CHAPTER 47:
"Nasty Surprises"

Batman and company moved through Bane's complex stealthily and with caution.

Jason, now with his helmet on, said he would prefer to go in with his guns blazing, but then there was Tim and Steph to think about which contributed to unknown factors. They could see heat-signatures of people in the complex in their masks, but nothing stood out to identity clearly who was who with their equipment. Arkells monitored the situation with satellite surveillance, but one mis-step could cost a life.

Nightwing mentioned the place made it feel like it had been designed by Edward Nygma—The Riddler. Luckily, with a PDA link-up, they were able to navigate through the place with relative ease, taking out some of Bane's men as they went along.

They all had GPS in their costumes and by this method they were able to track Tim Drake here to El Patio de los Demons, aka The Devil's Playground. They found his costume tossed in the corner of some empty room. Taking Drake's costume with them, they carried on, leaving nothing to chance, ever watchful for enemies.

It reminded Jason of a first-person RPG game. But unlike the video games he played, he considered this boring.

Two of Bane's henchmen burst out of a room up ahead hiding until the perfect moment. But the moment they emerged, Nightwing tossed one of his escrima sticks at one's face, knocking him out, while Batgirl charged in and swept the other off his feet with her bo-staff. She then whacked him across the head, laying him out cold.

Nightwing commented on her fluent of motion, and then she replied, "Wait until we get back home." And she winked.

Jason had taken the rear and protected everyone from unsuspecting attacks. He now turned, said, "At this point, there'll be nothing left for me. These are new guns, man-stoppers, fashioned after Harvey Two-Face's. I'm inching to give them a try."

"No killing, Jason," Batman warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jason said light-heartedly. "I'm kidding. I have the added shock-features switched on." Despite their tiff about Jason almost killing the Penguin some time back, all had been forgiven between him and Bruce. Penguin had been severely beaten, but after all the things he had done over the years, it was felt the stoutish villain deserved a little scare.

After peaking around a sharp corner using a mirror to check first, Batman and Nightwing went, followed by Batgirl, and Jason once again brought up the rear.

Jason twirled around on his boot heels, looking in every direction. He was antsy. He said it was too quiet. Then: "Where are all the cucarachas-Bane's men? As they say in the old country? And Bane? This is boring. My fingers are falling asleep."

Batman turned to scold him when he suddenly stopped. The sound of footprints were heard from the corridor up ahead. The lighting was bad in this part of the complex, the corridor spooky like haunted by fantasma, but the moment the owner of those footprints came into view, through the casting darkness, they all knew things were about to get a lot more dangerous.

Harley Quinn walked out into the open, holding her oversized mallet over her right shoulder. Despite its size, she could wield it like it weighed nothing. But even though it looked heavy, it was constructed with materials that made it light weight but as hard as steel. And when she plopped it down to the ground, head first, the ground clanged with a metallic sound.

"Good evening, gents, and lady," Harley said. "Welcome to Bane's El…Demon—something or other. Let's just call it his hideaway."

"Oh, look—a boss," Red Hood remarked, keeping his guns on stand-by, elbows bent upwards. "This is the point in the game where the hero normally powers up to get ready for a long, tiresome battle. But this is a Mini-Boss, not the…Wait! How do you say: Big Boss in Spanish? Oh yeah: Gran Jefe. But this is a niña pequeña grande marachas."

"Uh—did…did you just say what I think you just said?" Batgirl questioned, turning to look back at Red Hood. "Did you just call her a small girl with big boobs in Spanish?"

Nightwing chuckled and Batman produced a thin smirk.

"I am fluent in five different languages including the ever popular one: Sarcasm. That's my all time favourite."

"Kids these days," Nightwing said, "always thinking with their…" —he took a moment— "…polla."

Red Hood snapped a look at Nightwing. "Huh? Did you just make a dick joke?"

"Ah, hellooooo!" Harley said, waving her hands in the air. "Baddy here! Pay attention over here. I have no idea what you're talking about. So, speak the language of America. Speak English."

"Um, America is a land of different languages, Harley," Red Hood responded, "and Spanish is the second most popular language spoken, followed by Chinese and French. Gotham doesn't have a large Spanish population, but there's enough for their own television network. English is the number one spoken language around the world, but I dare you to try to find a kid these days who can actually properly speak it without using slang or have every second word not skewed with profanity."

The others agreed.

"Kids back in my day had respect for others," Nightwing said. "Now…"

He stopped, this was not the time for that discussion. He had his opinion on the matter, but he'd reserve it for another time. Tim was the exception to the rule. Damian broke it at every turn. And Jason made his own rules and then broken them.

"Where's Spoiler?" Batman asked, getting straight down to business, setting aside mentioning Tim for the moment. Where one was, the other was sure to be, and held together.

Alfred had told them that Stephane Brown had come to the manor looking for Tim, after a long hiatus, only to be told that he was missing. She then tracked Tim here. Slade and Pixie waited in the back alley in their now crushed Sedan, for Stephane rescued Tim. Unfortunately, things had gone wrong.

"Who? I don't know that name," Harley said. "But, if you're referring to that blonde slutty whore, I believe you'll find her with Timothy Drake. Why, or why, would hunky Drakey-poo choose that bimboo over sexy me is beyond me."

With the derogatory name calling ignored, Barbara said: "They have a lot of history."

Harley shrugged, holding the handle of her mallet. "History is the past, the future is now. All I know is that the two of them engaged in some serious hankey-pankey while they were here that could make them some serious deniro on the internet if properly managed. Too bad it wasn't recorded. People pay a lot of money for things like that. Young Timothy truly got his rocks off."

"You have a big mouth, Harley," Red Hood said.

"If you saw what I saw, so does Stephane Brown."

"That's enough, Harley!" Batman said coarsely.

"Tim's an adult, so is Stephane, but I'll have a talk with him later about it," Nightwing said. Batman nodded. Dick knew Bruce wasn't good at talking to "the kids" about the birds and the robins, so he left that for Dick.

"Later?" Harley grabbed her mallet with both hands, bringing it up to bare. "That's if you get past me! And no way am I going to let you get pass me—no get out of Jail Free Card, no passing Go, no collecting $200."

Red Hood laughed short. "That's chump change to us," he said.

Batman gave Red Hood a harsh look.

"Hey, I just had a brilliant idea," Harley said. "Instead of battling it out, how about I just blackmail you all? Because I know who you all are now. How about we hash out a deal? You pay me a large sum of money, I tell you where Timothy and Stephane can be found, and I keep my mouth shut. I'll never bother you again. Sound good?"

"Until the next time you want to more money," Batgirl remarked.

"Would you take a post dated cheque?" Red Hood said facetiously. "Although, I'm usually hurting at the end of the month; I do have expenses. But my cheque will be good. You just won't be able to cash until 2050. A person like me can only make so much capital selling his services to those willing to pay for the goods."
"You and I are going to have a little talk later," Batman said sternly.

It was obvious what Jason meant by 'selling his services to those willing to pay for the goods'. It wasn't the first time Batman learned that Jason was selling blackmarket goods and weapons on the street financing his personal vendetta against Black Mask.

Harley gripped the handle to her mallet tightly, the leather of her gloves even made squeaking noises as her hands clenched. "Okay, Batfamily, time to play with the Queen of Hearts. Since Mr. J isn't here, I'm going to have be extra nasty."

Suddenly, a shot rang out, echoing the corridor, startling everyone. Everyone halted in their tracks and turned to Jason.

Red Hood had fired at the ceiling. He said, "Trust me, missy, you're no where in her league," Red Hood said, as if speaking with admiration. "I know the real Queen of Hearts, and she's a classic lady, despite being a little eccentric. Compared to her, your jester costume suits you well. You're nothing but a clown."

Harley grit her teeth in anger and went to attack, but Red Hood pointed the gun he just fired at her stopping her in her tracks. "My ammo is live now, it's off shock-mode. I think the time has come to stop playing around and get down to business." He walked to her, gun pointed. "You're going to let us pass, or I am going to shoot you. I've had an interesting couple of days, but very little sleep. After this is all over, I'll put in a good word for you, and get you a nice, soft padded cell, where you can think happy, happy thoughts."

Harley smirked. "Oh, I have plenty of happy thoughts, and can't wait for the unhappy ending I'm about to give you."

She suddenly tossed her mallet into the air. Jason cocked his head to follow it, raising his guns. If she meant it to come down on him from above, he'd pulverized it before it had a chance.

Then things seemed to happen very quickly.

She ran at him unexpectedly and slid between his legs, reached up with a balled fist, and punched him in the soft spot, underneath his codpiece. Then she got up, pinched his butt, performed a cartwheel, flipped backwards with aerodynamic mastery, caught her mallet, and returned to her previous readied stance, all in a matter of moments—everything taking less than mere seconds.

Nightwing caught it all. It paid to stay in shape and to be as flexible as possible.

"Oh my god…" Batgirl breathed out shocked.

"That's what you get for making those sexist and insulting remarks, sweetie," Harley said with a smirk. "I'm a member of a coalition of women online that think Red Hood is a complete and utter ass. There's also an entire website where women just rip into you. One woman on the website says you need to get blasted. Another woman says you need to be stripped naked, chained up, and…"

"Harley, that's enough," Nightwing said. "You've made your point. No need to beat him further while he's down."

Red Hood stood frozen like a statue, his arms locked in position where they were before she did her sneaky maneuver. A soft moan came from behind his mask. Then a squeaky sound of "Ow…" came, his voice a few octaves below normal.

Nightwing went to him. "Red Hood, you okay?"

Jason didn't move, but shook his head from side to side slowly. For once, he was speechless.

Nightwing looked at Harley, impressed by her skill. It took mastery to do that. "Where did you learn to do something like that?"

"From the school of hard knocks and dirty tricks," she replied.

Batman then tossed two Batarang's at Harley, which she batted away with her mallet, but the assault quickly forced her to flee for the time being. She ran down the corridor into the darkness. "Toodools!" she said in leaving.

Barbara went to Jason. "Jason—please speak to us. Does it hurt?"

Nightwing gave her a look. "Jason kicked me once there, I didn't stop hurting for three hours," he said. "So, yeah, I'd say it hurts."

He relinquished Jason of his guns. Jason's arms remained stationary, his hands still partially folded in as if still holding them. Jason was literally frozen to the spot. Nightwing put them back in his thigh holsters as Barbara unclipped the latches of his Jason's hood. When his mask was removed, Jason's face was ashen, his mouth agape, his eyes wide.

He squeaked again. Then Jason managed to say, breathlessly, "I think she broke Keith and Taylor."

Barbara looked bewildered. "Who? What?"

"Keith Richards and Mick Taylor, two of the founding members of the Rolling Stones rock group," Nightwing explained. "I can't believe it. You gave each testicle a specific name?" Jason nodded. "Let me guess, Keith is on the right and Taylor is on the left?" Jason nodded again. Nightwing then said, "Keith Richards was Mick Jagger's right-hand man and his best guitarist. Mick Taylor was third string guitarist. He left the group in 1974 to pursue other avenues in the genre, but he still joins them from time-to-time. Now it makes perfect sense, well to Jason. He named his genitals Jagger and the Rolling Stones. Only he would do something like that."

"I'm surprised you know all that," Barbara said.

"During those boring nights on patrol, I listen to a lot of music on my phone. However now, whenever I listen to the Rolling Stones, I'll get the image of Jason's manhood in my mind. Thanks Jay, you ruined it for me."

"Walk it off," Batman said. "Barbara stay with him, Dick come with me. We're going after Harley. Maybe she'll lead us to Bane?"

Barbara agreed, and Nightwing followed Batman down the corridor.

x x x

Damian thought fondly of his initial time as Nightwing Junior and he wondered after all this was over would he keep going with it? With Grayson back in the fold, there was no need for two Nightwing's. He donned the costume now because his Robin attire was still being repaired. Alfred hadn't sown the rips and tears after his latest tangle with a crazed lunatic.

Well, to be fair Jon Kent wasn't crazy. But he was very passionate when it came to defending his loved ones and sometimes his super strength got the better of him. He was still learning to control it. They had a fight just before the incident with Grayson being shot and Kent had been a little too rough, ripping Damian's Robin costume to the point it was a hazard to wear.

Damian had apologized after calling Jon Kent's father—Superman—sometimes too weak on crime in Metropolis.

When Grayson got shot, Damian decided to take up the moniker of his mentor, so Alfred designed a new costume for him, one based on Nightwing's. His father didn't like it and told him to keep to his Robin duties, but he refused, and became Nightwing Junior—a coined term come of his fans and the media began to call him. The condo he bought in Bludhaven with his father's credit card was still a good base of operations, but he didn't need it anymore.

"Maybe I'll give it to Grayson as a wedding gift," he said quietly to himself. "He's always like Bludhaven best."

Right now, however, he was stuck playing babysitter for Slade and his girlfriend, Pixie, who, in Damian's opinion, was not a bad looker. He thought back to that time in the underground paradise pool with those four women PK Constructs of Jake Handles, and even though he would never admit it openly, he had considered them quite endearing.

He leaned up against the side of Slade's car, arms crossed, and bored out of his mind. Bane's men were out for the count on the ground. Harley did a number on Slade's car and it was ready for the junkyard. Slade was a fighter, smart, and an expert in several different martial arts, but without a weapon, he was no match for guns and bullets without at least kevlar for protection.

Damian's mind suddenly jumped to the scene with Jake Handles and just before he stepped off the edge of the open crevasse on Treasure Island and plummeted to his death. Why would he commit suicide? Thinking back at what he said—how he thought the man probably had nothing left to live for—no person would do that unless they were mentally ill. And Jake Handles was not that sort of person according to the mental profile Damian had developed on the man. He now shared Grayson's feelings that it felt wrong.

He stared at a patch of dirt, lost in thought, and replayed the last scene of Handles life in his mind—and yes, Grayson did mention Handles was smiling just before he dropped. Something didn't fit right. Was Jakes Handles really dead?

Suddenly, he was knocked out of his reverie by the sound of something jammed forcefully into metal and he jerked his attention to it.
Slade had managed to find a crowbar somewhere and was using it to try to pry the back truck on his car open. But after several attempts, he just got angry, and just started banging it like a bat.

"Stupid piece of shit!"

Pixie tried to calm him down.

Damian couldn't help but smirk. Here was a renown mercenary pegged down to a simple man acting like he had lock his keys in his car. He didn't know why it felt so funny, but it made him chuckle.

"So, you think this is funny?" Slade said. Damian's smile faded. "Get over here and help me open this truck so I get my stuff out, or I'll make your face the same colour as your costume—black and blue."

"Now, now," Pixie said, trying to calm him down. "He's not to blame for this, Harley is."

Damian turned. "Yeah? I dare you to try it." But he went over.

He remembered what his father had said to him on the island when everyone thought Arkells had died due to his rash decision to toss the EMP bomb at Handles after Arkells was thought to be absorbed into his bio-matrix, and quickly chilled out.

He had brought his Robin utility belt and took out a small settling torch. He used it on a spot where it would be most effective before its limited oxyacetylene was used up. When he made a suitable hole, Slade inserted the crowbar and pried at the inner lock. After a couple of tries, the trunk popped open and he was able to retrieve his fighting gear, weapons, and helmet.

"You had that thing all this time and you didn't offer to help us?" Pixie said, in a disappointing manner.

Damian was a little taken aback by the tone of her voice. For the moment, she sounded just like his own mother—Talia al Ghul. And he felt a pang of regret for not helping earlier.

He was about to apologize, when suddenly, something burst through the back wall of Bane's building complex, and brick and mortar exploded in every direction.

Damian ducked when a brick came jettisoning straight towards him like a projectile at Mach speed.

And Bane came storming into view.

To be continued...