Dick Grayson
Harris Auto Repair, somewhere in Gotham
Friday, September 21st, 2012
When I pull to a stop, I've made up my mind. I need answers. Everything I'm doing is to be a better hero, to be a better fighter so I can keep my teammates and the people we're trying to protect safe. That's why I'm doing this. But it's really hard to remember that when all I can think about is the fact that Slade just killed someone and walked away clean.
I knew Slade was a mercenary from the beginning, but that's not… there's a difference between cold-blooded murder and eliminating someone who's an active danger to society. Slade said he only takes contracts that are justified, like violent gang leaders and terrorist cells or illegal militia groups. Batman targets those same criminals, but he'll never cross that line and neither will I. It makes me sick to think about it and I feel dirty keeping what I know secret when every night, Batman and I track down people like Slade and bring them to justice. I'm not stupid though. I can't tell anyone and I won't. Slade has risked so much for me and I owe him too much.
I know I can't fit Batman's beliefs into what he does but I just… I need to know why he took the last contract.
I climb off my bike and lean it against the wall. The garage is empty except for Mark hammering dents out of the frame of a beat-up Dodge Charger. He looks up when I walk by, waving his hammer once in greeting. I nod back before taking a deep breath and walking through the open door of Slade's office and closing it behind me.
For the first time, Slade isn't waiting in there for me.
I look around, but the room is empty, and the giant desktop computer is powered down. The files strewn over the desk are all closed, and there's no messages waiting for me on a piece of paper. My heart pounds from the relief of delaying the confrontation, but it's mixing with even more anxiety when it hits me that I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. I unlock the supply closet door to reveal the hidden staircase.
Carefully, I lock the door behind me and make my way down the stairs, pausing to punch in the security code to unlock the real door to the base. Once I get inside, I stop. The hallways always look exactly the same and I can never remember which doors actually lead to the main hall and which ones are just decoys that lead you back in a circle or don't even open at all. It takes an embarrassingly long time to get to Slade's real office, and when I do, it's like walking into the middle of a war zone.
Papers and stacks of files are everywhere and quickly thrown-up blueprints line the walls. Slade is in full uniform minus the mask and arsenal, pulling equipment from cabinets and drawers and dropping it unceremoniously into a set of black duffel bags on his desk.
"Good. You're here. We need to go."
"What?"
Go where? What's he talking about?
"One of my government contacts intercepted a message from the National Intelligence Department of Pokolistan to a splinter cell in New York. They want to get their hands on a sonic mesh prototype the National Science Foundation has been developing in collaboration with HEMI."
"HEMI? What is that?"
"It's a research institute located on the Johns Hopkins campus in Baltimore," he answers impatiently, digging a long-range scope out of the bag to make room for a large black-box. The scope disappears into the other bag, "HEMI loaned a research team to the NSF facility in Scarsdale, where they've been developing the prototype. My contact suspects that the Pokolistanis will try to steal the device tonight."
Slade practically throws a binder at me from across the room. I bring my hand up in time to catch it, caught off-guard by the sudden urgency. I flip through it, looking at page after page of building schematics and pictures of the NSF facility from the outside and the interior. Halfway through, the plans become profiles on the researchers involved with the project, complete with pictures and detailed bios.
"Our job is to make sure they don't get their hands on it, and to protect any of the scientists who may get in the way."
"Why would you they hire you to do that?" I ask, "Why not just have the cops on high alert?"
"Officially, the United States and Pokolistan are allies. Unofficially, as a former Soviet state, Pokolistan's interests align much more closely with that of Russia and its allies. If this group is caught and brought to media attention, the Pokolistani government will deny any ties, but it will push them farther towards our nation's enemies. If we capture the enemy agents, my clients will quietly deliver them back to their motherland and the matter can be dealt with between agencies. And restitutions can be made in the form of sanctions that will not destroy the remaining goodwill between our two countries."
"Oh."
"There are teams on stand-by waiting to respond, but they don't have the firepower necessary to respond to a full strike force. My contact received confirmation three minutes ago that they're moving on the facility tonight. Our presence might not be necessary, but in the worst-case scenario, we'll be acting alone until reinforcements arrive."
It's not the highest-stakes I've ever dealt with, but it sounds pretty serious.
"I've been analyzing the lab members' routines. At the end of every work day, the prototype is stored in a lockbox in the facility's basement storage center, and only the project leaders know the serial number. Anyone trying to steal the device will either need to target one of the five project managers, or go after the device before it is returned to storage. Unfortunately for the NSF, there is a large window for both options."
Slade takes the file from me and opens it to a new page.
"Dr. Palmer is the chief engineer on loan from HEMI. He has an extreme work ethic and usually remains in the lab long after his colleagues have gone home. There is a period from 9 to 11pm where the good doctor is alone, and he's a perfect unsuspecting target. The good news is that if the prototype can be discretely returned to storage and the project managers are out of reach, the Pokolistanis will lose their window."
"And the bad news?"
Slade looms over me, putting his hands on my shoulders, "There are no acceptable losses tonight. The Pokolistanis cannot be allowed to take the device. And I'm sure I don't need to tell you to keep the scientists safe."
I take a half-step back, nodding once I have room to breathe.
"You'll find your uniform and gear on your bed. Get changed. We leave in five."
It takes just under an hour to get from Gotham to Scarsdale, New York. The radio plays audio from a series of bugs Slade's contact managed to plant, and the entire ride is narrated by poor-quality Pokolistani chatter. It sounds a lot like a mix of Bulgarian accents speaking Russian and I can't follow a word of it. Instead, I flip through the binder, trying to figure out the building's layout and our best evacuation routes.
The ride passes in a blur, and I try to think about how similar this is to the team's mission to protect Dr. Rockette from the League of Shadows. Except that the League might already have Dr. Rockette and we have to stall for time until backup gets there. And instead of the Team, it's Slade. And I'm not Robin. I'm Renegade. I don't like the name that much, but Slade didn't ask my opinion and I can't think of anything better.
My hands are shaking and I take a deep breath, trying to distract myself again but nothing works for long. This is a real mission with Slade. Lives are on the line if I mess up.
We're only two minutes out from the facility when the bugged audio gets quiet and it turns into one guy giving short, regular updates. I think. Slade glowers and presses harder on the gas.
"They're inside. Beginning sweeps of the first-floor laboratories, but they've confirmed Palmer is in the building. Front and back exits have been compromised."
"What do we do?"
"There's no time for niceties. We go in through entry point five, get Palmer and the device to the basement, then we deal with the targets. If they intercept us, your job is to keep them busy. We cannot risk anything happening to the device-"
"Or the scientists," I interrupt. Slade glares at me and my stomach drops, "Sorry."
"So, I will keep them both out of harm's way. Whatever you have to do, do not let the targets get past you. Understood, Renegade?"
My heart misses a beat.
Renegade. Not Robin. That's never going to stop being weird.
"Understood."
The second the car pulls to a stop at the edge of the parking lot, Slade grabs his gear out of the trunk, pulls his mask down over his face and disappears into the darkness.
My heart pounds and I take a deep breath, holding it for six counts. We're here to keep people safe and prevent an international incident. I can do this. Bo staff in the back holster, projectiles loaded into pockets, mask over face.
There's a ring of black vans parked in a semi-circle around the loading zone, and an assortment of other cars around the lot that are definitely out of place. If they don't already know we're here, they'll be onto us soon. Lucky for me, I'm pretty good with shadows.
"Dr. Palmer," Slade says.
The scientist jumps a foot in the air and whips around, staring at us with an expression that's half shock and half terror.
"Who the hell are you?!" he shouts. I wince. Slade went in fully armed and I wouldn't want to be snuck up on by a guy with a massive gun either.
"I'm very sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, but you need to do as I say," Slade says, "Your life is in danger."
"I can see that!" Dr. Palmer snaps, face turning bright red, "What do you want?"
"Dr. Palmer, I was hired by an interested party in the United States' Army to ensure that both the anti-surveillance device and the technicians working on it stayed safe. I'm sorry to have alarmed you, but you will be in far greater danger if you don't evacuate right now."
"Bullshit," Dr. Palmer snaps, "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Then you will make it very easy for the squad of NIDP agents that just infiltrated the building to steal government property and abduct you in the process."
"What? NIDP like… like Pokolistan?"
"Correct. Dr. Palmer, we need to get moving."
"There's other people in the building," Dr. Palmer doesn't budge, "Cleaning staff are on the third floor by now, and the night shift is in the main office."
"We'll evacuate anyone we come across, but this device is their priority. We need to go, now."
Everything happens at once. I see a flicker of red light over Slade's chest. He shouts, "Get down!" and I launch myself behind a counter. Slade grabs Dr. Palmer and pulls him down, covering him as gunfire erupts over our heads.
Glass explodes and chunks of plaster get ripped from the wall and the workshop is suddenly a warzone.
There's shouting, and suddenly a team of heavily armed agents dressed head to toe in black tactical gear storm the room. Five just came in through the main door, there's another five by the side door and at least three outside the windows judging by the spray of gunfire and pattern of broken glass. My new bo staff is in my hands before I can think about it.
I look back at Slade, who has one arm keeping Dr. Palmer down and the other reaching for a smoke grenade. He nods at me.
Alright then. Guess I get to deal with all of the enemy agents by myself. Fun.
Slade throws the smoke grenade and I spring out from behind the table amid a cloud of gas. I flip in midair, pressing the latch to extend my bo staff to full length and the ends crackle with electricity.
Flashlight beams shine through the cloud of smoke but it's too dense to see more than a few inches and none of the agents see me until my feet slam onto the shoulders of the guy at the front of their five-point formation. He goes down hard, helmet slamming against the ground and I hear shouts of alarm from the other four.
One slash with my bo staff hits right where the helmet meets the chest armor, electrified end meeting collarbone. He shouts as electricity shoots through him before dropping to the ground. Another strike hits the guy across from him with the other end.
Two beams of light find my chest but I'm already in the air again, and their bullets rip through the space where I was a second ago. I hear grunts of pain as projectiles hit bulletproof armor with twenty-five thousand pounds per square inch of force. The hit knocks them back and I take advantage while they're off guard.
My bo staff slashes up, knocking the helmet off the guy on my right and I follow with an elbow strike that knocks him down. My leg whips around in a spinning kick to nail the other guy in the head.
Eight seconds. All five are down, and they're not getting back up. That's better than in Bialya.
The cloud of smoke is just starting to dissipate but it feels like it's sticking in my throat. I fight back the urge to cough, because if I give away my position there's another eight heavily armed NIDP agents in the room. I have about five seconds to get across the room before they know where I am, but they might open fire any second.
I reach for a birdarang but my hand comes up empty.
Shit. No utility belt. No cape either. If they start shooting, I'm wide open.
And now I'm just standing here losing time.
I need another distraction before I can risk moving. There are metal cabinets on either side of the doorway that stand about six feet tall. I slam my staff against the metal surface as hard as I can and take two hard steps in the other direction.
The metal crashes into the cabinet and makes a sound like a bomb going off, and the Pokolistanis answer with gunfire. I vault up to the top of the cabinets on the other side and the sound of my feet landing is covered by the still-ringing metal and spray of gunfire. Plus, the smoke is still thick up here and it should be enough to cover me. I sprint across the room on top of the cabinets, out of view of the agents. Through the ringing in my ears, I can hear shouting, both from the Pokolistani agents and Dr. Palmer.
I flip down, kicking one of the agents in the head and as soon as I land, I sprint between two more. I extend my bo staff again and the electricity hits both of them at once.
Gunfire explodes in my ears and pressure slams against my chest and my right bicep burns. I stumble backwards, years of Bat-paranoia pulling me behind a workbench for cover before I realize what happened. I look down and see a silver piece embedded in my chest plate and there's a long scratch along my right arm. Two bullets. I have to be more careful.
I grab a projectile from my pocket and when the agent follows me around the bench, I throw it. The metal lodges itself in his right hand and he grunts, dropping the barrel of his gun. I swing through with my bo staff, knocking the weapon clean out of his hands.
I dodge a punch to the face and answer with a kick at his chest. My foot makes contact but he squares his stance and his body armor absorbs the blow. He grabs my leg in a tight lock and throws me, ripping the staff out of my hands. I pull my legs in and roll backwards when I land.
He charges forwards, slashing the staff across my body. I dive under it, landing behind him and as he turns, I throw one leg between his feet and grab him in a lock with one arm around his neck and the other looping under his right armpit. I use his momentum to throw him, slamming him down against the floor. Dropping to one knee, I grab four of the pressure points on his face and neck and push until he goes limp and the heaving breaths turn to a steady, unconscious rhythm.
Behind me, Slade brushes off his hands. The last agent is out cold and Dr. Palmer pushes the guy's head with his foot to get a better look at his face. He doesn't look like a civilian who was just attacked by a squad of foreign intelligence agents. He looks like someone who's used to being in the line of fire.
I frown.
There was nothing Slade's file about him being ex-military, so either he's in shock or there's something weird about him because he is way too calm right now.
"They're alive," Slade's voice is all business, "There's three more outside the window, and at least another two teams attempting to secure the building. Expect four more teams at the most, not counting surveillance around the building."
He pulls a pack of zipties out of some pouch or pocket and throws half of them to me.
"Secure them all. We want them alive and in one piece. Palmer, don't move."
Dr. Palmer doesn't look happy about it, but he grabs the case by the handles and scans the room for any more threats. Together, it only takes me and Slade a few minutes to take care of all the agents.
"We need to draw the rest of them out. Make them think they still have a shot at the device that justifies sending the full team in."
"Or we can call for help. As a government building, there's a direct line to the Justice League in the main office. While you're drawing them out, I'll go," Dr. Palmer says. His voice sounds strained; not that I blame him, but something still just feels wrong about this.
"Absolutely not. You're not leaving my sight, Dr. Palmer. If anything happens to you, I lose out on a very large paycheck and I will not be pleased if that happens. Besides, the entire building is in a dead-zone. No electronic signals can get in or out," he takes stock of the room and looks back at Dr. Palmer, "How many people are on this floor right now?"
He shakes his head, "Berger and Tisch are the only other labs on the floor, and they're all out by seven. Other than that, the cleaning crews start on the top floor and work down. They won't get to this floor until eleven-thirty at the earliest. Anyone else is in the main office on the ground floor," he looks at Slade evenly, "Are they still alive?"
"The hostiles came in through the loading dock in the back and came straight up. As long as we give them a target, everyone else is low priority. We'll go down the-"
Dr. Palmer's head snaps up, "Aakshi! She's a post-doc in Ron's group! She's been staying late across the hall."
"Renegade," Slade orders, and I'm sprinting out the door. The hallway is wide open, but it's clear of any NIDP agents. I run down the hall, turning left at the branch to Dr. Berger's lab just like the blueprints said. The main corridor lights are on but all the doors are closed and dark except for room 416. The lock has been forced open already and I push my way inside.
A tall Indian woman with dark blue glasses and a long ponytail looks up. The worktop in front of her is littered with metal scraps and welding gear, but there's nothing in front of her and she's not wearing any of the protective gear scattered around the lab.
"Who are you?" she demands. She sounds angry, not scared or surprised but she doesn't move from behind the lab bench.
"Aakshi, Dr. Palmer sent me to find you. There are foreign agents trying to kill you. I'm here to get you out."
Her eyes widen at Dr. Palmer's name, but she still makes no effort to move.
"This is private property. You are trespassing," her voice is full of irritation, but her eyes point down beneath the bench. I tilt my head and point at the floor in front of her. She holds up two fingers before she gestures to her other side and taps the bench lightly, "Get out."
I knew it. There're two hostiles in the room; one beneath the bench and the other one somewhere to my right. Drawing fire is the best bet to keep her safe right now.
I stride into the room, getting close enough that I'll be able to jump over the lab bench in two steps, "I'm not leaving unless you come with me."
Aakshi's eyes widen and I hear one set of footsteps.
"Then you won't be leaving," a man says in heavily accented English. I don't need to turn around to know that he's got a gun pointed at me. There's still no sign of his partner and I need to know where he is before I risk anything.
"You're helping them?!" I demand, glaring at her and pretending to ignore the guy behind me.
"No!" she exclaims in shock.
"Quiet! You, how many did you come with?" the agent growls.
No good. I have to try again.
"Palmer wouldn't let us evac without you, and you're working with them?! We were clear to go and…"
"I'm not!" she shouts back.
"He said quiet!" the other agent unfolds himself from his hiding spot, brandishing his gun. Aakshi squeaks, stepping back. I slam my elbow backwards, using my full momentum to nail the first agent with an elbow strike to the throat. A roundhouse kick to the temple drops him to the floor. I vault over the bench, bo staff extended and drive the electrified end into the other agent. He twitches as he goes down.
"Holy shit!" Aakshi stares at me.
"Let's go."
"Yeah. Okay."
"Thank god," Dr. Palmer says, grabbing Aakshi by the arm to pull her next to him, "Are you okay?"
"Ray, what the hell is going on here?!"
"Any trouble?" Slade asks me.
"Two. There's a lot more of them, but I don't know how many or where. This hallway is clear though."
"No! What's going on?!" Aakshi demands, but she keeps her voice low, "Who are they?"
She points at me and Slade. Dr. Palmer opens his mouth to answer but changes his mind and shuts it without saying anything. Slade steps forward and I can tell he's impressed when Aakshi holds her ground.
"We're independent contractors hired by the US government. There are foreign agents attempting to steal Dr. Palmer's prototype and abduct any project members that may be useful. My job is to make sure that doesn't happen."
Aakshi whips around to stare at Dr. Palmer, "What the hell are you working on? Your project is short-range soundwave depletion."
"For counter-intelligence," Dr. Palmer admits.
"So, we're trapped in the building with these two versus however many people trying to kill the rest of us because the government has you playing secret agent?!"
"Dr. Girish," Slade interrupts, "I am very good at my job. You are going to make it out of this in one piece."
"And what about everyone else in the building?" she shoots back, "These men are armed and trigger happy. How are you going to keep everyone safe?"
"By dealing with the threat as efficiently as possible."
"How? Do you know how many of them are in the building? Where they are?"
"It would be really helpful if I had a computer right now," I hiss, shooting a glare at Slade. If I had my holocomputer, I'd already have access to the building's security feeds. Even if the internet is being blocked, the building's intranet works independently of outgoing signals; all I need is a computer connected to the building's system.
"By all means," Slade pushes me towards the computer on the ground behind Dr. Palmer's workspace. It must have fallen in the chaos, but only the monitor is cracked. After a few seconds, I've put it back together and managed to access the building intranet through an old cable sticking out of the wall. Most places don't even have them anymore, so that's really lucky.
"You're not going to be able to get anything off that!" Dr. Palmer tries to protest, "Any sensitive material is password protected and encrypted. Only the terminals in the main office can access security systems."
I ignore him and keep typing, winding around backdoors and pushing through firewalls that any of Batman's programs would have open in seconds.
"I've got eyes on them," I tell Slade two minutes later, before pointing up at the 360 degree security camera mounted on the ceiling, "Us too."
"How did you do that?" Dr. Palmer demands.
"Put us on a loop," Slade orders. It's a pretty new system, so most of the updated video controls are enabled and it only takes a few commands before anyone watching our security feed will only see us standing around the computer.
Slade directs me through various video feeds, and to both of the scientists' relief, the custodial staff is on the sixth floor and are working undisturbed. But there's another team of agents standing guard in front of the main office, with the workers all locked inside.
More teams comb the lower hallways, and all the exit points are covered too.
"We have a clear shot down to the basement. Hallways and elevators are wide open," I report.
"It's a trap. They'll ambush us when we move the device."
"What do we do?"
"We take the device down to storage and let them ambush us."
"What?!" I turn.
"They're expecting us to go down, so the device will remain upstairs. We'll load the container with a decoy. Palmer, do any of the cabinets in here lock?"
Dr. Palmer nods, "All the flammables cabinets and chem hoods lock. They're mostly empty, we just have IPA to clean the RF-melter and compressed butane refills for the torches."
I blink at the jargon but Dr. Girish is already pulling huge brown jugs out from the cupboard and moving them to a tall yellow cabinet on the other side of the room. I stand guard while they move all the bottles of flammable chemicals and replace it with the prototype before filling the empty lock-box with scrap metal. It's heavy enough that if we lose the box, the Pokolistanis won't realize it's fake until they open it.
As soon as Dr. Palmer clicks the lock into place, Slade nods.
"Now we go down."
It's a short elevator ride to the basement, but it's the longest minute of my life. I spend the whole-time watching Slade, looking for some clue that he's got a plan besides "spring the trap."
When the doors open, Slade is out first.
"Clear," he says. Palmer and Girish are out next, pushing the cart with the decoy between them. Slade holds up a fist and I hit the elevator stop button, causing the doors to freeze halfway closed. Anyone else who comes downstairs will have to come through the staircase and that gives us some control over access points. Worst case, we can retreat to the elevator and strategically run away.
The scientists lead us to the entrance to the storage block, and the door should be protected by an eight-digit passcode with thumbprint recognition. Instead, the locks are disengaged and the door is already open. Slade goes in first, but it's still quiet.
Next, they wheel the cart through and I take a deep breath before following them inside.
When I open my eyes, I'm in lying on a bed in a small, dark room. My head hurts like it's been stabbed by a hundred small knives and it takes me a painful thirty seconds to realize that I'm in my room in the Haunt.
Then my memory catches up.
The scientists!
I bolt up, knocking my pillow and sheets to the ground as I scramble off the bed, scrambling for the light switch. I turn the lights on and wince when the sudden brightness sends a spike of pain through my head. Looking down, I realize I'm in a pair of shorts and a gray t-shirt that I left here a couple weeks ago. Nothing's bleeding or broken, but my body hurts like I took on fifteen guys at once and my head feels like someone dropped the Batmobile on it.
A quick search of the room reveals there's no note from Slade anywhere, no instructions of any kind. I have to find him if I want any answers.
I throw open the door and stop dead.
The hallway is dark.
I swallow, heart beating even faster. The lights in the hallway are always on.
Always.
The office door isn't locked, but it's empty and the lights are off. It looks neater than it did, but there's still blueprints on the walls and folders on the desks that means it really happened. I head back to the hallway and try the kitchen, the dining room, and the gym, but it's all empty.
I'm not panicking.
I'm not.
I might be about to start panicking when I see a light reflected off the gym's mirrored wall. Turning around, I follow the light out of the gym, through a door to another hallway, and around a corner. There's a crack in the wall with light coming out of it. When I get closer, I realize it's a hidden door disguised to look like part of the wall.
Taking a deep breath, I push it open. My stomach drops and I feel nauseous.
It's an armory. It looks like an advertisement for a gun shop in the South. Every wall and shelf is piled with weapons, and there are cabinets off to the far side of the room I don't even want to think about.
Slade is sitting at a table against the wall with a pile of disassembled guns in front of him. He looks up when I come in, setting down the metal casing in his hands.
"Good, you're awake," he says, sounding relieved.
"What happened?"
"Not here," he stands up, nodding his head at the door. I follow him back to the kitchen where he pushes a bottle of water at me, "You need to rehydrate."
"What happened?" I repeat, playing with the cap.
"What do you remember?"
I frown.
"We got off the elevator with the scientists and the decoy and we were about to go inside the storage facility. Then I woke up. What happened? Is everyone okay?"
Slade sighs, sitting down heavily in the chair across from me.
"There was one casualty."
"What? Who?!"
"Dr. Palmer was… dragged out by the agents."
My mouth drops open in horror, "He's dead?"
"No, he's okay. I caught up to them in time, but…" He sighs again, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, Richard. I was too far away to reach them. Shooting the agent was the only way to save Palmer's life, and the ambulance didn't get there in time."
I lean back, stomach churning with relief and sadness. Protecting the civilians is the most important thing. The agent was trying to kill an innocent man. Slade was doing his job.
"I'm sorry. I wish there had been another way, but Palmer would been killed if I hadn't."
"But… he's safe?"
Slade nods solemnly, "Palmer and Girish are both fine, if a little shaken. Everyone else in the building was unharmed. You kept her safe while I went after Palmer, and by the time I got back you'd taken a blow to the head. She says you saved her life."
I let out a shaky breath, letting my head rest against the table.
"Otherwise, the mission was a success. The Pokolistani agents were taken into custody by the CIA, and suitable arrangements were made for the deceased agent. Dr. Palmer and his group are also being relocated to another facility with better security."
I stare at the wall, trying to sort through it all but my head hurts so badly I can barely think. The important thing is that the scientists are safe and we helped stop an international incident. We won this fight.
But I just feel sick.
"You need to sleep. You might be concussed, and straining yourself right now is the last thing you need."
Sleep. Okay. I can do that.