couldn't feel a thing. He pulled the trigger again. She heard the shot again and felt her body jerk in response. But somehow it didn't matter.
Then she moved, her left hand snapping up under the barrel of the gun as her right hand came down on his wrist. She heard the crack as his wrist broke and caught the gun as it flew up into the air. Then she pointed it at his head. And she hesitated again. This time for a different reason. The first time had been because something very important had happened. She had recognized him. Kneeling on the floor in front of her, his eyes on the gun, was the man whose face she remembered very well. He had been there that day. That hot summer day when she had sat on her porch and watched as he had pulled out his gun and shot her father. Twice, right in the stomach. He was older than she remembered. But then, that had been twenty years ago. Now she hesitated for another reason. She was trying to resist the lure of the power she now held. The power over his life. Over whether he died right there, right then. She toyed with the idea of shooting him twice, right in the stomach. Of watching him take forever to die. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
Disarming the last thug with a punch in the gut and laying him out cold with another to the jaw, the Batman relaxed his fighting stance. He was tired, there had been too many of them for him to avoid every blow. And once the boss had gotten in that shot to the leg, his mobility had been seriously reduced. He blocked out the pain, taking stock of the room around him.
And then he saw her. Her arm was trembling, the fingers wrapped tight around the trigger of the gun she held. He could see the fear on the face of the man kneeling in front of her. And he knew what was happening. He had been there.
"Aasia," he said softly. The world was quiet around them. All that existed was the two of them, the gun, and the choice.
"Aasia, put down the gun."
He could see her shift her grip ever so slightly. But she said nothing and didn't move. He kept talking, trying to reach through to her.
"Let him go. We caught him. It's over. Let him go and lets go home."
Her hand shook even more and he could tell that she was fighting an inner battle over this.
"Please. Let him go."
Her hand jerked and the shot rang out. His eyes followed the path of the gun to the new smoking hole in the wall behind the boss. The man looked like he was about to faint. Then she dropped the gun, threw it away from herself as if it was poisonous to touch. Then she turned to him. And fell.
He ran to her, ignoring the screaming muscles in his leg and gathering her up into his arms. Her face was white and he realized that her mask and hood were gone. He touched her face, brushing the hair back from her eyes.
"Come back to me, Aasia. Come back."
He felt warmth seeping into the fabric of his costume and looked down to see the large spreading dark stain in the fabric of hers. The stain was centered around two small holes just beneath her chest and even as he watched it spread further.
"Aasia, please come back."
Her eyelids flickered. Reaching up with one hand, he pulled his cowl and mask savagely off his head, bringing his face close to hers.
"It's me. Come, on. Come back."
Her eyes opened and he knew he had never seen anything more beautiful. Her voice was soft and shaking.
"I didn't -didn't…"
He reassured her quickly.
"No, no you didn't. You came back. You let him go.
"I'm not - not a k-killer."
He could feel the tears filling his eyes, blurring his vision and he blinked them away so that he could see her better.
"No, not a killer. You were never a killer. I never thought you were."
Her breath was getting ragged and a small trickle of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth.
"I lo…"
He stroked at her face, squeezing her in his arms, and trying to keep her with him.
"What is it, baby? It's ok. What is it?"
He could hear her struggling to breathe.
"I love -lo - love you."
The tears came then. He knew he was losing her. In one last attempt to keep her, he pressed his lips to hers. And he could feel her returning the kiss for a moment. And then she was gone. He pressed his cheek to hers, holding her tight as if would never let go, the tears pouring down his face to drop on the eyes now closed forever.
The boss, the only other conscious person in the room, heard a sob, a sound of a heart as it tears into pieces and lies bleeding as the man in black held the woman to him and rocked back and forth. Then he took his chance, crawling as quietly as he could towards the door. He moved quickly, disregarding the bodies of the unconscious bodyguards as he made his break for escape. He was almost at the door when he heard a sound behind him. He froze, the terror creeping into a cold knot in the pit of his stomach. Then he turned, slowly. The Batman was standing over him. The boss knew who he was. What criminal didn't? He knew that he didn't kill. And he knew that no one had ever seen his face. But here was the demon himself, unmasked. And there was no mistaking the death in his eyes. They were dark and hot with fury. Like chips of ice that could burn his very soul. He waited for something to happen. For the man to move, for him to say something, anything. A long moment passed. Tentatively, the boss opened his mouth to speak. Then with a roar, a wild animal sound that was more like a scream, the man picked him up by the front of his suit and hurled him with inhuman strength against the wall. He struck with a force that knocked the breath from his body and blacked out.
When he awoke again, he was being carried, handcuffed, in a stretcher to a waiting ambulance. As the medics carried him around a corner, he could just see several SWAT men looking at a large man-sized hole in the wall and shaking their heads.
Alfred was worried. Master Bruce had come home, but he could tell that part of him hadn't. Something in him had died that night, and he could see it in his eyes. He had refused to let him dress the wound in his leg and even now still sat staring out into the abyss of the Batcave. There was nothing he could do, Alfred knew that. But he also knew that Bruce would recover. He knew he would throw himself into his work with all of his soul. The Batman was so much a part of Gotham. He was the other side to the twisted, darkened soul that was Gotham. He could only hope that the good side would win out in the end.
Bruce looked up through the crevice in the ceiling of the cave. Overhead, the Batsignal shone brightly in the cloudy night sky.
