Dick Grayson
The Haunt
Thursday, November 8th, 2012
I drive through the partially opened garage door and park against the wall. The garage is empty except for two half-dismantled cars, but the lights are on. The garage door closes itself behind me with a heavy whirring sound. I take off my helmet and place it on the seat of my motorcycle as the office door opens. Slade walks out, dressed in his full uniform minus the black and orange mask.
"You were almost late," his frown is set on his face like carved stone. My stomach tightens and my pulse jumps.
"I'm two minutes early!"
"What happened?" he makes the casual question sound like a demand.
"I got caught up with the Team but I left as fast as I could."
He stares at me, his eye moving over my face and I try to meet his gaze without flinching. Finally, he nods his head at his office.
"The doors are unlocked. Go get dressed and meet me in the office."
He steps to the side to let me hurry past him into the fake office, through the hidden closet door and down the hidden staircase. I pause at the bottom of the stairs, putting a hand on the keypad that unlocks the heavy metal door. Right now, I might know that the passcode is 8551947, but he could change it. He has all the power on the other side of the door. If he decides not to let me out again, I'm trapped.
But for now, if I listen to him, I'm okay.
I pull open the door and weave through the identical hallways of matching doors to take the shortest path to my room. The light turns on automatically when I open the door, revealing the same tiny room with a single dresser against the wall and a small mirror and the twin bed with blue sheets against the back wall. The door snaps shut behind me.
Home sweet home, or something like that.
Renegade's uniform is laid out on the bed. I take a deep breath and get changed. The pants are a little looser than my Kevlar uniform, but there are pouches and hidden compartment all the way down the legs. The chest armor is heavy and the extra padding makes my arms feel bulky and awkward. The mask is the worst part. It's a domino mask but it's spikier and wider than my usual one and the mask glue is sticky and pulls at my skin when it dries. The fabric sits weirdly and changes the whole shape of my face. When I look in the mirror, I don't recognize myself.
I just see a monster.
My gear is spread out on top of the drawers. I load the projectiles into the pockets on my hip and tuck the assortment of knives into hidden compartments down my legs. The sharpest looking one goes into a pocket on my waist for easy drawing. The electric bo-staff clips into the pocket in the back. It's easier to load the smoke grenades than it was last time, but after I get them secured I realize something is different.
There's no grenades. That better be a good thing.
I do one last sweep for missing gear that isn't grenades and everything else is in the right place. There's no more stalling. I only have so long before Slade gets pissed at me.
One last deep breath.
I don't want to do this.
The door to Slade's office is open. As I walk in, Slade asks, "I'm sure you're up to date on all your vaccinations?"
"I know you've seen my medical records," I answer, coming to a stop in front of his desk where there's a stack of rolled blueprints waiting, "Why?"
"You're probably aware that there is a widespread outbreak of Dengue in Africa, South America and parts of Central America?"
"Yeah. We talked about it in biology."
"And what did you learn about it?"
Uh… crap, what did Dr. Phillips say? We were just talking about it a few days ago. OH!
"It's projected to spread exponentially into Mexico and parts of the South this season, especially in areas with high mosquito populations."
"That would be correct. There are currently two drugs in development for Dengue treatment, and both regimens are incredibly expensive. Most insurance providers won't cover them, and the disease could become a pandemic. Hizer pharmaceuticals developed the first vaccine for Dengue that has been approved by the FDA. It's projected to hit the market in less than a month and is expected to make enormous profits. However, the company is suspected of replacing the results with fraudulent data and altering the samples that were sent for testing. We need to procure samples of the untampered vaccine for resubmission to the FDA. I'm sure I don't have to explain the number of lives at stake if a fraudulent vaccine is released to the public."
"No," I exhale, feeling almost all the tension drain out of me. I was expecting the worst, but this mission is a good thing. It's not about hurting anyone, it's about protecting innocents from greedy corporations. I can do that, "What do I have to do?"
Slade gestures to the blueprints laid out and starts explaining.
"There's an offshoot utility building just inside the back gate. That's your entry point into the service corridor which runs beneath the entire building."
He outlines the path, making sure that I know what turns to make and where I need to go once I get into the actual building.
"The best entrance to the security office is through the ventilation system, which you'll access through the basement level supply closet. The surveillance system is on a closed network, so everything you do can be caught on camera until you directly access the hard drive. Once you disable the cameras and security measures, you're going to make your way up to the third-floor laboratories. The samples are in the cold room in the back of the lab, in a locked case."
He holds up a roll of fabric and sets it on the table near the blueprints. I look on in confusion while he unrolls it, but it turns out it's just a set of lockpicks.
"Make sure you are wearing gloves at all times. Do not leave any fingerprints. Do not break anything. Do not spill anything. If you are careless enough to spill anything, absolutely do not touch it. The lab is full of compounds that are highly corrosive, flammable and in some cases toxic. Be careful, do you understand?"
I nod. He rolls up the lockpicks and hands them to me. I tuck the roll into a pocket at my hip.
"If all goes according to plan, there's a fire escape at the north-side of the building on every floor. If that isn't an option, all but the central staircase lead to the ground floor. We'll adapt as necessary if the situation arises."
I hesitate, "Do you think it will?"
"If worst comes to absolute worst, your safety is a priority. I'll be in a position to intervene if it becomes absolutely necessary. Just focus on your mission. Understood?"
"Yes sir."
He leaves without another word and it takes me a second to realize I'm supposed to follow. I catch up to him back up in the garage, where he's loading equipment into a light grey van with a generic power company logo on the side.
"Gear check," he says without looking.
"What do I—"
"Is your armor on correctly?" Slade says slowly.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
My throat closes.
"Yes sir," I squeak.
"Projectiles?"
"Yes sir."
"Are your knives stored properly?"
I nod.
"Smoke grenades?"
I swallow, nodding while my hand goes to the protected pouch where the grenades should be.
"Um, Slade?"
"What."
"I don't have grenades."
"Correct. Let's go."
Something in my stomach unclenches, and I don't know if it's from relief that I didn't fuck up or if I'm glad he's not making me blow something up. Slade slides open the van door, loading up the last of the equipment and nods at the one of the seats. I throw my gear in and climb inside, then he hands me a stack of folders.
"Look over the blueprints until you've memorized them. The rest is to keep you busy. Buckle up, it's a long drive."
The van pulls to a stop and I look up, my heart pounding. We're parked in the middle of the road, but all I can see are trees in any direction.
"Where are we?"
"Two minutes out. Get your gear on," Slade pulls out a laptop and sets it up on the seat next to him. While I double check my arsenal and readjust my gear, he types lines of code, "I'll be monitoring the security network and tracking your progress while you're inside. Here. There's a pocket on the collar for the mic to fit into."
He hands me a black earpiece and a tiny round mic. I put the mic and earpiece in and look at Slade for confirmation.
"Test."
His voice is right in my ear and my stomach tightens.
"I can hear you."
"Good. Your mic is online. Are you ready?"
I take a deep breath.
"Yeah."
He closes his laptop, pulls a windbreaker over his uniform, and turns on the engine. The rest of the drive passes in an instant, and then the woods clear away to reveal a short driveway up to the Hizer property. The van pulls to a stop just inside the service entrance, blocking the security camera's view of the tiny utility building. Slade turns around, handing me a bump key and a matching hammer. I climb out the passenger side and head for the service door, pushing the key into the lock and pulling it out one notch before hitting it with the hammer. It takes two tries to get the lock pins to line up, but the door finally opens. I toss the devices back into the van. All the locks are specialized from here on out, so they're just empty weight.
"I'll be at the rendezvous point," Slade says over my earpiece. I nod and slip inside the building. The walls are lined with electrical boxes and pipes labeled "water" and "steam" run the length of the building. There's a hatch in the floor that leads to the service corridor.
I pull up the trapdoor and pause. Darkness. Electrical buzzing. Dust motes.
There's no one down there.
I climb down the ladder and pull a flashlight out of a side pocket. It's cold and light reflects back at me off all the metallic pipes and electrical cages lining the catwalk.
"This is creepy," I tell Slade, shuddering at the sound of my boots against the steel walkway.
"Three hundred feet. Wait for my signal when you reach it."
The buzzing from the generators is louder down here and the sound sends shivers up my spine. I miss the night-vision lenses in my mask. I miss my holocomputer. I miss being able to track the motion sensors and security feeds and knowing exactly where the bad guys are. I'm totally blind right now except for Slade's voice in my ear.
"Stop," Slade orders.
The corridor keeps going for at least another half mile, but to my right, there's a metal door.
"The supply closet is the fourth door on your left around the corner. There are no active guards on this floor, but the security cameras are all online. Use extreme caution."
I take a deep breath and push open the door. Bright light comes streaming in and my heart skips a beat. The hallways look exactly the same as the ones in Wayne Enterprises. For a second, I almost think I'm in the wrong building, but a directory hanging on the wall dispels that.
"Get moving!" Slade barks and I jump. I click off the flashlight and make my way around the corner, keeping my face turned away from the cameras. The closet is right where he said it would be, and the vent is on the far wall.
I climb over brooms and mop buckets and pull the grate off before climbing inside. Slade went over this part before, so he stays silent as I make my way through the maze of air ducts on memory alone. There's no vent big enough for me to fit through to get into the office, so I climb out the top of the ventilation shaft and into the actual ceiling. Wires and tubing run along the top, while the plaster tiles are thin between the sturdy support beams. I hold my breath as I lean over and pull out a tile.
It lifts out of the frame easily. I set it to the side and glance into the room. A lone security guard sits at her desk, absently reading a magazine in between glances at the security feeds on her computers.
"Knock her out," Slade orders over the com-link. Saying a silent apology to the poor guard who's just trying to do her job, I drop onto the carpet silently and creep along the back wall until I'm right behind her chair. I dart forward and hook my left arm around her neck. At the same time, my other hand locks onto the pressure points in her neck and upper back. She lets out a surprised yell but the grip only takes a second to knock her unconscious.
Guilt sinks through my stomach like a stone.
Grinding my teeth to stay focused, I push her swivel chair to the side and open the security system. I click on the icon for the cameras and a popup demands a password. God, I miss my computer gauntlets. I open up the computer code and start breaking through the encryption.
If Slade would just let me use a prewritten virus the system would already be unlocked. Instead, I have to sort through lines of code manually, break through firewalls and open backdoors in the system one at a time. Finally, I get access to the cameras and set all the input feeds on a loop and delete the footage of me walking through the hallways. Another wave of guilt rolls through my stomach. I push it aside and keep working.
All the laboratories have three passcode locks, and the interior storage has a voice-recognition code. With administrative access, I can send a ping through the system that will give me all the current passwords. The problem is, it will send a notification to everyone with administrative access that the request was sent, and they'll know they were hacked.
"You don't happen to know the passcodes, do you?" I ask Slade over the comm as my fingers fly across the keys, more to distract myself from the gnawing guilt in the pit of my stomach than any expectation that he'll actually have them. Shockingly, Slade doesn't answer. He definitely knows them, but he's going to make my life harder.
Asshole.
Overloading the encryption isn't working, so I decide to try something else. If the programmers used the right formats, it won't work, but sometimes programmers get lazy. I send a cascading request, that will send retrieval requests into the system, tying up the processor. It's basically the computer equivalent of asking for something until whoever you're talking to gets so fed up they give it to you to make you shut up… or at least, that's the basic idea. A string of numbers appears on screen and I can't stop the grin that spreads over my face. Perfect.
Now I just need the other two.
With the codes written on a paper safely stowed in a hidden compartment, I make my way upstairs. Slade doesn't say anything the entire time, but I can hear him typing on his laptop over my comm link. Knowing he's got control over the security cameras and intranet network makes me feel better about walking around in the open, but that also makes me feel so much worse. He's got access to the entire company. Everything they have. Anything they're working on. Company memos, private emails, confidential documents, he can take whatever he wants thanks to me hacking the system open. Does he even need the vaccine? Was that just a distraction the whole time?
"On your left. First door," Slade says, snapping me out of my trance. The lock takes about ten seconds to pick, and then I'm inside the Late-Stage Development Lab. The room is empty of people and full of neatly organized benches and fume hoods, which makes my life a lot easier because I don't have to navigate through a maze. The cold storage unit is in the back of the laboratory, behind half a dozen lab benches and giant ultracentrifuges that look like washing machines.
I thought a chemistry lab would be… I don't know, more evil-sciencey? I definitely didn't expect it to be so cluttered.
There are also a bunch of refrigerators lining the walls. Low-tech, grungy, ordinary fridges. I definitely wasn't expecting that. My curiosity itches, but I resist the urge to open one and look inside. The less stuff I touch, the better. The door to cold storage has a voice-operated lock, but apparently, they also use a regular old lock after-hours. I pull out my lockpicking set again.
Eighteen seconds. I'm getting slow, but I'm not going to tell Slade that.
"The voice-recognition lock is still online," I tell Slade.
"Hold your communicator to the mic," he orders. I pull it out of my ear and hold it up, and whatever Slade does works because the red light turns green and the lock disengages.
"There should be an insulated case on the lab bench next to the door."
"Got it," I say. I pull open the door to cold storage and a blast of freezing air shoots out. I flip the light switch next to the control panel. A bench is piled with transport containers, in case anything temperature sensitive needs to be moved between labs. There are eight locked shelving units arranged in rows.
"Where are the samples?"
"Open the first storage unit on the right," Slade says.
After a few seconds of fiddling with the lockpicks, it swings open.
"Okay."
"Look for a case marked with today's date and read the label to me."
I pull out the box with the right numbers and open it. There are three rows of tiny tubes stored in the case, neatly fit into holes so that only the raised cap is visible. Each of the twenty-four caps has the same printed line of numbers.
"Good. There should be three rows inside the case. Take one microfuge tube from each."
I open the transport case, and I see the same rows of holes, with cooling packs lining the interior. I move the three tubes and close the case, locking it tightly.
"Got it."
"That's all you need. The car is under the north-side fire escape. Don't let anyone see you."
Making it to the north-side utility door without being seen is easy. But when I try the door, but it won't open. Tugging on the handle doesn't help. At all.
"It's locked," I say, trying not to sound frantic. There's no lock to pick on this side, just a flat sheet of metal.
"What?" Slade asks. His voice is low, not betraying any emotions but I know shock when I hear it and if Slade is surprised, I'm screwed.
"It's locked!" I hiss, pulling the handle again.
"There's a side stairwell to your right that leads down to the loading dock. Those doors can't lock automatically. Be careful."
Okay. Don't panic. Don't panic.
I start moving again, heart pounding. The hallways is fully lit and I've never felt more exposed. Every shape out of the corner of my eye makes me jump, every sound—especially the steady beat of the air conditioning—sends another bead of sweat down my back. I can't get caught.
"Stop!" Slade orders, and I trip over myself mid-step. Before I can ask why, I realize that the air conditioner isn't running. Those are footsteps. My grip around the case tightens and I fight back the urge to start sprinting for the exit.
"Whoa, hey! Stay where you are!"
I whip around and my blood freezes. There's a security guard pointing a gun at me.
I don't think. One hand grabs the gun away while the other snaps his wrist back. I hit the magazine release with one hand and the bullets drop out. Then I swing the (disarmed) weapon into the guard's temple, dropping him to the ground like an anvil in The Loony Toons.
SHIT. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.
"What do I do?!"
"Keep going to the loading dock. There are going to be more guards. If you have to engage, take care of them as quickly as you can, understand?"
"When you say more guards, how many are you talking?"
"Move!"
Shit. He doesn't know.
I grab the case off the ground where I dropped it, throw open the stairwell door, and charge down two flights of stairs. I'm halfway down the third flight when the door flies open and a team of security guards charges into the stairwell, weapons drawn.
"There he is!"
"Stop!"
"Shit!" I pivot mid-step and charge through the nearest door. The team of guards is right behind me and I need to get somewhere that I have a chance to take them by surprise.
"Left!" Slade orders as I'm sprinting through an intersection, and my shoes skid on the ground as I change directions and run down a new hallway. The hallway opens up into a receptionist area with desks, chairs, tall bookshelves and a light switch.
"Thank you!" I hiss into my comm link as I hit the light switch and the room turns pitch black. I grab a stapler off the desk and duck behind it. Nine guards run in after me, flashlights at the ready. I pull out my bo staff and throw the stapler.
It hits one guard in the head and I jump out from behind the desk. The staff makes contact and drops the first guard while he doubles over from the headshot. Guards two and three go down quickly, and even four is an easy takedown even though she had a few more seconds to realize she was under attack. Five through nine are ready for me, and eight even managed to set off the alarms.
Five on one. Easy.
I really hope this company has good health insurance because I hit them hard. Not like it's bad enough that I'm breaking, entering and stealing, but now I also gave a bunch of people who were just doing their job concussions. I run for the stairwell again, and the alarms are really going off now. By the time I make it to the main part of the building, my ears are pounding from the noise.
"Get out now!" Slade orders with an unexpected urgency. I'm still a few turns from the exit point, and my heart is in my throat while I sprint. I turn the corner and head towards the bridge overlooking the enormous main lobby two floors below.
"I'm in the loading zone. Get outside and you're clear," Slade says as the door comes into view. I just have to cross the bridge and I'm out. A wave of relief crashes over me. Sixty feet to freedom.
I run for it.
A loud whistling sound pierces the air and an arrow lodges itself in the floor by my feet. I stop dead, partly from instinct and mostly from shock.
"Going somewhere?" a horribly familiar voice asks. The wave of relief becomes a typhoon of absolute panic. My throat closes and my legs turn to stone.
No.
No, this isn't happening.
Green Arrow steps out from behind a decorative pillar, putting himself firmly between me and the door.
"I didn't think so," he looks at me curiously, "Are you new? You look new. Interesting color scheme, especially since Halloween was last month."
NO.
I've never thought of Green Arrow as a threat before. He's always just been Uncle Ollie, the fun one who says stupid stuff to make people laugh. He's the one who pretends to get offended by something Mrs. Miriam says so Bruce and I can escape a party unnoticed. He's the one who lets the Justice League poke fun at him and laughs it all off. He's the one who's terrified to lose his son, the one who would do anything to get Roy talking to him again.
But now, he's never looked scarier.
The Green Arrow in his full glory is man armed with laser focus, perfect aim, and a military grade compound bow with enough drawing force to put a projectile though steel. He has decades of combat experience, an arsenal of trick arrows, and a huge size advantage over me. Worst of all, he was the one who taught Black Canary how to fight. And she can still kick my ass with her eyes closed. But right now, Green Arrow isn't just the threat standing in my way. He's the threat that can pull my entire world down around me if he beats me. Or worse… recognizes me.
And one-on-one this isn't a fight I can win.
I tighten my grip on the case, palms sweaty beneath my gloves. I can't even ask Slade for backup, because if I say anything, Ollie will recognize my voice. I'm just praying that Renegade's uniform is enough of a disguise he never puts it together.
"Any chance you want to do this the easy way? You give me that case, take a quick trip downtown and I make sure the judge knows this was just a misunderstanding, how does that sound?"
"Don't say anything," Slade says, like I needed any help to figure that one out.
"No? You sure?" the Emerald Archer asks.
What do I do? What the hell do I do?!
Green Arrow sighs and looks behind me as he says, "They never take the easy way, do they, Artemis?"
Artemis?! SHIT‼
I whirl around, expecting to see an arrow pointing at my face—expecting to see my friend aiming an arrow at me—but the hallway is empty.
Then something slams into me from behind, throwing me back and knocking the case out of my hands. The thing wraps around my arms and down my legs and I hit the ground. My arms are bound to my side by a bolo-arrow, almost the same kind as the ones Batman uses.
"That one gets 'em every time," Green Arrow laughs, "Sorry, kid. It's just me tonight."
He crosses the space between us and bends down to pick up the case.
"Hm…"
He clicks it open and looks inside, "You know, when most criminals are starting out, they go for valuables. Jewelry, money, that kind of thing. Art, if you're into that," he snaps the case shut and sets it back on the ground, "Not sure how stealing a commercial vaccine sample is going to make you any big bucks but it's your life, I guess."
He moves back towards me and I know I only have one chance. My hand closes around the knife in my waist compartment and I turn the blade up. I rip the knife up as hard as I can, pushing off the ground with the other hand, and miraculously, the blade cleaves through the bolo. How that worked, I have no idea, but it did and I can still get out of this mess.
Green Arrow reacts right away, reaching for his bow, but I don't give him a chance.
A knife is not my weapon of choice against him, but it'll take too long to switch it out for my bo staff. I dive towards him, slashing out with my right hand. He uses the bow like a staff and blocks my attack. My left hand grabs the bow and I duck under his strike, using my knife to slash through the drawstring.
"Hey!" Green Arrow shouts, and then his foot snaps up to kick me in the stomach. I stagger back, gasping for air loudly to distract him from the fact that we changed positions and the case is behind me now.
"Nice trick, kid," he glares at me, clutching his broken bow in his left hand. I'd feel worse if I didn't know he had another forty back in the Arrow cave. The case might be in reach, but he's still standing between me and the door. I don't have much time before backups shows, either more guards or the police and my window to escape closes.
My earpiece crackles as Slade says, "—smoke gre—ade—."
That's it. I just need to get one good hit in.
I rush forwards, bringing the knife down in a slashing motion. Green Arrow whips his bow into my hand, knocking the blade away. He steps through and swings the bow down at my legs. I bring up my leg and stomp down, holding the bow in place.
My right hand is burning from being smacked with the carbon-fiber bow, so I pull back my left fist and punch him right in the jaw. Before he can react, I sprint for the case and grab it in one hand while the other reaches for the pocket at my hip.
"Don't move," Green Arrow growls. His crossbow is loaded and aimed at my chest.
I raise my hands directly in front of my body, partially so he can't shoot anything out of my hand and partly so he can see what I'm holding. The case is clenched in my left hand, and in my right…
A grenade, with my thumb on the pin.
Green Arrow's eyes widen as he inches back. His hands start to raise.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey! You don't want to do that. You really don't want to do that, kid."
I move my thumb, just enough so that he can see, and his hands fly up.
"Okay! Look, I'm putting this down. Just take it easy."
He slowly sets the crossbow down on the ground, keeping eye contact with me while one hand stays out in front of him. He slides the crossbow along the ground, away from both of us.
He stands up again slowly, keeping his hands out in front of him. Slowly, I inch towards him, eyeing the door.
He glances back and shakes his head at me.
"If you try to run, we'll find you. Wherever you try to go, we can track you down. It's not too late to do the right thing, kid."
"The exit is compromised. Get out through the front," Slade orders over the earpiece and I stop walking.
Green Arrow notices, and too late, I see him looking at my ear.
"Whoever you're working for, you've gotta know it's not worth it. You're making a mistake," Green Arrow says, and suddenly I feel like laughing. Yeah, no shit Ollie.
I glance down at the lobby floor.
One shot.
I pull the pin and throw the smoke grenade. Green Arrow throws himself back, taking cover before the cloud of smoke erupts. At the same time, I run for the railing of the bridge and grab it with one hand, swinging myself down and letting go.
I fall ten feet and roll when I hit the bridge below. Then I take two steps and launch myself over that railing, falling to the lobby floor and sticking the landing. My boots absorb the blow, and I sprint for the door without checking to see if he's behind me.
I burst through the front door and sprint for the van waiting in front of the building, side door hanging open. I throw myself in and the second I touch the seat, Slade floors the gas. Tires squeal as the van tears out of the parking lot, through the gate and onto the main road.
"Stay down until I say so," he orders calmly as the van hurtles down the road towards the highway. My hands are shaking and my heart is pounding so hard inside my chest that it hurts. My body aches like I just sprinted a marathon and the guilt feels like getting hit by a freight train.
What does a heart attack feel like? It has to feel better than this.
I only realize I've been staring blankly out the van window when Slade pulls off the highway and cruises down a stretch of back roads through the woods. The van jerks to a stop and I jump.
"Stay here."
"Where are we?"
"At the drop," he turns around and holds out his hand, "Give me the case."
I look down and realize I still have a deathgrip around the handle of the storage case. I pry my fingers off and hand it over to him. When he takes it, I feel numb. Everything I did tonight was to get that case. I punched Uncle Ollie in the face and almost blew my cover for it. And now that Slade has it, it hits me that I don't even really know what it is or where it's going. Or who it's going to.
"Renegade! The plates," Slade snaps, and I jump out of my thoughts. He's pointing to a box next to me that flips open to reveal a set of matching Connecticut license plates. I hand them over and he nods at me, "This won't take long. Don't move."
He gets out of the van, taking the mystery case and the new plates with him and slamming the door shut behind him. Being alone in a getaway van, wearing the uniform I used to break into a building and assault about a dozen security guards and steal private property, and sitting in almost complete silence is too much to handle. What's Slade doing? What if this drop was a trap? What if the whole mission was a setup? What if Ollie recognized me and the League is on their way right now? Are we already doomed?
My heartbeat races, my palms sweat and my mouth feels dry. It's not a heart attack, but when all I can do is sit and think about everything that might be going wrong, I'm not that far from a full panic attack. Listening hard I can almost hear voices in the distance, and after a while I see a flash of headlights as another car turns and disappears into the night.
When Slade opens the door and climbs into the driver seat, I almost fall over with relief. He throws the old plates and the fake power company decals onto the seat next to me. Then he turns on the engine and before I know it, the disguised van is back on the highway headed back to Gotham City.
"…What did I do wrong? How did I mess up?"
If Slade is annoyed by the question, he doesn't show it. Instead, he shakes his head, "You did everything right. I'm very impressed. Sometimes things just get out of control and all you can do is improvise."
I should stop there. I shouldn't push my luck. Instead, the next question slips out.
"I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"
"No. The guards are all fine, just unconscious, and at worst you gave Arrow a black eye."
I let out a breath and it feels like a billion pounds lifted off my chest. Slade turns to look back at me and his mouth pinches into a thin line.
"Focus on bringing your heart rate down. I want it to sixty by the time we get back."
I take a deep breath and nod.
Just breathe in and out.
I can do that.
When we pull into the garage, Slade turns the car off. I follow him into the Haunt, exhaustion creeping in. Was it really six hours ago that I was in Pittsburgh with the Team? The exhilaration of completing a covert mission is totally gone, replaced by dread and guilt.
Slade pauses when we step through the office door.
"I know you're exhausted, so we'll go over your performance in more detail next time. For now, good work. Get changed and go home. If you want to sleep here, I'll send a text to Wayne for you."
"No! No thank you!" I stumble over the words. Before I can make my escape, my mouth decides to let out a face splitting yawn. Slade gives me a look and crosses his arms. My stomach sinks.
"Go to bed."
"No! I'm fine to go home!"
"I'm not asking," Slade orders, his tone dark. Goosebumps erupt down my spine, "In the morning, you can drive yourself to Barbara's apartment and ride the bus to school with her."
My feet freeze, a thousand and one protests on the tip of my tongue, but my mouth is glued shut.
"Now."
"But—" My voice cuts off as soon as it starts when Slade glares at me and my entire body goes cold. At my sides, my hands are shaking and my throat suddenly feels drier than the air in the Arctic Circle.
"You did very well tonight, so I would prefer not to have to punish you for disobedience, especially when you know better. Don't you, Renegade?"
His voice constricts around my chest like a snake, squeezing my lungs and making my heart pound. My palms are sweaty and it's a sudden, horrible reminder that terror is a physical thing that holds you in place while your imagination starts screaming all the most horrible things it can come up with.
"Yes sir," My voice shakes.
"Give me your phone," he orders.
"I… I can't."
The temperature of the room drops five degrees.
"What did you say?"
"I… I don't have it," I say slowly, fighting to get the words out through the waves of terror.
"You don't have it," Slade repeats. Disbelief colors his every word and that's as bad as if I had actually lied to him, "Don't move."
With the way my entire body freezes, I couldn't disobey even if I wanted to. He strides over to the other side of the room and picks up my backpack, roughly digging through the pockets and opening compartments in a furious search. He pulls folders full of notes and homework out and slams them onto the desk with a loud "whap!" My notebooks follow, then my pencil cases, then my disguised utility belt from the bottom compartment, then my headphones and wallet and all the various junk and debris I've assembled. I watch in terror while he rips through it, and for all that it's an invasion of privacy, he doesn't care about anything he's pulled out so far. He throws the backpack to the ground with a frustrated growl and turns on me. I flinch back violently, heart pounding.
"Where is it?"
"It broke! In the cave, right after you texted me! It's completely busted so I left it at home!" the words rush out of my mouth.
"And how exactly did it break?"
"I used the self-destruct to wipe my phone. Wolf started going crazy when I was leaving and snapped it in half."
I swallow hard, eyes glued to the ground. When I finally look up, Slade is watching me with an unreadable look on his face.
"If it was broken already, why wipe the data?"
"What?" my stomach free-falls. Shit, what did I say? What secret did I just let out?
"If Superboy's venom-inflated mongrel already destroyed your phone, why did you bother to wipe it?"
"I— well it was—"
"Stop."
My voice cuts off as my throat decides to snap shut.
"Don't give me any more excuses. Why did you wipe your phone?"
"Wolf jumped on me and grabbed my phone! He was on top of me and my phone was open and every text you sent me was on it and wide open for the entire League to see! They almost saw!" My voice is rising to a panicked frenzy and the words keep spilling out, "If I didn't wipe my phone, they would've found out! Everyone! I didn't have a choice!"
Slade doesn't say anything. The only sound is the computer fan humming in the corner and the Haunt's ventilation. And my heartbeat.
"How did you destroy your phone?"
I hesitate.
"Well?" Slade prompts mockingly.
"Internal self-destruct code on some models of the latest WayneTech phone. It wipes the hard drive and all data beyond recovery."
"What's the code?"
"I only know mine. Wayne Tech Override, RG8 ISD Activate… the codes don't officially exist, they're just for testing purposes. And emergencies. Slade, please, you asked me so I told you, but please don't… don't use it. If it gets out that the codes exist, it'll be bad! Really bad!"
Instead of answering, Slade takes a step forward to invade my personal space. I force myself to stay still even though every instinct I have screams, "RUN!"
"Richard…" Slade reaches for the corner of my mask and pulls it off slowly. I wince as he rips the glue off my skin, but Slade doesn't care if it hurts. He tosses the domino mask on his desk and stares down at me. Wearing a black and orange uniform is bad enough, but without a mask I feel completely naked, "You are not in a position to be making requests of any kind. Do you understand?"
That's a threat! Back off, right now! I force back any protests and stare at the ground.
"Yes sir."
"Good. Tell me, Richard, why do I ask you questions?"
"To… see what I know?"
"No, Richard. I ask you questions because I want an honest, concise answer, which I know you're capable of giving me. If you ever try to withhold something from me again, you will regret it every single day for the rest of your life. This is your only warning."
"I won't!"
"Correct. Now go to bed."
Dinah Lance
The Watchtower
Friday, November 9th, 2012
"Recognized: Green Arrow, A-08."
Dinah looked up as the Watchtower announced Green Arrow's return.
"Hey Ollie," she grinned, "How was Star?"
"Shitty," the archer spat, making his way into the Monitor Room. Dinah rolled her eyes at his dramatics.
"Aw, I'm sure it wasn't that bad," she turned around and immediately dropped her tablet, "Shit, Ollie! What the hell happened?!"
Oliver grimaced. The right side of his face was covered in black bruises, stretching from his jaw up to the underside of his eye. Blood dribbled down the side of his chin from a cut on his jaw.
"Some twerp broke my bow," he threw the offending item on the ground angrily, and Dinah winced when she saw the drawstring had been severed in half. Ollie loved that bow.
"Anyone I know?" she asked.
"Been to any Halloween parties lately?" Ollie snapped. He deflated when Dinah glared at him, "Nah, I didn't recognize him. All black suit, big orange spot on the chest, domino mask but spikier. Probably sixteen. Maybe older."
"Sixteen?! Ollie, you got…" she gestured to the face decorating his bruise, "By a sixteen-year-old?"
"In my defense, he hit like a fucking truck. He's got to be a meta. I had him in a bolo and he cut through it like it was spaghetti. He jumped two stories and hit the ground running. And he broke my bow!"
"Did he give you a name?"
"He didn't say anything. But he's not working alone."
"Why do you say that?"
"He was wearing an earpiece. Someone else was pulling the strings, or at least acting as lookout. And he had a getaway driver ready."
"So, we might be dealing with a new gang of teenage metahuman criminals?"
"Better than teenage mutant ninja turtles," Ollie sighed defeatedly, leaning against the console.
"What were they after?"
"It was at the Hizer R&D labs. They got away with a case. It had three of those micro-sciencey tube things, but I have no idea what was in them."
"Surveillance footage?"
"Wiped. They got into the system before the security guards called in a disturbance."
"Did you get anything?"
"He left this before he faked me out with a smoke grenade and got away," Ollie dug through his quiver and pulled out an evidence bag. Inside was a knife, cut to a wickedly sharp point with a gleaming edge, "We'll have Barry dust it for prints and see if Bruce can track the owner."
Dinah nodded.
"Alright."
Ollie rubbed his bruised cheek, then pushed himself up to go stare out the Monitor Womb windows, letting himself get lost in the view of literal space. Dinah felt her face pull down into a frown while a heaviness settled into her chest.
"Ollie, are you okay?"
"What? No, it just… you know I hate this biological weaponry. Give me an army of gorillas attacking the UN, no problem. But someone steals experimental chemicals to start a plague? I can't imagine how you can do that to other people. It just messes with me."
"Hopefully, that's not what we're dealing with. The report just came back from Hizer security. The lab that got hit is running final tests of their Dengue medication. Our thief made off with three samples of the vaccine," Clark announced as he entered the Watchtower, Diana right beside him.
"All of the security staff that tried to stop the thief were incapacitated," Diana added, "Nothing fatal, but two of them were hospitalized. Whoever was responsible was determined to leave with the vaccine samples, nothing else."
Ollie and Dinah looked at each other.
"Are they trying to reverse engineer it?" Dinah asked.
"The vaccine is scheduled to be brought to market in a few months. It's not enough time to copy the formula and start competitive production before it goes public. Although you never know with big pharma."
"Of course, that's assuming this was corporate-sponsored. And how many corporations hire teenage metas to do their dirty work?"
"I can name one right off the bat," Clark glowered.
"Could be Luthor," Ollie shrugged, scrubbing his face with his hand, "Either way, this is a fucking mess. I hate when new faces show up."
"You don't think it was Luthor?" Diana asked.
"Sixteen to eighteen-year-old probable meta, very well trained, working with unknown partners," Dinah summarized. Clark scowled and Diana frowned.
"I agree that hiring children, particularly ones of unknown skill, is a break from Luthor's usual patterns."
"We'll try and put together a profile. Go back over security footage, see if we can figure out any major players who were involved, try to find a connection between the kid and Hizer," Clark said, "In the meantime, I'll look into this Dengue vaccine and see if there's anything the pharmacists aren't telling us."
"Good. The sooner we deal with this the better," Ollie frowned. He prodded the bruise on his face and winced again. Dinah resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him, but she did bring her hand up to stop him from poking himself any more.
"How was the rest of the party?" she asked, thinking that it was as good a time as any to change the subject.
"The party? It went well, that was a very good idea. I think the extra encouragement didn't hurt them. There was a slight incident with Wolf when Robin left."
"What happened?"
"Apparently, Wolf was aggravated by Robin's phone going off and jumped on him."
"What?!" Ollie demanded.
"Was he okay?" Dinah asked.
"He was fine," Clark assured her.
"His phone wasn't," Diana interjected.
"That doesn't make any sense. Wolf has never done anything like that before!" Dinah shook her head, but as soon as she said the words, her mind was racing.
"That's what the Team said," Diana answered.
"You don't think…"
"What?"
Dinah looked at the other three Leaguers, biting her lip while she tried to decide whether or not she should say it. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? But there was so much that didn't add up.
"Dinah?"
Dinah sighed.
"It seems like every time something happens that doesn't quite add up, it's always about him."
"Are you serious?!" Ollie exclaimed. Clark and Diana exchanged a long glance that Dinah couldn't quite read.
"This isn't just about Wolf's strange behavior, is it?" Clark asked.
"No," Dinah sighed, "I'm just concerned that… there's so much that doesn't make sense. Robin is improving so much faster than any of his teammates, and he's had some drastic personality changes lately. He's late without explanation and runs out on the flimsiest excuses. You can't tell me that's not suspicious."
She held her breath, waiting for Superman or Wonder Woman to leap to the Boy Wonder's defense, but there was silence. They were looking at each other, brows furrowed and Clark's mouth was thinned into a tight line. Finally, Diana spoke.
"If you've noticed it… I think it might be time for you to talk to Bruce."
"Oh boy," Ollie muttered, "It was nice knowing you, Di."
Wally West
Red Arrow's Preferred Secure Location
Friday, November 9th, 2012
"Uh… Roy? Is this the right place? Roy? You said you found something?"
"You're welcome," Roy said, appearing out of nowhere.
"Holy shit, Roy!" Wally shouted, jumping a full foot into the air. Roy crossed his arms over his chest and grinned smugly.
"You asked for my help, remember? That means doing it my way."
"Your way includes giving me a freaking heart attack?!"
"Eh, you're young. You'll live. Here."
Wally caught the drive Roy tossed him.
"What is it?"
"A flash drive. You plug it into a computer—"
"I hate you."
"Sure you do. As far as that favor you asked for goes, you're in luck. Long story short, Deadshot's been in Central a lot lately. Nothing that big, just some small henching jobs. If you want to find your killer, I'd start with him."
"What about the others?"
"Deadline's out of commission. He's been in lockup in Sacramento since May. Deathstroke's been pretty quiet lately, but I tracked down a source that says he's been taking jobs for Luthor and some other big names here and there."
"For Luthor? That's gotta be suspicious, right?"
"Suspicious? Definitely. But relevant to your Central City case… not so much."
"What else have you heard about him?"
"Deadshot?"
"No, Deathstroke. I've got a feeling about him."
Roy shook his head and rolled his eyes in the same motion.
"Going off ridiculous hunches and ignoring any actual advice. You're definitely going to win your bet."
"Roy, I'm serious. I just have this feeling that there's something going on that I need to know. Please, if you know anything else about him, I need to know!"
Roy stared at him. Wally was suddenly hyper-aware of how heavily he was breathing and how crazy he must look. There had to be a way to make Roy understand how important this was! Dick's life was literally on the line!
"You're something else, Wals, you know that?"
"So you can't help me?"
"I didn't say that," Roy grinned, "But you can't ask how I found it."
"Done," Wally said instantly.
"The Terminator just took a contract in Lisbon from Moreau."
"Who?"
"Damien Moreau. He's an international smuggler. Art, antiques, money, drugs, weapons, art, nuclear materials, people, and just about anything else you can think of. He's bad, and the people that work for him are worse."
A contract in another country for a high-profile international criminal? For a few seconds, Wally could only stare. That was beyond perfect.
"What do you know about the contract?"
"The only thing I found was an address. But Wally, if you're going to make a move, you have to do it soon. Deathstroke moves fast and nobody's sure where he is right now."
"Thanks Roy. I owe you five."
"You owe me a lot more than five at this point," Roy snorted, "Just one more thing."
"What?"
"Promise me you'll be careful. You can't take these guys lightly."
"I won't. I promise."
AN: Poor Green Arrow, but at least the League knows about this new black and orange menace. I wonder how long it'll take them to put the clues together... and what will it mean for Wally's plan? How much longer is Dick going to be able to keep his secret hidden?