Here's Part 10. Some appearances y'all have been wanting might be included in this one

;-) I hope you enjoy. Thanks go out to my wonderful betas Patty, Tammy and Syl :-) Char

COURT MARTIAL: PART 10:

Barbara Gordon pulled her thick red hair together and threaded it through a pale green scrunchy into a ponytail. She'd spent the last hour running a search on Catalina Flores and her brother, Bludhaven's District Attorney, Mateo Flores. The search was far from over, but it had given her enough information for her operatives. It had given her something productive to do while she waited for all of her operatives to converge on the Clocktower.

They were all here now, her closest friends, her allies, and ... others. She had told them why she needed them, had told them what the new Tarantula had done. She had faced her computer screens as she finished reciting her tale. It was easier than watching their faces. Easier than having them watch hers. Taking a deep breath, Barbara ran her tongue along her now dry lips before she turned towards her agents.

Barbara had left out a few details, specifically the non-consensual sex between Nightwing and Tarantula. Every fiber of her being wanted to tell them that as well, but Dick's insistence that that part of the incident be held in confidence forced her to hold her tongue. Except with Dinah. Dinah Lance was the first to arrive at the Clocktower. In their moments alone, Barbara had revealed that dark secret to her friend.

Dinah Lance stood, her arms crossed across her chest, her face turned slightly toward the shadows of the wall. Dinah was Barbara's best friend and closest ally in the world. She was the one Barbara told her secrets to. She also truly understood the ramifications of what Barbara had explained. Dinah understood the devastation of one's soul that a forced sexual encounter caused.

Barbara's eyes moved next to Cassandra Cain. This was her protégé, her pseudo daughter, and a little sister all in one; and she was the current Batgirl. Cassandra had, luckily been spared that sort of pain. Not for someone's lack of trying. Barbara was sure many people had tried to take advantage of Cassandra in her many years as a child growing up on the streets. Barbara's lip slightly twitched upward at the thought of the surprise Cass's attackers would have had and wondered at how many broken bones she had caused.

Helena Bertinelli had walked to the window, staring out at the city lights. She and Dick Grayson had a ... fling ... for lack of a better word. It was never a real relationship. He had never told her his name, though Barbara suspected Helena knew. Helena wasn't stupid, and she had seen Dick without his mask. In fact, she had seen more than just his face, but rather all of him ... au naturale. It was obvious from her stance, from the way she rested her shoulder on the window sill, that the news had bothered her. Lately, she and Dick had been acting like they hated each other. Barbara knew that wasn't the case. She understood, more than she wanted to admit, the need to cover emotion with rage.

Her eyes drifted to Selina Kyle. It wasn't everyday that Catwoman stood in the Clocktower. In fact, this was the first time. She was in 'the family' now though. Bruce had told her everything. He did not do that lightly. It meant something. Among other things, it meant she could be trusted ... with everything. Barbara studied her face. A singular emotion encompassed her sharp features. Selina seemed to be somewhere both in the present and in the past ... indecipherable.

A low growl caused Barbara's attention to turn to the room's final occupant. K'oriandr of Tamaran. Princess, warrior, Titan, and former lover of Dick Grayson. Barbara knew Kory was the only woman in the world who rivaled her for Dick's affection. They had almost married. Almost. She watched as the golden skinned alien's hands glowed a lethal green. Their green eyes locked with each other and an instant understanding passed between them. Tarantula had hurt the man they loved. That would not be given free pass.

Clearing her throat, Barbara spoke again. "So we're all clear? I want you to bring me Tarantula's head. The rest of her ... purely optional."


Dinah Lance drove her black motorcycle to the wrought iron gates of a Tudor mansion in Avalon Hills. Records showed that Bludhaven Properties had rented this estate to one E. M. Morton. At a whopping ten thousand a month, the tenant had to be a person of obvious means, ill-gotten or not. The initials fit Lady Elaine Marsh-Morton, a member of the British blue-blood aristocracy who was also known in seedier circles as the assassin Lady Vic. She was the only one of Blockbuster's paid posse that Nightwing hadn't hospitalized in the day between the destruction of his apartment building and Blockbuster's death.

There had to be a reason that she had avoided Nightwing's ire during that twenty-four hour period. Dinah intended to find out why, because her gut told her that the answer to why was going to be important. Dinah had no evidence to back up her supposition, but she knew that it had something to do with Tarantula. She stared at the gates and debated stealth or the direct approach. Batman would go with stealth. Green Arrow would go with the direct approach. Dinah's blue eyes narrowed, she'd find her own way in.

She revved the engine on her motorcycle and circled the estate noting the perimeter guards. Pulling up on the south side of the estate, she stopped the bike and looked up at the large oak trees. "Guess it's time this canary got a bird's eye view." Dinah jumped up, her hands grasping an overhanging limb. She used the limb to springboard into a flip over the estate wall. She grabbed another limb and pulled herself up into the tree. "I gotta remember to thank Nightwing for those practice sessions." He had been right; acrobatics could come in handy as much as any martial art. She could also use the trees to avoid the security cameras leading to the house.

Using the treetop highway, Dinah made her way to the house and jumped to one of the gables. She used the mortar blocks on the corner of the house as hand and foot holds as she rappelled her way to the third story balcony. Her hands gripped the ornamental round railings of the balcony wall as she pulled herself up and over them.

"Her ladyship is not receiving visitors tonight," a very large man stated with a crisp British accent.

Dinah looked the man over. He was well-dressed and very, very large. It was obvious from the way he stood that he was more than just the butler. "And you are?"

"Bivens. Valet to her ladyship."

"Bivens, huh. Nice to meet you, Bivens," Dinah said as she stalked forward. She watched the man as he crouched into a fighting stance. She smiled at him. "I'm Black Canary. Hope you don't mind if I sing you a song." She opened her mouth and released the sonic Canary Cry. She watched as Bivens grabbed his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound. He was unsuccessful and dropped to his knees before passing completely out. Dinah stepped over him as she entered the house. "Thanks for the invite Bivens. Why don'tcha take a little nap?"

Opening the double French doors, Black Canary entered the second floor of the large home. Confident in her abilities, she walked through the corridors of the mansion. She only gave the gilded surroundings a fleeting glance as she headed toward the only door on the floor where light seeped under the door. Dinah knew Lady Vic was an assassin of the first order. Her abilities were well known to Black Canary. Lady Vic had managed to go toe to toe with Nightwing on more than one occasion. Dinah knew that took some formidable skill, even if Lady Vic had not emerged victorious in those endeavors. Dinah braced herself for a fight before she threw open the solid mahogany door.

She hadn't braced herself for what she saw. Lady Vic lay in the dark four-poster bed. The British assassin's skin was as pale as the white sheets of the bed she lay in. Lady Vic was enlaced with tubes -- a chest tube that sucked the blood from her lungs and immobilized her from most movement. Oxygen was being feed to her body through a nasal cannula and IV's pumped morphine and antibiotics.

Canary approached the bed and looked down upon the occupant then up at the white-coat clad doctor on the far side of the bed. "What happened to her?"

"Gunshot wound. Close range, not quite point blank, but I'd wager no more than three or four feet," the doctor replied as he eyed the costume superhero.

"What type of gun?"

"A .22 caliber. Tore past her clothing and into her rib cage puncturing her lung. Our major problem was keeping her from drowning in her own blood and from bleeding out. She was lucky she received medical attention as soon as she did."

"A .22 did all of that?" Canary looked back at the doctor. "No offense, Doc. But that's a lot of damage for a small caliber."

The doctor shrugged. "It is possible for a normal small caliber bullet do that much damage, but this wasn't normal. From what I've been told it was a "hot" load, which means more powder for bigger bang and more velocity. I don't normally treat that many gun shot wounds or deal with them post mortem, so I'll just go with what her manservant told me. From what I've seen of the damage the bullet had done, she's fortunate to have gotten to care quickly enough. Even another five minutes, and it would have been too late."

Canary was shaking her head as she looked at the injured woman. "How ... when?"

"Two nights ago," the doctor said as he proceeded to examine his patient.

"Tar ... ant ... ula," a low, hoarse voice whispered.

Dinah was startled by the female voice and directed her attention back to the patient in the bed. She moved to the head of the bed and sat in the brown leather wingback, which she was positive Bivens sat vigil in, as guard and loyal servant. "Tarantula did this to you? Why?"

"I was ... trying to gut her," Lady Vic's breath caught at the pain as she tried unsuccessfully to move. She paused and closed her eyes, before she continued, "at the time."

"Too bad you missed," Dinah mused softly before resuming her interrogation. "Why were you trying to kill her? Was it just her sparkling personality or did you have more reason?"

"My employer felt ... she was ... a liability."

Black Canary's eyes went wide. "Blockbuster put a hit out on Tarantula!" Then Tarantula had murdered Blockbuster. She turned at the sound of the opening door to see an angry Bivens staggering slightly in the door frame. "Doc, he needs Extra Strength Excedrin, he's got a canary-sized migraine that I guarantee is a bitch." Smiling she opened her comm link. "Oracle, your favorite operative has some good intell, and I didn't have to break a nail."


Alfred washed the dishes as his mind wandered elsewhere. The scrubbing in the hot soapy water was instinctive and did not require his thoughts. It was good, as his thoughts were preoccupied hundreds of thousands of miles away on the moon. He did not like envisioning Dick in a holding cell on the Watch Tower, so he kept himself busy trying to stop himself from continuously thinking of it. His plan was not working the way he had hoped. Alfred was so preoccupied in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed that he had washed the singular plate three times, nor had he noticed the kitchen door swing open and the breathing of the occupant who was silently watching him.

The unseen guest cleared his throat causing Alfred to turn from the sink. A smile formed on his face as he sat the plate in the dish rack. He dried his hands on his apron as he crossed the room to greet his visitor. "Master Timothy! How wonderful it is to see you."

Tim smiled, "It's good to be here Alf." He hugged the elderly man tight. He felt like he had come home after year's of journeying.

"Does your father know you're here lad?"

Tim shrugged and moved to the kitchen table. "Dunno. I doubt it." He sat down and stared at the wood grain on the tabletop. "I heard about Dick. It's all over the news." The boy sighed. "I can't believe the JLA is going to try him for murder."

"It is disconcerting," Alfred agreed as he gave Tim a reassuring squeeze and crossed the kitchen. He pulled two bowls from the cupboard and then a larger bowl from the stainless steel refrigerator. Taking a serving spoon, he started dipping the dark creamy mixture into the two bowls. "Master Bruce and Miss Barbara are working on his defense."

Tim sniffled slightly. "I feel ... this is all my fault."

Alfred felt his eyebrow quirk upward at this statement. He knew his charges had a great propensity for guilt and blaming themselves for the ills of the world, yet this statement surprised him. "How so, young Sir?"

Tim looked up from the table. "Because." It was a statement. It should be enough explanation. Seeing the quizzical expression on Alfred's face, Tim continued. "If I had still been Robin, Dick would've called me. I would've had his back. This wouldn't have happened."

Alfred turned back to the counter and returned the large bowl to the refrigerator. He pulled the gallon of milk out and poured two glasses. "He could have called Master Bruce or Miss Cassandra or --"

"No he couldn't," Tim exclaimed. "Calling in Bruce would've been saying he couldn't do the job, that he couldn't handle it. And calling in Cass well ... no ... this ... he needed me. Needed me, and I failed him. Now I'm gonna lose him forever."

Alfred sat a bowl of chocolate pudding and a glass of milk before Tim. "Rubbish. This is not your fault Master Tim. Master Dick could have called in a number of people to aid him; however he is so like Master Bruce that he was determined to handle the Blockbuster situation alone. I saw him in Bludhaven after the explosion of his building. Don't be so quick to convict him either. Miss Barbara assured Master Bruce and me that this was far from a sure thing. Now eat your pudding." He turned to the counter and took the other bowl of pudding and glass of milk and sat it at the table. "Miss Cassandra, please come from the shadows and eat your pudding as well."

Tim turned to see Cassandra emerge from the inky blackness of the corner on the other side of the room. She pulled her Batgirl mask off her face and dropped it on the table as she sat across from Tim. She picked up a spoon and started eating. Looking up at Tim, she said, "He should've called me."

"Is that why you're here Miss Cassandra?" Alfred inquired.

She shrugged. "No. Oracle wants Tarantula found. I'm supposed to be looking." She rested her head in her hand as she leaned on the table and shoveled the pudding into her mouth. "I don't know how to look for her. I'm not a detective ... yet. Oracle sent us out but ... she's not directing. She's busy with other things."

Tim stared at her for a moment. An internal conflict was taking place. After a few moments, his eyes narrowed and a slight smile formed on his face. "C'mon Cass, lets hit the computers in the cave and see what we can come up with."

Cass smiled and quickly followed. Alfred heard their excited chatter until they disappeared behind the clock. He cleared the bowls, glasses and silverware from the table and returned to washing the dishes, more contented than he had been earlier.


Mateo Flores grumbled to himself as he entered his office on the sixth floor of the Haven County Courthouse. Blockbuster's death had left the corrupt elements of Bludhaven fighting for control of the city. That was causing problems for the Bludhaven Police Department which, in turn, was causing problems for the District Attorney's Office. Those problems were his problems. And he did not have time for problems ... not now. He dropped the manila file folders on the walnut desk with a thud and exhaled a disgruntled breath. Occasionally, he felt like he could strangle his sister. Today was one of those days. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Where are you Cat?"

"That's what I want to know. I hope for your sake, you have some idea."

Mateo jumped and whirled around seeing no one in the darkness. "Qi en es?"

From behind him, Batman silently moved from the shadowy blackness of the corner. "I'll repeat ... Where is she?"

Bludhaven's D.A. backed away from the behemoth before him. "Who ... what ... are you?"

"Where. Is. Tarantula?" His words were low and harsh, like a demon who had freshly escaped hell. He quickly closed the distance between himself and Flores. Batman grabbed the man by the lapels of his double breasted suit and hoisted him into the air. He slammed him hard against the wood panelled wall. "I won't ask you again."

Sweat popped on the thirty-year old's brow. He felt his feet leave the floor as Batman hoisted him to his eye level. Except, he seemed not to have any eyes. Only great white slits. It was like looking into the abyss of hell. "I ... I don't know ... why would you think I would know -- "

"She's your sister, you have to have some idea," Batman ground out. "NOW WHERE IS SHE?"

"I don't know. I swear," Flores stammered out. His sweat poured freely as he struggled against Batman's grip. His struggles were to no avail. "Why do you care where she is? It's Nightwing isn't it? She won't help you. They were working together."

"No." Batman violently shook him and slammed his head into the wall. Photographs of Mateo and his sister fell from the wall and crashed into the floor.

"Catalina can't help him. They came to me together."

"And you destroyed the disc," Batman declared in an accusatory tone. He glared at the man.

"Blockbuster would've ... killed ... me ... if I hadn't ..."

"And I won't. The truth! Now!" Batman dragged the sniffling man to the window. He thrust the Bludhaven district attorney out the window and held him aloft over the busy street below.

"You ... you ... won't ... kill."

"Won't I?"

"You can't do this ... " Mateo Flores' hands flayed trying to grasp the window sill. His attempts were unsuccessful.

"Tarantula's location. Now."

"I told you I don't know," the man cried. "He was with Cat at my apartment. She left ... then he left. I haven't seen her since that night. I don't know what happened. I don't know what they did. I told him to go after her to stop her."

Batman let Flores drop slightly in his grip. A wave of vertigo hit him as his stomach seemed to drop. The sound of city traffic rushed up at him from below. "Madre de Dios. Don't drop me."

"Then tell me what I want to know."

"You ... you're bluffing. You just want to scare me. You wouldn't kill --"

"The rules changed. We kill now. Haven't you heard? Nightwing killed Blockbuster, so I can kill you." Batman thrust him further out the window so all of the man was hanging out the window over the street below. "If the fall doesn't kill you, I'm sure the traffic will. Nightwing tells me rush hour's murder. Where. Is. She?"

Mateo rambled on in an almost incoherent Spanish prayer for mercy from God and the demon that held him. Finally, weeping in terror he sputtered out, "Please … please … I … don't know, she … she's been missing. She wasn't where I told her to meet me. I…I don't know."

Batman lifted Mateo and flung him back into the office. His body hit the wall with a dull thud. Menacingly, Batman approached him. His black gloved hands gripped Flores' hair. "Batman lowered his face into Mateo's. His breath was hot on his face. Batman ground out his next question. "Where did you tell her to meet you?"

"She ... she had … she had been staying near Parkthorne. Had surveillance set up of a cop near there. I don't know why ... in a ... building. Overlooking that apartment building that was bombed. I told her to meet me there … but she didn't show; at least not while I was there. She ... she could have gone back to there."

Batman dropped the man and turned to leave, his cape billowing behind him. Reaching the window he shot his line into the night. "I'll be back if she's not." He tilted his head slightly toward the shadows. "He knows something else. Something about Tarantula's plan. Get it from him. Report back to me." He paused, then continued, "Don't worry about being too gentle, normal rules do not apply." He disappeared into the darkness as light steps approached Mateo.

Mateo Flores trembled on the floor and turned his head to a new figure in black. He cut his hand on broken glass as he tried to move away. His hand left a bloody smear as he tried to back away on the floor. He looked up at the black leather clad figure before him. Bending before him, she stroked her leather whip across his cheek and purred, "Don't worry, I'm never gentle. You like it rough don't you?" Mateo's bladder released and Catwoman laughed. "Why don't you tell me the rest of what you know? The things you didn't tell Batman."

"T-There's nothing to --"

Catwoman's talon scrapped across his cheek. His hand flew to the blood welling up out of the long scratch. She shook her head, "Mateo, Mateo … surely you haven't forgotten that I'm NOT one of the good guys? A lot of people make that mistake, but surely you're smarter than that? A big, tough, corrupt, D.A. like yourself, you've read my files. You know, it is so much fun being bad. I know you know that too, since you worked with Blockbuster." A wicked smile graced her face and she leaned closer to the shivering man. "I enjoy being bad, I'm better when I'm bad. So lying to me isn't a smart way to start off our relationship. I might think you don't like me or didn't take me seriously. That would hurt my feelings and then I would hurt you … very, very much. So, let's try this again," her claw poised over his throat as she snarled into his face, "Tell. ME. EVERYTHING!"

TO BE CONTINUED . . .