Chapter 16:

"Double Trouble"

Damian had had enough. Not only was he completely exhausted, but yet another animal had entered the maze, and he had found himself back where he started. He was never one to give up, never one to lay down, never one to surrender—he would rather die before relenting to his enemy—but now, down on his knees, clutching his chest, he felt like he was going to finally die.

He couldn't move, his body—despite all his training—wouldn't allow him to budge an inch anymore. His vision was blurry and failing, he was breathing harder than he had ever done before after running for so long. He had lost his mask a while ago, the adhesive used to attach it to his face had worn off because he was sweating so much.

At long last, this was it. If this was an escape room, Grayson would've been disappointed in him that he couldn't find the exit.

The last of the cats that had emerged was a White Tiger. Damian knew this type of tiger originated from somewhere in India or in parts of China and was rare. Handles must have had a zoo of animals at his disposal to use in his maze, all wild cats, all creatures found in exotic places around the world. He must have collected them as pets when he was with Spyral and were now full grown.

The tiger approached him and he tried to move, but all he did was collapse to the floor. He looked at the tiger as it came near him, and for a moment, either it was his imagination or just his eyes, or something else, but the image of the animal glitched.

And then it came to him, and he chuckled a little to himself, coughing also, as air entered his lungs. He had leapt over the lioness the first time and it had cut it into his tights, but didn't draw blood; he had narrowly escaped a jaguar's bite when it lashed out at him; escaped the puma; and a black panther. And now, this white tiger posed a similar threat.

But then it dawned on him. And he hadn't put two and two together until now. Handles controlled photo-kinetic technology: hard light constructs. It would easy for him to scan an animal and them download each of their dimensions into a sophisticated computer and produce exact and realistic facsimiles that acted just like the real thing with the proper algorithms imputed.

In fact, it would be just as easy to create a maze. And the ability to make someone believe what they saw was real with projection units. Touching hard light was just like feeling a solid object, and the walls felt real, even the pound mark he had made looked real. But was what he was experiencing actually real or a projected fantasy?

If he put things into perspective, and everything he had experienced—even the room with the eels—conscripted by a computer and controlled by Jake Handles, then that would explain things. It would also explain why he felt he was going around in circles. The human brain can be manipulated when sight was the most utilized sensory perception.

He hadn't been thinking straight and had allowed his emotions rule.

He laughed. Not out of humour, but out of realization.

Thinking back, he knew he should have thought of it sooner.

Grayson had given him what he called: "The Robin's Handbook". It was basically a notebook of worldly lessons, opinions, notations, scribbles, and ideas, written down over a period of time when he was The Boy Wonder.

Grayson had passed it down to Todd, who then made entries of his own. Then Drake got it, who also added to it, and also corrected everyone's spelling mistakes—which was annoying.

Each Robin used a different colour pen, so there was no confusion as to who wrote what: Grayson wrote in black, Todd scribbled in red—his handwriting was like trying to decipher hieroglyphics; Drake penned in green, and Damian decided on yellow.

It was a secret from Bruce, supposedly, because it also had personal entries about Bruce Wayne: his moods, idiosyncrasies, likes and dislikes, favourite foods, humorous personal anecdotes, and other things—Todd even had a special section on Bruce's sexual partners. If Bruce ever learned of the existence of the book, he would be furious.

When Damian was first handed the book, he was reluctant to read it, thinking: what lessons could a circus clown pass down to a person who was once member of the League of Assassins? But it was on one night when he was severely bored, that he partook in the book. And it didn't disappoint. It also gave him an insight into Grayson's thoughts, passions and believes—and the idioms of the others. Though, most of Todd's and Drake's entries were carbon copies of Grayson's previous hand-me-downs.

On thing that stood out was that Grayson has a religious side to him that surprised Damian, because he never took Grayson as the religious type, or that he believed in a god that was based on conjecture and not subjected to a scientific premise. He actually found small crucifixes on several pages of the handbook and each corresponded to a lesson he learned that saved his life.

But Damian only followed Grayson's advise. And one of the most important things Grayson parted in the book was Rule #12 of a set of laws he established for himself: Stay Frosty. And think before you RE-ACT. And then something that followed it, that could only come from Grayson's quirky sense of humour: And never ASSUME—or you make an ASS out of U and ME.

And right now, Damian felt like an ass for not realizing the obvious: He was in maze of Handles' own design, a computer generated fantasy that had a continuous will of regeneration. Handles made him see what he wanted Damian to see. That meant, the white tiger was a computer simulation.

He stood on his feet and faced it. This time, he would stand his ground. He had his doubts, but this was it. He wasn't going to run anymore. "Come get me, pussy cat," he said, purposely provoking the animal to attack. If, his theory had merit, he would be safe. Handles wasn't going to fool him any longer.

The white tiger lunged at him and he braced himself—when the tiger disappeared into thin air. He admitted, he had shut his eyes for a split moment as the animal leapt at him. He then looked around, eyes wide open, but the corridor he was in was empty.

He suddenly developed a burst of energy. "Handles!" he shouted. "The game's over! Stop playing around! I know it's all fake!"

Laughter erupted from all sides around Damian.

Suddenly, there was a flash of bright light and the walls around him changed from grey to a cross-squared pattern, one small square was smashed from Damian hitting it previously—obviously the damaged section he had pounded as an identifier marker.

A condensed version of Handle's photo-kinetic technology, Damian wagered.

He found himself enclosed in a ten by ten box much like a prison cell, but there was no ceiling. So, he leapt, grabbed onto the edge and hauled himself up, forcing strength from his exhausted muscles, and landed on the top of the box, balancing on the edge of the wall's border, crouching in its edge. After a quick glance around, he found himself looking at a massive complex of tiers and floating computer displays and a gigantic computer that occupied a great deal of the space. It had all the like of the Batcave.

And Jake Handles, Annex, as he called himself now, sitting in a chair in front of a series of floating projection screens controlled by finger sensors—with CGI 4D schematic designates of every animal he had used in the maze, including one or two others he as going to use. Handles sat with one leg crossed over the other, looking smug.

Annex wore his half operatic mask and was dressed all in white.

Damian didn't jump down, unlike inside box with the photo-kinetic maze and imaginary, he found the twin lionesses that he had first encountered were in fact real and were presently acting like centuries moving around the box. They roared at him, jumped up, and swiped their crawls in a gamely manner. Luckily, the box was just high enough so they couldn't touch him. That didn't stop them from trying, however. Since it had all been a computer generated forgery, his tights hadn't been ripped, which pleased him.

"Pathetic! It took you a little over an hour to figure out my trick after my animals ran you ragged," Handles said, almost annoyed. He stood. "You were being tested and timed, and you failed miserably. Richard Grayson would've figured out my deception sooner."

Damian smirked. "Results are results, however you come by them," he said snidely.

"You don't deserve to follow in his footsteps. Nightwing Junior is a sham!"

"Don't be a poor sport. I figured out your game, give credit where credit is due."

Suddenly, he almost lost his balance when one of the lioness's jumped at him from below, knocking the box. Obviously his tone towards its master had angered it. He backed off, it had come awfully close to his right foot. With its sharp claws, and the fact he wasn't wearing any boots, one swipe could have ripped flesh from bone. The other then followed suit, mimicking the other's attack. He avoided that too, balancing, and walking along the edge of the box like a tightrope.

Child's play, he thought.

Handles snapped his fingers and the two lionesses settled, but continued to encircle the box enclosure.

The villain then approached, and one of the lioness's broke formation and went to him. He pet it on its head like it was the friendliest animal in the world. "Do you like my pets? I've had them since they were cubs, rescuing them from a couple of poachers when I was in Africa on a mission with Spyral, a year before they branded me a traitor. Say hello to Panthera and Inda."

Damian looked, and then switched his attention to the other that remained below, watching it hover around the enclosure, pacing back and forth, never wavering its gaze. They appeared to have been both trained with complete and utter loyalty to their master. Lionesses were known to rip the flesh of their prey to shreds and Damian didn't want to be their next meal, so he remained calm.

"Lovely pets, Handles," he said sarcastically, refusing to use the villain's alias. "Let me guess: Their favourite food is human flesh?"

The lioness below Damian gave a series of deep, but short roars, obviously disliking his snide attitude. Obviously, this was the more aggressive of the pair. Animals were very intuitive.

Damian roared back loudly, his teeth showing, and shouted: "Piss off!"

The lioness jumped. Damian avoided its attack and managed to kick it in the snout. The animal landed with the atypical ease of a domesticated house cat, wiped its nose with a paw as if to pat down a hurt, and then roared again.

"Inda…enough!" Handles ordered.

Inda gave one short, deep snort, and then went over to Handles, and received a petting on the head much like Panthera. Both lionesses then sat down on other side of Handles like two guardian statues.

"Admittedly, Handles, I'm impressed you managed to train them so well," Damian said, and meaning it. "Lions, in general, are on the endangered species list, and they're not known to like humans much."

"Treat animals well and respect is reciprocated, it's as simple as that."

Damian could attest to that. He had rescued a few stray animals over time including: a cow, a turkey, a cat and a dog, which now roam the Wayne property. Not to mention the hundreds of bats inside the Batcave.

"Now what?" Damian said, as he crouched on the box wall of the enclosure. "Do you expect me to stay up here all day?"

"You may come down," Handles said. "I assure you, my pets will not attack. They will obey me without question."

Damian paused for a moment, but ultimately decided to jump down. He then stayed calm and still, as both lionesses were watching him keenly. With a single command, Handles could order them to attack, and Damian would be dead. He knew a lioness ran up to 30-36kph, but could also reach up to 81 km/h in short bursts, if their prey was close enough. But he wasn't going to take the chance.

Knowing he had temporarily lost, Damian slowly raised his arms in surrender. "Am I your prisoner now?"

"Need you ask such an obvious observation? The short answer is: yes. The long answer is: You'll wish you weren't."

x x x

It was close to eleven o'clock at night and the Batboat raced over choppy waters through complete darkness, the only light came from its headlights. It hit a wave and soared into the air, then landed with a heavy thud, which caused both passengers to leave their seats for a moment and then come crashing back down.

Jon protested the rough ride and Jason apologized, but speed was a factor he claimed. The navigational systems were leading them on a direct path to Treasure Island, according to Tim's vectors, and so far, they hadn't experienced any more then the typical rough waters normally seen in these parts. There was no supernatural happenings or mysterious weather phenomenon.

Despite the time, Jon Kent wasn't tired at all. When they first started out, knowing it would take a while to reach the island, Jason thought it prudent for Jon to take a little catnap before they reached further out to sea. The kid had refused, and was now sitting shotgun, more excited than before they started out—especially with all the sugary drinks he drank found in the fridge left by Alfred.

Age meant nothing sometimes, Jason thought. Jon Kent had seen a lot in his young years, he was only twelve, even younger than Damian. Jason was just as young when he began his crime fighting career as Robin. But the one thing he hoped for was that Jon Kent didn't experience what he had to endure like at the hands of the Joker.

To pass the time before they got to this point, Jason had switched on the TV to Gotham News. None of it was good news. Every headline talked about Scarecrow's Fear Germ and how it was plaguing Gotham; there had been four suicides in the last week. From eye witness reports, the victims screamed in horror or cried out in despair before they either jumped to their deaths from buildings, bridges, or, in one case: suicide by gun in the mouth. It was staring to become an epidemic. So far, fifteen deaths could be attributed to the Scarecrow's newest psychotropic attack on the people of Gotham.

Jon Kent scrolled through media feed on his smart phone. Jason saw this out of the corner of his eye and he couldn't believe the boy was that much in tune with world events, kids this age should be playing with their friends, watching the latest anime's—for which Jason had a guilty pleasure for; some of them were actually pretty good for cartoons—and sharing funny memes. But for Jon Kent, the son of Superman, that kind of innocence had already been lost.

The Batboat was on autopilot at the moment, their designation locked in. Jason would place it back on manual when they got closer just in case there were any surprises: The Devil's Triangle—or Bermuda Triangle, by another name—was also host to the Kingdom of Atlantis, where Auqaman resided. It was also disputed territorial waters for some of Atlantis's enemies, but sonar was clear.

Jason enjoyed an espresso as he watched the darkness outside the blast shield, Jon was quiet, so he enjoyed the solitude.

"Scarecrow's an evil man," Jon suddenly voiced, after watching a short video news segment with earbuds. "Is there anything that can be done to stop him?"

"Tim's on the case," Jason said. "In fact…" He reached into a bag that he had placed between the seats and checked his phone with its cracked screen. This time it was fully charged. He checked his messages, scrolled with a thumb, and there was several from Tim regarding his recent visit to Arkham Asylum. "Dangerous; foolish…" He said, as if scolding Tim directly, after reading the messages. "Tim went to Arkham alone and spoke to Dr. Hugo Strange about a possible cure for the Fear Germ," he told Jon.

"My Dad told me about him once. He's a psychopath. Did Tim get a cure?"

Jason said no. But Tim hoped to implement a plan to devise one knowing Strange would never shrink at an implied challenge.

It was another hour before they got within sight of the island on the radar. Jon had had just crashed asleep less than forty-five minutes prior despite his burst of energy before, and Jason let the kid sleep and wake him later, knowing he'd probably face some action when they got to their destination. He had dressed into his Red Hood gear in the meantime.

Fifteen minutes later, he shook Jon. "Wake up, kid, we're almost there. Time for this dynamic duo to get ready."

Jon woke with a yawn and soon became fully awoke when the island came into full view. According to Tim's information: it was a man made island, but unsanctioned. But with Spyral's influence, certain authorities had turned a blind eye to it, and allowed it exist. Jason figured they were bribed. It was in the Atlantic Ocean and was not disputed waters, so someone knew it was here.

Jon got ready in his Superboy gear, while Jason manually moored to a normal looking wooden dock connected to the rocky shoreline that went a long way up on the beach with sizeable boulders, that Jason knew, would make the perfect place for an enemy ambush. So many places to hide. And with its open shores, there was probably surveillance equipment everywhere. It was very dark as Jason looked out the blast shields, he decided to come in dark, so their presence was not seen. But the stillness made him nervous. This dock was obviously for aesthetics and there was probably a secret way into the inner island, which wasn't all that large-one-quarter the size of Manhattan Island.

What sort of reception would they get once they were detected?

Just then, he got his answer, as flood lights erupted with and illuminating blinding force, and a lone figure stood on a cliff's edge, his features silhouetted by the light casting his body in darkness. But Jason saw that he held two powerful hand guns. The figure pointed and he fired at them with a consistent barrage at the blast shield with armour piercing bullets.

"Get down!" Jason shouted, and with an instinctive protection of a parent, he leapt on top and smothered Jon with his body, as the continuous concussion of heavy gunfire hit the boat's blast shields and shattered its glass with maximum force.

"Come on out, Batman!…The verdict is in!…It's time for you to die!" the person said, followed by a deep chuckle with more gun fire.

It was the atypical assumption by a member of Batman's Rogue Gallery, but nine-out-of-ten, it was Batman that was charging in to the rescue, hence the name drop. Obviously, however, the figure was mistaken, unbeknownst that Batman was not in the Batboat.

But the voice Jason recognized was distinctive and was unmistakably all too familiar.

It was Harvey Two-Face.

To be continued...