Chapter 16 - "Playing With Fire"

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

The gunshots sounded in the night as the bullets tore through the car's windshield. Montoya was hunched down behind the car, gripping her right bicep. She peeled her hand away and saw the layer of slick crimson coating her palm.

She had been shot while scrambling from the vehicle. When she fell, Fletcher had rushed to her side and he was hit. Now, he was down behind the car. He wasn't moving, aside from the occasional heave of air pumping through his chest. At least he was alive.

Montoya turned around and squeezed the trigger, sending shots flying through the air. Another shot came at her, cracking a dent into the hull of the car. She ducked back down and breathed heavily. Things were not looking good.

The other car that had been on the stakeout with her and Fletcher was actually the first target of the shooters. When she had crawled for cover, Montoya looked to the cruiser. Once she saw the blood splatters on the windows and no other movement, she knew what the officers' fate was.

While she fired, Montoya heard the revving of an engine behind her as tires squealed on the cement. Then, the telltale siren wails filled the air. A hint of a smile—of relief—pulled at her lips. Backup had arrived!

The cruiser tore into the parking lot, and the doors flung open. An officer crawled from each side, and immediately they started to fire. One of them called out, "Montoya! Are you all right?"

"I've been hit, and so is Fletch!" she yelled back, and the officer nodded.

"Hang tight—backup's on the way."

Gordon had to quickly make the arrangements to get the Titan Movement to the scene of the shooting. Of course, Jemima was ordered to stay at the complex, which she had planned on anyways. Lucius Fox was going to help her get a rundown of the technology in the Movement's command center, which was a renovated wing of rooms for various meetings, conferences, and briefings.

Hill, Dent, and Reeves were in a conference; Gordon figured as much, a fight wasn't really their place.

"Bullock, prepare a SWAT fireteam. Sounds like a real fight's going on down there," Gordon ordered, and Bullock took off down the corridor to carry out the Commissioner's commands. Gordon turned back to see the other thirteen members of his new team, who were all watching him.

"So, how exactly are we gonna do this? Are you driving? Do we each drive? What?" Sean asked, crossing his arms.

"If you've got your own vehicles, you can drive, carpool, whatever. Just get to Ace Chemicals pronto. I need to secure a few things with Bullock before I head out there."

"Then what're we waiting for?" John said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's get out there."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "You're Irish too, huh? All right, I'm calling it—our team color should be green."

Gordon shook his head, and muttered, "We don't have a team color."

"We'll sort out the team color later, all right, boys?" Annalise cut in, putting a hand between Sean and John. "Right now we have more important things to do. Now let's go!"

She took off, leaving John and Sean to watch her leave before exchanging a glance. "Who does she think she is, our mother?" Sean retorted before he and John followed behind.

Spencer and Aria moved slowly, and Spencer placed a hand on Aria's shoulder. "Aria, are you sure—"

"Yes, Dad, I am." Aria turned and smiled at him. "I'll be all right. With all the others, why would they focus their attention on me? I'm a much smaller target."

"But still—" Spencer started before Gordon walked up and cut him off.

"She'll be fine, Spencer."

At that moment, Clyde walked up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—she's going on missions? She's just a kid, and she's got that cane."

"How'd you like me to shove this cane up your—"

"Aria!" Spencer cut her off, before Gordon sighed.

"Look, Darby, she'll be able to take care of herself." With a little chuckle and a knowing glance to Aria, he added, "She probably could take you on."

Clyde eyed her warily, then let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah . . . sure. Well, ma'am," he started, turning on the southern charm full-throttle, "could I be so generous as to offer you a ride?" As he finished, he gave a tip of his hat.

Aria held back from laughing at his country-boy persona. "Sure." She turned and gave Spencer a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll be all right, Dad. You'll see."

She then started to move along, using the cane to walk, as Clyde followed close by her side. Clyde turned and caught sight of Matt moving for the door as well, about a dozen feet ahead of him. "Hey, kid—you need a ride too?"

Matt looked to Clyde, and then to Aria. "Actually—I have a ride. Thanks for the offer though." He quickly burst out the door, and Clyde gave a slight chuckle. Once they got on the street, though, Matt was gone.

"What in . . . Didn't he just walk out this door?" Aria gave a short nod as Clyde scratched under his hat. "Huh. That's weird."

As they left, Gordon patted Spencer on the shoulder. "She'll be all right, Spence."

Spencer slowly nodded. "I know. But it's hard . . . letting her go off like this."

"I know the feeling. If I told Barbara I was chairman of something like this, she'd probably be nagging me about it every minute of the day. That girl's obsessed with fighting crime."

Further down the hallway, Vermin stood in silence, glancing about as if she had nowhere to go. Cautiously, Mia approached her. Emily was following close behind; Mia had invited Emily to ride with her, and she had agreed. Now, Mia was going to try and see if Vermin would ride with them too.

"Hey—you need a ride?" she asked, brushing a loose red curl from her eyes.

Vermin sniggered. "I guess so. I haven't been in a car in who knows how long. I've mostly traveled by foot."

Mia gestured to the door. "Come on. You too, Emily." The three took off for the doorway, busting out and rushing for Mia's sedan. Already, Sean had taken off in his car, and Clyde had followed with Aria. Annalise and John were climbing atop their motorcycles, and Romero was beside his. Nansi made it to the parked bikes last, where her Ducati Scrambler was parked.

When she walked up, Romero glanced up. As silence filled the air while she moved to her bike, Romero snapped, "Hey—Nansi, right?"

Nansi looked to him, her head snapping quickly, as if she wasn't aware he was there. "What? Oh, yeah—Nansi. Romero?"

Romero grinned. "Yeah. Nice bike."

A slight grin cracked Nansi's lips. "Thanks."

John and Annalise, noticing the awkward exchange, shared a glance before John said, "Y'know, people might see us all taking off and think we're some kind of biker gang."

"A biker gang?" Annalise said with a laugh. "Tell me, do we look like bikers?"

John chuckled. "No. Not especially."

The four climbed on their bikes and followed behind Sean, Clyde, and Mia's cars, flying down the Gotham roadway.

Dante was speaking with Gordon as he was moving for the exit. "A quick question, Jim: how exactly are we going to keep things . . . low-profile? A team of fourteen people with superpowers waging war with the crime syndicates—it doesn't scream subtle to me."

"I know what you mean," Gordon said, shaking his head. "Mayor Hill's supposed to make some kind of addressal to covertly 'announce' the Movement, but I have a feeling people may know about it before then, if things get loud tonight."

Dante opened the door and laughed. "Trust me—they will."

He exited the building and ran for his VW Bug, leaving the last member of the Titan Movement to step away from the shadows. Alex Mercer—better known as Renegade to his teammates—reached to his utility belt and withdrew a grapple, firing it to the top of a building. As he landed, he activated his earpiece and said, "So, did you get everything?"

"Sure did," Scarlet answered on the other end. "I knew that the GCPD didn't have the most secure computer system, but you'd think the one in their super-secret conference room would be locked down pretty tight."

"You just can't be beat, Scarlet," he replied, grinning. He fired his grapple again, arcing around a building and landing on a low-hanging rooftop. "You're gonna have to give me a layout of Ace Chemicals. What's the best vantage point?"

"There's a guard tower that overlooks the parking lot. That should be your best place."

"All right. I'll let you know how it goes."

"Okay. Alex . . . just be careful, okay?"

Alex smiled slightly. "You know me, Scar."

"I know, that's why I said it."

Alex laughed lightly. "I give you my word: I'll be careful."

Matt had shadow-walked from the GCPD complex to the Ace Chemicals warehouse once he stepped outside. But one look at him wouldn't have caused you to think it was the same young, blond kid from the meeting at the HQ.

When Matt used his powers, his entire body was shrouded in darkness—nothing was visible but the outline of his nose, meaning his mouth, eyes, hair, all of it was gone. He just looked like a black shadow, albeit dressed in a maroon dress shirt, with a black business suit, shoes, and gloves.

Matt sat in the shadows of the Ace Chemicals watchtower, biding his time. The guard there, a big, burly guy, would occasionally crackle his radio to life, sending a report to someone who was located elsewhere. Matt was waiting for the opportune time to strike.

The guy shifted, and his thickly accented voice said, "No, nothing yet. Looks like their backup's a no-show." The accent was the giveaway that Matt needed to reveal the guy as one of Falcone's thugs. "Heh," the guard laughed. "We'll kill 'em all when they get here. Just you wait."

As the radio sputtered into silence, the guard let out a deep sigh. Matt knew now was the time to strike.

He faded away into the night, shifting into the shadows within the watchtower, directly behind the guard. Reaching out with his mind, Matt gazed at the guard's radio. Suddenly, it began to spark and shattered in a burst of electric energy.

"What the—?!" the guy yelled as the radio blew into a bundle of energy, shocking him. As he shrugged the wreckage of the radio aside, Matt took his opening.

First, one black appendage—almost like a tentacle—rose from the darkness, made of pure dark energy itself. It groped towards the guard as a second one followed close behind. As the guy kicked aside the pile of scrap parts, muttering about the possibilities behind its malfunctioning, one tentacle snapped around his face, acting as a gag as it wound itself around his face.

As the man's muffled screams sounded, the second tentacle shot out and grabbed the man's waist, and the two tore mightily. The muffled noises continued as the man disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind only the sounds of the sickening snapping of bone and flesh as he was torn apart in the darkness.

His work done, Matt stepped from the shadows, looking about with composure. He stepped onto the overhang of the watchtower, eyeing the carnage below. He could see the flares of light from gunfire, as the shots pocked two police cars near the entrance to the lot. No one was firing at the third vehicle; Matt could guess why.

As Matt watched, he heard the snapping of metal behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see a figure coming over the railing—it was a figure clad in black Kevlar armor with a red bat symbol on his chest and a red mask over his face.

Renegade.

"Who are you?" Renegade asked, hand lingering over a revolver at his hip.

"Don't worry. It's me. Matt Kattegat."

Renegade slowly nodded as he dropped to his feet. He glanced about, then said, "Were there no guards?"

"One."

A pause. "Where is he?"

"He's . . . taken care of."

Renegade continued to look around. "There's no body. . . ."

"I said he's taken care of."

Renegade slowly nodded. Obviously, he was a bit put-off by Matt's personality. He seemed a little . . . off. Different from the happy-go-lucky, boyish personality he normally exhibited.

"The others here?" he asked, stepping to Matt's side. Matt shook his head, and then a BOOM sounded near the parking lot entrance.

"Never mind. I think they're here now."

Renegade and Matt glanced to the entrance, where Romero gunned his motorbike into the lot. Two guns strapped to the side of his bike were firing, forcing the figures mounted across the lot to scatter for cover. When they moved, Matt saw them.

"I see them." He pointed to a ridge atop a warehouse. "Right there. Some are going for the staircase that leads inside."

"Let's go prevent them from pulling of an escape," Renegade said. Matt nodded.

"Sounds like a plan."

Romero spun to a stop, jumping from his bike as he crouched down behind the police car where two injured cops were hunched down.

"Who are you guys?" a female cop asked, clutching her injured arm as she eyed the four newcomers climbing from their motorcycles.

"Gordon sent us," Annalise answered for Romero. She took more care with her bike, settling it down easily. John and Nansi disembarked from their bikes as they crouched down. "We're his little Titan Movement."

The cop nodded. "I was wondering who our backup would be. Name's Montoya," she said, turning back around. "So . . . what do you guys do?"

Annalise nearly opened her mouth to answer before a quizzical look appeared on her face, and she glanced at John. He arched an eyebrow before he slowly said, "Um . . . honestly, we didn't talk about that part." He glanced to Romero and prodded, "What do you do?"

Romero let out a wary laugh. "Trust me, I don't think you wanna know."

More gunfire came from the warehouse. The gathering ducked down, and it was then that Annalise saw Fletcher, who was starting to stir. "What happened to him?" she asked.

"He got shot," Montoya muttered as Romero crept past her, aiming a pistol he had drawn. He quickly fired off a volley of shots.

Romero glanced over his shoulder to John, Annalise, and Nansi. "Do you guys have guns, or am I the only one?" The others all shrugged, and Romero sighed. "Great. Just great."

"If you want me to deal damage, I'm gonna have to get in close," Nansi finally said. It was the first time she had spoken since arriving, and it caused the others to look at her as if they forgot she was there. "I'm . . . more close-quarters friendly."

"Me too," Annalise cut in.

"Same." John moved towards them, then cast a glance at Romero. "Do you think you can cover for us?"

Romero grinned as he drew a clip from his belt. "Just give me a sec to reload."

As Romero loaded his pistol, Sean's car sped past the police car at the entrance. Dante's Bug, Clyde's sedan, and Mia's sedan all followed close behind, just at a much slower pace. Sean swung his car so it was parked parallel to the warehouse and he slowly got out, eyeing the warehouse as he cocked his pistol.

Annalise, John, and Nansi ran towards the warehouse as Romero kept firing, providing cover. He finally got up to go before Montoya stirred and the two cops at the backup car moved towards her. "Who are these guys?" one of them asked as he knelt by her to offer help.

Montoya shook her head. "I have no clue. But let's hope Gordon got the right bunch."

As Sean raised his pistol, Annalise, John, Nansi, and Romero arrived. The others all unloaded from their vehicles while Annalise strode up and planted her hands on her full hips, adopting a commanding posture. "What was that? You sped in here like Custer in his last stand. If you keep it up, you'll wind up like him too."

Sean offered up his usual grin. "Calm down, sweetheart. I only make dramatic entrances; when I clear a place, I do it carefully."

Annalise rolled her eyes at his flamboyance as she nodded to Clyde. She flashed him a smile. "Good sir, would you like take point?"

Clyde tipped his hat. "With pleasure, ma'am. And please—it's Cly."

As he stepped towards the door, Emily glanced around cautiously. "Um . . . who's gonna watch the roof?"

Dante glanced up and a grin cracked his face. "I think that's taken care of." The others looked to see Renegade's silhouette grapple to the roof.

"Batboy's going on the roof alone?" Romero said, smirking. "He's got more guts than I thought."

"Or less brain," Mia retorted.

Suddenly, a boom sounded from the window above, and glass sprinkled across the parking lot as gunfire flared. "Take cover!" Cly yelled, squeezing the trigger on his Glock. The others with guns drew them and fired while they all rushed for the entry to the warehouse.

They all stopped short and Dante wiggled the door handle. "Locked," he hissed, glancing to the others. "Anyone got a lockpick?"

"I know how to use one," Romero said, "but I've got none on me."

John smiled. "Give me just a sec." He held his hands together and closed his eyes, deepening into thought as frost blew from his mouth. Suddenly, appearing in his hands, was a lockpick—made of solid ice.

"Did you just . . . make that? Out of ice?" Dante questioned. He was obviously intrigued; he was an alchemist of course, but being able to summon ice to create objects?

"Yeah," John said with a grin.

"So that's what you do, huh? Make little ice sculptures?" Clyde asked, his own sarcastic smirk adorning his face.

"Among other things." Annalise eyed John curiously as he passed the ice lockpick off to Romero, who crept down by the door and started to twist it inside to find the tumblers. There was something more to him . . . something Annalise could almost feel.

As Romero fiddled with the lock, the gunfire stopped from up above. Mia, who had been keeping her pistol aimed at the area, glanced over her shoulder. "They've stopped firing," she muttered. "That lock almost open?"

"Give me . . . just a second," Romero got out between gritted teeth. Finally, the lock snapped and the doors slowly flew open. "Here you go," he added, holding the pick out to John.

John grinned and said, "I don't need it back," as the pick dissolved into a wisp of mist and frost. John entered first, followed by Annalise. The others slowly funneled inside, one by one.

"They could be anywhere, so watch yourselves," Aria commented. The others cautiously looked around, and Sean pointed to a staircase.

"Here's one way up," he said, and Vermin gestured to another.

"I'll go this way." She sniffed, then added, "I can smell them up there." Vermin quickly darted for the stairs, hurrying up.

Cly shook his head with disgust. "Does that thing give anyone else the creeps, or is it just me?"

"She's a girl, not a thing." Annalise huffed as she started for the stairs. "I'll go with her. Sean, Mia, Dante, and Romero, come with me. The others, you all go up the other staircase."

"Yes, ma'am," Sean said with a cheeky grin as he led the way behind Annalise up the stairs. The others quickly followed behind.

Clyde turned and surveyed the group with him. Cockily, he said, "Looks like I'm in charge. Follow me."

John laughed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—who said you were in charge?" Then, he brushed past Clyde and ran up the stairs. Clyde stepped up again, before Nansi cut him off. The same process followed with Emily. Clyde started again before Aria started moving, and he sighed.

"Go on," he reluctantly grumbled, bringing up the rear.

On the rooftop, one of the two guys was peeking over the lip of the roof before he grumbled, "Where'd they go? We're missing all the fun."

The other guard snorted. "Just be glad we aren't the ones getting shot."

Before another word could be uttered, a dark figure appeared on the ledge. "Who's that?" one of the guards spat, and the other answered by drawing his firearm and firing.

The figure leapt over and dodged the shot before he drew dual revolvers from his hips. He squeezed the triggers repeatedly, and the shots hit both guards—but only incapacitated them. The bullets were made of rubber.

One of the men yelled in anger and charged at the figure, picking up a crowbar. The figure holstered both guns and his hands returned, this time grasping a bo-staff. The figure ducked the man's first attack and slammed the end of the rod into the man's gut. He spun the staff around, cracking it across the man's skull.

The other guy aimed his weapon and waited until his friend was out of the way. But he never got his shot; out of the dark sprang two tentacles that wrapped around his ankles. The man screamed and fell to the deck, and he was turned around and slowly pulled into the darkness. "No . . . no . . . nooooooo!"

Renegade lowered his staff once his man was down, turning to the source of the scream. His face watched in a mix of awe and disgust as Matt stepped out of the dark. "Did you just . . . kill him?"

Matt shrugged. "I did what had to be done."

Renegade shuddered as he moved towards the door into the warehouse. Matt opened the door and gestured inside. "After you."

John rounded a corner and ran right into a big thug. The guy turned, his breath stench like the smell of rotten fish and his body covered in all sorts of ghastly tattoos.

John backed into the others behind him. Cly let out a nervous laugh. "You . . . uh . . . got any other powers there, John? Or do you just make up lockpicks for fun?"

John sniggered and whispered, "Just shut up and watch."

The big guy let out a snigger of his own as he cracked his big knuckles, and John responded by holding his right hand out to his side. Gradually, ice began to swirl until it clumped together into a solid rod, and then the clumps branched out before forming a long, sharp end.

It was a sword.

The big guy's eyes twitched and, before he could move, the sword flashed before his eyes and tore through his chest. The guy fell over against the floor. John strode past, and Cly stared, openmouthed.

The others moved past him, and then a shout came from the end of the hallway. Four more of Falcone's thugs spread out, one drawing a chrome pistol from his waistband. The others wielded an assortment of close-quarters weapons, from chains and knives to crowbars.

John turned and swung his sword in his hand before Aria stepped up. "Let me take care of these guys," she said. John glanced over and saw her mouth twitch up in a mischievous smile.

"Um . . . sure."

Aria stepped up before her allies, and she tossed her cane aside. She closed her eyes and pictured in her hands two different things. In her left hand, she saw a bow—the arm bones forming the main part of the bow, a piece of the intestine forming the string. In her right, she saw a twisted knife—some bone ground to a sharp, pointed end.

Then she opened her eyes. The bow was in her left hand, the knife in her right.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Cly watching her. His face was shriveled in disgust. "What?" she said, flashing a cheeky grin. "You've got 'em inside you, too."

Cly leaned over to John and whispered, "I think this girl has some problems."

"As long as she takes care of these guys," John replied, "I could care less."

The thugs at the end of the hallway seemed to be confused as well, unsure if this small teenage girl was an actual threat or just some practical joke.

Aria quickly answered their question. She snapped her arms up and drew an arrow back on the bow. She let it fly loose, and the shaft buried itself in the first guy's chest.

His allies drew back, amazed. Aria took her chance and charged ahead.

Even though her nervous system was in pain for the better part of the day, when she used her powers, Aria could move without feeling pain. She just had to do it with caution—she knew that the pain afterwards was gauged on her activity using the ability.

The guys turned back, and the one with the gun opened fire. She ducked and avoided the shot, and by that time was upon him. She slammed the knife into his throat, and he gurgled before blood spat from his mouth. Withdrawing the bone blade, Aria ducked a swing of another man's knife and plunged her own into his stomach.

The last guy raised his crowbar to attack, and Aria simply brought up her knife to block it. She then pictured another knife in her free hand and used it to skewer him in the belly.

Aria stood in the pile of dead bodies and the growing pool of blood. She huffed and puffed, turning to the others. She shrugged. "So, what'd you think?" She walked towards them, sending her knives back. Immediately as she did so, her legs grew weak—her entire body did. Then, she collapsed to the ground.

John, Cly, Emily, and Nansi rushed to her, and John dropped to his knees beside her. "Aria? Are you okay? What happened?"

Aria slowly glanced up. Weakly, she said, "I—I'm okay. Just . . . my re . . . coil . . . ."

"What're we going to do with her?" Emily asked, kneeling beside John. He sighed.

"I don't know. We can't just leave her."

Emily glanced up. "I'll stay with her."

"You sure? I'd imagine you would like to show off your own powers."

"Powers? What do you mean powers?" Cly asked, crossing his arms. "Do you all have superpowers or something?"

"I think that's pretty obvious, isn't it? Pretty much everyone here has powers."

"Well, not me," Cly said with a laugh. "I thought this was some vigilante gang, not a Batman fan club."

Emily ignored Cly's remarks. "It'll be okay. We'll have other missions." She nodded to Aria. "Right now, we need someone to take care of her. Shouldn't we have a motto or something—'No man left behind'?"

John grinned. "I like the way you think." He got to his feet. He turned to Nansi. "You lead on."

"Her? Why's she leading now, and not me?"

John thumped Cly on the arm. "You said yourself that you've got no powers. I wanna see what she's got. Now come on, let's go."

A/N: Hello everyone! Here's chapter 16, the beginning of the first exercise. I wanted to kind of use this first exercise to allow our characters to get to know one another, both personality and power wise. I'm liking the dynamics we've got between the characters! Next chapter should finish up the first exercise, and then give us some downtime to spend with the team while they aren't fighting. Anyone have any ideas for what they could do in their downtime? I'm open to suggestions! I hope you all liked this chapter, and I'll see you in the next one! Until next time.