Chapter 18 - "Riddles and Bats"

Romero entered the apartment to find Jace, Cathy, and Vince all lounging in the living room. Cathy and Jace were on the couch, and Vince was standing with his back against the doorframe.

The three stared at him as Romero slowly shut the door. "Um . . . hello," he greeted, a bit curious. None of them said a word. After about fifteen seconds of silence, Romero continued, "Am I supposed to say something else?"

Cathy snorted. "You aren't gonna tell us what happened?!" she exclaimed, and Romero grinned.

"I thought you all wanted to keep out of this?"

"No, we just elected you the spokesperson. We didn't say we wanted to stay in the blue," Jace countered, crossing his arms.

"That sounds fair," Romero remarked sarcastically. "All right, this is the short version: I'm part of a group of fourteen people—I think most of them have powers—that is supposed to be cleaning up the streets, namely Falcone, while Mr. Pointy-Ears is a no-show."

A few more seconds of silence passed before Vince prodded, "And . . . that was it?"

"Oh, yeah—we had our first mission too."

"A mission? Already?" Jace had uncrossed his arms and was leaning forward, intrigued.

"Yep. We had to go to Ace Chemicals—someone squealed that the cops were staking the place out, and Falcone staged an ambush. Killed two of 'em."

"And how did this little club of yours make out?"

"Killed a few. Captured a few. Mostly killed."

A grin split Vince's lips. "My kind of people."

Romero yawned—it was a little fake, but mostly real. He was tired. "I'll have to fill you guys in later. Running around and dodging bullets takes a lot out of you."

"All right," Cathy started, "but you aren't off the hook. You've gotta tell us everything tomorrow."

"I'll tell you as much as I can," Romero said, moving for his bedroom. "But it might have to be split up; we've got another meeting tomorrow afternoon."

"Already?" Jace asked.

Romero nodded. "Yup. So . . . if you all are staying up, please keep the noise down." He grinned. "I need my beauty sleep."

As he entered the bedroom, Vince grumbled, "You can say that again."

Aria finished rubbing the ointment on her arms. It began to soothe the sore nerves, the pain fleeing at the comfortable touch. She let out a light sigh as Spencer kept his eyes on her.

"I thought you agreed to be careful," he said sternly.

"I was careful," Aria countered. "I only used my powers for a little bit."

"But look at what it's done! Didn't you say you had to be carried to the ambulance?"

"Yes, Daddy—and I was able to walk away from the ambulance. I'll be fine. It's just something I'm gonna have to get used to."

Spencer sighed and shook his head. "I hope I don't regret telling you about this."

Aria reached over and squeezed his leg. "I promise you, I'll be fine. I'll use my powers in spurts. I won't overdo myself. And besides, the people on this team—I think I can trust them. For the most part."

Spencer grinned slightly. "I'm glad of that." He bent down and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, Aria."

She beamed at him. "Thanks. I'll see you in the morning."

As Spencer left the room, Aria pulled her cell phone out and flipped to her contacts. After tapping the picture of the person she wanted to talk to, she held the phone to her ear. "Hello?" a voice that sounded like it belonged to someone in desperate need of sleep said.

"Hi, Zach," Aria calmly replied.

"Aria! What're you doing up so late?"

"I'm actually in bed right now. But I just needed to tell you something." She bit her lip before saying, "I'm part of a superhero team."

It sounded a lot cheesier out loud than it did in her head.

A brief intermission followed before Zach let out a laugh. "What is this, Aria, some kind of joke?"

"It's no joke," Aria said firmly, trying to build up some backbone with her declaration. "Gotham's government worked with the federal government to put together something called the Titan Movement. I'm a part of it."

Zach still sounded skeptical, but at least he wasn't laughing. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Of course I am!"

"And Dad knows about this?"

"Sure. He's the one who told me about it."

"When did you join up?"

"Tonight. We had our first mission too."

"Did you get to use your superpowers?" Zach asked. Every time he said "superpowers," he used some extravagant tone of speech.

"Yes," Aria said slowly. "And . . . I killed a guy."

Silence was Zach's answer.

"Zach . . .?" Aria prodded.

"Yeah, yeah . . . I'm here. Wow. You . . . you mean you literally killed him? Like . . . took his life?"

"That is, like, the only definition of kill that I know," Aria said. "Unless we're talking kill as in jokes, which I did that too."

Zach didn't appear at all fazed by her joke. "I can't believe you kill—Like, how, exactly, did you kill him?"

"Well, I actually killed a couple. I shot one with a bow, and stabbed three others."

Zach was silent once more. "Aria . . . you really killed four people?"

"Yes. But they were shooting at me and my friends. They killed two cops." She let out a shaky laugh. "It sounds like you're turning this around to make it sound like we're the bad guys and we killed innocent people."

"No, no, it's not that—I mean, I get that their bad guys. And better they die than you or anyone else who is defending the city. But . . . I just can't believe that my baby sister killed people."

Aria groaned. "I am not your baby sister. Not anymore. I'm nineteen."

Zach chuckled. "Still younger than me." He paused, then continued, "No, for real, I'm happy for you, Aria. I'm glad that you're kinda stepping outside your bubble and actually doing something. Since that night when you got your powers . . . it's been hard, having to see you struggle and live a life so different from others."

A thought passed in Aria's mind. "Apparently I'm not the only one. . ."

"What?" Zach asked, clearly confused.

"Nothing." Aria grinned. "I just thought I'd let you know."

"I'm glad you did. And just do your best. And please, Aria—just be careful. Okay?"

"Okay."

She could practically see Zach smiling on his end. "I love you, sis."

"I love you too, big bro." Aria hung up the phone, placed it on the nightstand, and rolled over, hoping to drift off to sleep.

The next morning, Annalise was speeding down the road on her motorcycle when she saw a conglomeration of first responder vehicles outside City Hall. "What's going on here?" she whispered, pulling the bike over.

She stepped from it, unlatching the helmet she wore when riding it. It wasn't her hero mask; she only wore that when actually "on duty," as she called it. Her orange hair was tied up in a bun, the way she preferred it when riding.

As she moved towards the scene, an officer stepped in front of her and held up a hand. "Sorry, ma'am. No one's allowed inside. Commissioner's orders."

"Annalise!" She turned at the call of her name. It was Dante, jogging to her side. He withdrew his wallet and held it up, brandishing the pass that Gordon had given each one of them. "We're with the GCPD." He nudged Annalise, and she did the same.

The officer examined each ID card, and then nodded. "I'm sorry for the mistake." He glanced up and pointed towards the building. "You can find the Commissioner inside. He's in Councilwoman Stevens's office."

The two nodded and walked past, and Annalise whispered into Dante's ear, "What's going on here?"

Dante whispered back, "Homicide. Someone killed the councilwoman."

Annalise's lip quivered. "Killed?"

Dante nodded. "Gordon called me and told me to hurry over. He says that something about it is . . . off."

Quickly, the two entered the elevator and rode up to the floor where the late councilwoman's office was located. Inside, it was bustling with police officers, paramedics, and other city officials. Once they arrived, they caught the attention of Harvey Dent, who was chattering on his cell phone. He held up a finger to them. "Yes, yes, I'll address it later. Thank you. Goodbye."

He hung up and walked over, shaking his head. "This is a mess." He eyed both of them. "Annalise, Dante," he greeted. "I'm sure you heard what's happened?"

"Just the basics. No details," Annalise answered.

Harvey turned and thumbed to the office where most of the people were congregating. "Gordon's in there. Come on."

The three moved down the hallway, slipping past cops and medics alike as they made their way to the office. Harvey led the way inside. "Jim," he called, and Gordon glanced over. As he walked towards them, Annalise and Dante caught a glimpse of a woman's body on the ground. Her businesslike attire had been shredded with bullets, and blood was everywhere—on the floor, on her, and on the walls.

"Oh my God," Annalise whispered as Gordon stopped by them.

"Dante, glad you could make it. You too, Mrs. Blackwood." He sighed. "This . . . this is unbelievable."

"What happened, Jim?" Dante asked, glad to tear his eyes away from the mangled corpse.

Gordon shook his head. "I don't even know, honestly. No one found her body until her secretary came in this morning. She saw her lying there and called for us. We've been trying to find out what exactly did happen."

A tall, lanky man with carefully combed dark hair and a pair of glasses stepped to Gordon's side. "Commissioner, nothing seems out of place in her office. Just in here."

Gordon nodded and gestured to the newcomer. "Thanks, Ed. Dante, Annalise, this is Edward Nygma, one of the GCPD's forensic scientists. Ed, this is Dante Herald and Annalise Blackwood, two members of our little government program."

Nygma nodded and gave a brief smile before he turned back to Gordon. "Commissioner, we found something else."

"What?" Gordon asked.

Nygma gestured towards a chair that was lying on its side. He scooped it up and held it upside down. Written on the bottom was a message—and it appeared to be written in blood.

Gordon read the words aloud: "Dear GCPD: Go to the bell, book, and candle, but don't fly off the handle. The secrets you seek are not so black and white, and last night was just the beginning of our little fight."

"And what does that mean?" Dante asked, speaking for all of them.

"Don't you see?" Nygma cut in. "It's a riddle of some sort."

"Well, Ed, you're the brains here. What does it mean?"

Nygma shook his head. "I don't have the faintest clue. I'll need some time to figure it out."

As Nygma departed, Annalise scratched her chin. "I think the part that's the clearest from that is the last line—'Last night was just the beginning of our little fight.' Definitely sounds like whoever did this had something to do with the ambush at Ace Chemicals."

"Why do you say that?" Harvey asked.

"Because it was addressed to the GCPD. It seems too coincidental that an ambush on police and a murder—with a note addressed to the police—happen so closely together."

"She does have a point," Dante mused.

Gordon clicked his tongue. "We've got to figure out who did this—and why." He glanced to Annalise. "If you're right and this is Falcone's work, then he must be planning something big. He's never targeted a city official before, just the GCPD. And the riddle . . . it has to mean something. Why would he just all of a sudden start leaving riddles and clues?"

Annalise grinned. "Sounds like a perfect job for the Titan Movement to look into."

John was sitting in the conference room in silence, waiting patiently. The desk officer had said that Commissioner Gordon and the DA were responding to some call at City Hall—something about a murder. Curiosity had gripped John, but he withheld the urge to dig in. He'd look into it if he was invited.

While he was sitting, John was trying to think of some way to preoccupy himself until the others arrived. "But how long will that be," he muttered aloud, closing his eyes. "How long . . ."

"Not too long," a smooth voice answered. John blinked his eyes open and looked around, but there was no one else in the room.

"Hello?" he asked. Maybe it was one of the others; he didn't know, but one might have some power to turn invisible and be playing some kind of a trick on him. He let out a shaky laugh. "All right, I give up. Which one of you is it? Clyde? Yeah, it's gotta be Clyde."

"No, it is not."

It took John a few moments, but then the voice registered with him. It was a voice he had spoken to telepathically on several occasions, but none that recent. He swallowed, closed his eyes, and then said, "Kuaion."

A light chuckle sounded. "I was afraid that our lack of meetings recently had caused you to forget my voice."

"I don't think that'd ever happen." He paused, then asked, "Not to sound abrupt, but why are you contacting me out of the blue like this?"

"Out of the blue? This is a great time of change for both yourself and the entire world, Johnathan." John felt a little surprised at hearing his full name. No one called him by it—not in a long time. "A gathering of such powerful individuals as this . . . Titan Movement . . . it's a monumental event, for the entire universe, not just mankind. Nothing like it has ever been done . . . not in a long time."

"Why do I have a nagging feeling that you're behind all this?"

Kuaion gave another laugh. "I am no orchestrator of such things. You already know that I only choose one carrier of my power every century."

"If my math isn't skewed, that would mean there's at least two others with these kind of powers. Maybe three."

Kuaion didn't answer immediately. "Not necessarily. Not everyone who is blessed with this power happens to be frozen in ice for several hundred years like you were."

John wanted to prod, but Kuaion cut him off. "There's not much time for idle discussion. Your new allies shall be arriving shortly. But I wanted to inform you that because of these circumstances, I have decided to further your training, more so than I have assisted any other possessor of my powers in years past."

"You talk like there's more to this than just a crime boss trying to tear down a city."

"Everything is not as it seems, Johnathan. Don't take the appearance on the surface as a complete illumination of the matter as a whole. There are things stirring that you cannot even begin to comprehend."

"Like what?" John asked, but no answer came. John quickly blinked his eyes open to see Clyde standing at the doorway, staring at him in silence.

"Oh. Hello," John quickly said. He hoped his face wasn't turning as red as he felt like it was.

"Hi," Clyde responded. "You have a Bluetooth or something?"

"No," John answered skeptically. "I'm pretty sure they're all white."

"That's not what I—" Clyde started, before he held up a hand. "Never mind. I'm not sure I wanna know."

"Know what?"

Clyde gestured with his hands. "About . . . you." John's face was the epitome of confusion, and Clyde held up his hand again. "That didn't come out quite right. I just meant that . . . I don't wanna get too bogged down in talks about powers and everything. All this threw me for a curveball."

"All this? You mean everyone having powers?"

"Yeah. I mean, where I come from, there's good guys and bad guys, but all this stuff going on in Gotham . . . I mean, there's guys dressed as bats and people with powers . . . I just thought all this stuff was from comic books."

John chuckled. Little does he know that I predate comic books.

The door cracked open, and Sean sidled in. "Well, looks like I'm not late this time." He walked over to an empty chair and sat down. "No one else here?"

"Well . . ." Clyde looked to John and arched an eyebrow. "Is your friend . . .?"

"What?" Sean asked, eyes flicking from Clyde to John and back and forth. "What friend?"

John sighed. "My friend, as you call him . . . he's not here, but technically he is."

Sean let out a laugh. "I hope you've got some clarification for that little bombshell."

"Well, you see, he's a type of spirit—a 'god,' if you a will. His name's Kuaion." He glanced to both Sean and Clyde, who both looked like they had had a box of rocks dropped on their heads. "He gives a different person these powers as a gift every hundred years. He chose me, and some nutjob tried to force me into his little league, or cult, or whatever, I refused, and in the process of trying to escape I got frozen. That was in the eighteenth century.

"A couple of years ago I was unfrozen. I've trained and hoped that some day I might be able to get back at the guy who froze me. He . . . he did a lot of bad things back when I was a kid."

Sean let out a nervous laugh. "Y'know, my instincts are telling me you're quite a storyteller, but something else is telling me that you aren't full of it."

Clyde didn't seem at all as if he was about to laugh. "So . . . you mean that you are . . . a couple hundred years old?" John nodded. "Oh man," Clyde sighed, scratching at his chin. "Maybe you should tell that to Miss Hot Stuff, take her down a notch. She acts like she's our boss or something."

"Who?"

"You know, Annalise. She's always giving orders and stuff."

Sean chuckled. "What's wrong with having a woman in charge, Cly old boy? Could be fun."

"Nothing's wrong with it," Clyde said. "It's just . . . well, since we've got someone who's a couple centuries old, we could use the experience."

John laughed. "Hold on now—I may be a couple hundred years old, but the experience thing isn't necessarily true. Like I said, I got frozen as a kid—I was fifteen. Technically, I've only got the life experience of a twenty-one-year-old, all the other years, they don't count."

The three laughed as they continued to chat away and get to know one another. But still, even as the conversation wore on, John still wondered at what exactly lay behind Kuaion's grim message.

"Come on, shove off. You aren't getting paid just to loaf around. Get to work."

As the foreman moved on, the construction worker let out a sigh and muttered, "Thinks highly of himself, doesn't he?"

"Well, he is the boss," his friend countered.

"True. Well, let's get to it."

The two got up and moved towards the aqueduct. There had been complaints about clogged water lines from the neighborhood that the water works were connected to. So, the crew had been called out.

The first guy jumped down, turning on his helmet light. "Man, it's dark down here."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark."

"Not the dark—it's what's in the dark."

"What, you think that bat monster's down here?"

"Well . . ."

"Listen up, it's just a hoax! The cops probably made it up just to scare the crooks after Batman went on his vacation or whatever. It's not even real."

"I'm not so sure. I know a guy—"

"Yeah, is it the same guy who said he saw a UFO that one time?"

"Look, that was New Year's—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just keep on going and get this job done, then we'll talk about the freaky bat monster."

The first worker continued on, when something shifted down the tunnel. He snapped his head, shining his light down the aqueduct. "Um . . . did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

The worker turned back to his friend. "I thought I heard someth—"

Before he could finish, a towering shadow appeared over him. It let out a bloodcurdling screech and leapt down, claws and fangs flashing down as the worker was pulled to the ground. The second worker was frozen in shock as the creature held his companion to the ground, claws digging at his throat.

The man squirmed to no avail and his friend's eyes went from him to the creature. Without a second thought, he turned and took off down the aqueduct.

The creature let out a hiss and contemplated giving chase, but he saw the man running for the sunlight. It would be of no use. As the man in its grasp continued to squirm, the creature glanced down and plunged its claws down, silencing the man. It got up and turned, leaving the body.

A/N: So, here's chapter 18! We get to see a little bit of relationship building between some of the characters, as well as some more concerning the councilwoman's murder and a certain bat creature. Leave your thoughts on the chapter in the reviews! Again, thank you all for taking the time to follow this story and give me your thoughts and for being so supportive with your ideas. It means a lot! We'll get to see some more of the characters who were absent this go around in the next chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it! Until next time.