CHAPTER 58:
"Double Takeout"

Nightwing returned to the guest room he and Barbara had been occupying since they arrived at the Manor earlier in the day for the party, and searched for her ring. In truth, in all the chaos, he had also forgotten about it himself, when things got heated and the plan was implemented to trick Riddler's men. Retrospectively, he should have retrieved it then and taken it with him for safe-keeping.

He observed events unfold throughout the Manor and especially in the Den under the guise of his refractive cloaking technology and when he saw Jake Handles, he was beyond shocked, even when he was beating down on Arkells disguised as Dick Grayson.

Now that he had returned to the room, and as soon as he retrieved the ring, he'd hunt for Bruce. He was more than likely down in the Batcave, for whatever reason. Maybe he had wanted to get away from the party, as well?

He didn't see Bruce doing that. So, now with Riddler and Jake at the Manor, and Bruce no where to be seen, he suspected something sinister happened, considering Jake knew all their secret identities. Knowing Jake, his old Spyral colleague would most likely want to eliminate all the largest threats first before proceeding with his plans. But he knew Bruce would fight back. He would never relent. Just like that time they fought each other in the Batcave. Unless, he was incapacitated somehow?

He searched for the ring, but it was not where Barbara had said it would be—on the dresser. Of course, she would take it off before they had their intimate shower for fear of not wanting it to be accidentally dropped down the drain. But it couldn't have gotten far? He looked under the bed, along the edges of the floor, under the dresser, and everywhere else he could think it may have dropped, and/or rolled under, however the circumstance. Yet nothing, it was nowhere to be found.

He stood in the middle of the room and pondered. It was obvious to him then: Someone had entered the room and took it. And though he couldn't prove it, he hoped it wasn't true, one of Riddler's people had come back up here and searched the room for any valuables to take, which meant other rooms may have been ransacked, as well.

He chided himself. But it wasn't the cost of the ring than gave him the most grief. It was very expensive, but thanks to Damian's great financial magic with his portfolios, helping him to re-develop his savings when he was out of the game with amnesia, he could afford it. But it was its symbolism and what it meant for him and Barbara's newest consummated relationship, a new life together.

He felt violated, and it made him angry.

He went to leave, when someone he never thought he would ever see inside Wayne Manor, and whom he had obviously missed seeing earlier as part of either Riddler or Handles' crew, Duela Dent, Harvey Two-Face's daughter, strolled into the guest room. If he recalled, she was from an alternative universe; the multi-verse being infinite with heroes and villains alike.

He was cloaked by the RCT device, a wrist bracelet of sorts, but he had this awful feeling that he was looking at the perpetrator who had stolen his would-be-wife's ring. She then said something to the point of: "I know I should be looking for those two teens, but I want to see what other posh valuables I can snatch before we have to leave this place. That brat Wayne kid has next to nothing…"

She took off her left glove and revealed the ring around her third finger, and gazed at it, looking at it in the ceiling light, admirably.

"So gorgeous! Maybe someday I'll be asked by someone to marry me? Maybe, maybe not? Right now, I'm having too much fun! No need to spoil things. After this caper, I'm going to spring Joker out of Arkham, and together, we're going to have lots of fun!"

"Not too much fun, I hope?"

Duela Dent swung around, obviously looking for where the voice had come from. Nightwing then grabbed Duela's left wrist, and held it tight as the villainess tried to pull away. He slipped the ring off her finger and then released her wrist. He stepped back, and Duela yanked her arm back, clutching it, probably wondering if she had just been assaulted by a ghost.

"W…what the hell? Who's there?" She momentarily stopped chewing something in her mouth. Maybe gum, Dick thought.

"I am the Ghost of the riiiiiing," he said phantomesquely, reverberating his voice, recalling a movie with a similar theme. "This ring is cuuuuuuursed." He moved it around as if projecting it, floating it in mid-air. Duela couldn't see him, only the ring. "Anyone who touches it will suffer great peril. Leave, and turn yourself in to the police, or you'll bring grave misfortune to everyone around you, Duela…"

The moment her name was spoken, it appeared the jig was up. She cupped her hands on her hips. "Nice try, whoever you are. I've seen this movie, too. It was a B-movie, at best. Just like that other movie Handles wanted me to watch: They Live."

"Hey, that movie's a classic!" Nightwing said in defence. Since the jig was up, the ghostly facade was no longer warranted, and he deactivated the RCT, and slipped the ring into the front of his tights for safe keeping.

Duela gasped short. But quickly after he materialized, she returned to calm, and started chewing her gum again. "I'm here to chew bubblegum and kiss ass…"
"That's kick ass," he corrected her. "And this ring I took back wasn't yours, it belonged to a friend of mine."

"Your bride-to-be? Yeah, I know. Gotta admit, Grayson. She's a real catch. Women with fiery hair are mysterious. That's why I dyed my hair pink instead of the typical green in tribute to Joker. He's fun, and all, but so is somebody else. Someone who appreciates the real me and shares my passion for what I love to do. A true enigmatic sort of character."

"Who do you mean?"

She waved off his question.

She said: "Jake Handles told me all about you guys, all your secrets. Spared nothing either. But I knew most of it, already. As I'm from an alternative timeline, I already know all your secrets. He's probably told Nygma now, too. They're on their way down to the Batcave. But why tell people your secrets? What fun would that be? Watching your squirm is more fun!"

Nightwing cupped his hips. "Spare me the belief that a criminal has honour? If it suits your purposes, you'd shout secrets from the roof tops. Do you know how difficult it is to keep a secret identity these days with social media?"

He didn't expect an answer, it was rhetorical, but she answered anyway.

"Nothing's secret, and rumours start all the time. Almost nothing is secretive these days. Although, I did just learn that they found hidden passages under Alcatraz from the Civil Wars days. How cool is that?"

"I didn't know that," Nightwing said.

"I came up here to steal some stuff, but I wanted to check up on some guests—two of your bosom buddies: Roy Harper and Jason Todd. I left them up here, all tied up, and I was curious if they were having a little fun-time of their own? But when I checked in on them, they were gone. Too bad, I really wanted to see them squirm. They were the type to do so. Oh, they say no. But in secret, they think what if? Everyone gives off vibes, one way or the other."

The type? Vibes? Does she think Roy and Jason are in a relationship? Oh, that's funny…

Roy Harper and Jason were supposed to be up here, Roy bringing Jason to a guest room to sleep off being drunk, Alfred had said. Nightwing asked Arkells to look for them. Had Arkells found them? And when Duela checked, they had already gone? But where? These questions quickly ran through Nightwing's mind.
He asked what she meant by her insinuation, but she replied it would take too long to flesh out the details.

"Let's just say, people are not always what they appear. But, can I say you have the phat-ist butt I've already seen? And I bet you get that from both female and male admirers alike, eh?"

Nightwing crossed his arms. "I assume you mean slang—as in p-h-a-t?" He knew he had gained a little weight, but not that much. He only had ten more pounds to lose to get to his desired weight. "Kids, and their 'gangster slang' these days. What happened to the good old days when people spoke with respect and with words that actually meant something without ambiguity?"

"New world, Man Slut," she said.

He unfolded his arms and pointed contemptuously. "Hey now! Watch your mouth!"

Just then, and he only saw it out of the corner of his eye, her knee came up, obviously to make contact with his groin. He shifted his weight to the side to avert contact. Only, it appeared to be a distraction from her real ploy, and she slapped him hard across the butt with an open palm.

He recoiled from the hurt. "Ow!"

He put a hand to his rear, then went to grab her with his free hand, but she bolted out of reach.

"Try and catch me, sexy-boy!" Duela said, and then blew him a kiss, running out of the room.

He gave chase, and followed her across the hall. Then all the way down to the main staircase to the foray. Two of Riddler's men tried to stop him, firing at him, but he took them out in quick succession with his escrima sticks and laid them out cold.

Confronting her in the foray, an open space, he walked towards her without fear, gripping his sticks.

She suddenly pulled out her gun that was tucked in her pants behind her back and fired at him. But he dodged every shot and threw an escrima stick at her, hitting the gun out of her hand. It went flying and out of reach. He quickly closed the distance between them before she could get out the front entrance, pinning her against the door.

"That's enough, Duela! Time to give up."

"It's never over until I say it's over."

She then grabbed the sides of his head and kissed him, with her tongue rolling in his mouth, like a full-blown French Kiss. He tried to pull away, but she gripped his hair and wouldn't let him go.

He was finally able to pull himself away, the sheer boldness left him awestruck. Then he felt something in his mouth, and spit out. It was a pinkish, messed up glob. "Your gum, I presume?"

She licked her lips, then the inside of her mouth, openly, her white teeth showing. "Yup, must be, cherry flavour. Best thing you've ever had in your mouth, eh? You're not a bad kisser. You could turn a woman's head. On your head, preferably." She winked.

"As I said to Harley Quinn…when you're in jail, I'll come visit you, and bring a large box of soap to wash your mouth out."

"I would prefer something with a little more protein…"

Momentarily distracted, this time, her knee hit home, but it was not entirely successful in striking his groin. It hit him in the upper pelvic region. It still hurt and he folded over, giving her the freedom to get out from his blockade. But she didn't leave the foray, or run away, she instead remained out in the open, and went for her gun.

She never got the chance to get it.

She had kneed him hard, but it wasn't anything that would incapacitate him. He tossed his other escrima stick at her. The moment she reached for her gun, his escrima stick whacked her in the back of the head, and she dropped like a stone.

Holding his pelvic region she had kneed, he walked over, picking up both his sticks, gripping them firm. He stood over Duela Dent and looked at her from head to toe, then felt her pulse. She was definitely unconscious, but she would have a heck of a headache when she awoke.

He slipped his escrima sticks back into his back holsters, then looked around, and unplugged a lamp from the wall, ripping the cord out. He then tied her hands behind her back. He did the same with the two of Riddler's marauders he laid out cold.

"Sorry, Alfred, looks like we'll need some more lamps in the foray," he said openly.

The next thing he did was take out Riddler's men in the Den. And secured the room. They hadn't moved the people to the Ballroom yet, which was good. He then dragged Duela and the two other men he'd taken out in the foray into the Den.

Then he released Wally, but spoke to him like he was just a normal guest at the party.

"I was wondering when you were going to get here, I woke up fifteen minutes ago," Wally said, in a voice quiet enough for only they could hear. "It's not like I can do what I normally do with all these people around to get out of a situation like this."

"Sorry, had other things to do," Nightwing said.

Wally sat on his butt and rubber his wrists. "Need my help?"

Nightwing nodded. "Yeah, I need you to protect the guests. Damian and Barbara can't do it alone. I can't be sure, but I think they'll need it. I have this dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach that things are only going to get worse before they get better."

Wally frowned. "Why do you always get to be the hero?"

"Because I can."

Wally reached out with a hand, and Nightwing gripped it, helping his friend to his feet.

"Good enough for me, buddy," Wally said. Wally brushed off his clothes. "So, her again, eh?" His remark was directly about Duela Dent, as he looked at her, as she lay out cold on the floor. "You know, she looks kind of cute asleep like that."

Nightwing smirked. "Yup, she's back, and as crazy as ever." Nightwing involuntarily rubbed his rear. "She packs a wallop, too, and she has hard hands. She slapped my butt pretty hard. It still stings."

Wally chucked. "Well, all the girls love your butt, and some of fella's, too. The internet is swarming with remarks about it, on many forums. Your butt has its own fan club." He chuckled again. "Anyway, she done?"

Its own fan club? "Yup," he replied regarding Duela.

"Good, one less psycho to deal with in this den of vipers. Any word on Bruce? I haven't seen him around lately."

"No clue, but I'm on the hunt."

"Cool. You look for him and I'll take care of the guests. From what I hear, the rest are in Ballroom."

"Right," he confirmed.

Wally helped the guests out, informing them all that they were being escorted to the Ballroom, as Nightwing continued his search, leaving Riddler's men and Duela Dent tied up in the Den, and out of trouble's way.

x x x

As Nightwing looked or Bruce Wayne/Batman, Wally West escorted the guests to the Ballroom at the far end of the Manor.

Something nagged at him and he had had a strange feeling all night that someone had been watching him in particular. He didn't need his connection with the Speed Force for a human gut feeling.

This guy had been wandering around the party, Wally noticed, and something had been off about this guest from the very beginning. He had been captured and held hostage like the rest, but he knew something was off about him. And he somehow survived the full effects of the gas, or had prevented himself from feeling its effects.

This guest hadn't engaged in any social circles, hadn't spoken to anyone, and seemed to be watching his surroundings with a keen eye. Like a scout. And Wally wondered if this was the person who had alerted Riddler and his men to the opportunity to strike? It was not uncommon to infiltrate a party like this before an attack took place.

In fact, if he didn't know better, and it had had happened to so fast, that this wasn't the person who had gassed him with a spray canister, when the initial takeover of the Manor began?

Those who attacked the attendees, Riddler's men disguised as guests by some sort of cloaking technology, brought with them spray canisters to render people unconscious and inert, and Wally had been given an extra dose. And he felt he had been targeted purposely. Why? He wasn't quite sure, but unfortunately, he had not been fast enough to prevent it.

That ticked him off a little. The rest of what happened, he had no privy to because he was out cold. But he assumed Riddler came in afterwards as soon as the Manor was secure. A major baddie always instructed orders to his lackey's to do the dirty work before they waltzed in to take all the credit, it was always the way things were done.

They reached the Ballroom, and suddenly the man Wally wondered about, came up behind him, and stuck what appeared to be a hand pistol in his rips, out of the sight of the guests. The man wouldn't stand out in a crowd, he was average looking, and perhaps that's what he wanted. But if Dick Grayson taught him anything, it was to always he a good detective, and observe one's surroundings. He had picked up a lot of good advise from his friend over the years, and yet, what happened still took place.

"Remain calm, and no one will get hurt, West," the man said quietly. "I know you've been watching me, as I've been watching you, at the party, but for the fastest man alive, you were too slow to stop what enviably transpired."

Wally froze, gasped short, but remained calm. He didn't want to panic any of the guests. "And who may you be?" he asked, just as quietly. "You already seem to know who I am, but you have me at a disadvantage."

"Insurance," he said. "Now enter the room slowly, and if you attempt anything, there is a small explosive device in one of the guest's pockets I slipped in without notice while everyone was in the Den, and I will detonate it with extreme prejudice. You should've been removed from the time-differential equation long before things commenced with Dick Grayson—and I expressed my concerns to Jake Handles before he decided to take aim at Nightwing. I even told him that you could be a problem. You Speedsters can be wily."

Wally gasped. This guy knows who I am. Why does this guy's voice sound familiar? "Who are you?"

"I would suggest that you reflect on the situation, and don't project too much worry, or things will not go smoothly for you. With what I can do, it didn't take much to learn what I know with simple effort. I never really thought about it before, but after learning who you really were, I was quite shocked. Such an average looking person you appear like out of costume. Things may have failed when it came to eliminating Dick Grayson, Handles wanted to do so before he started up his sonic device, a device that could manipulate structures and people, creating shockwaves all around the world. Obviously things went awry."

He further said: "In this universe…Jake Handles is the architect for what happened, and you changed things. In a mirror universe—and I've see it, on the outskirts of this one—Dick Grayson was shot through the skull by an assassin's bullet. His memories gone, his life in disarray. All it took was one thing, one alteration with the Speed Force to change things in the past, when you saved that girl from my falling mirrors to change this universe. Lucky for Nightwing, he has a good friend like you to save him, eh?"

The moment Wally entered the Ballroom, he suddenly got a rude awakening.

Every person inside had their hands up, held hostage by about a dozen enemies, all donning the same yellow and green costume, and all holding wide-mouth hand pistols. Mirror Master's trademark weapon of choice.

So, it didn't take a genius to figure who had been the inside man.

Sam Scudder leaned over Wally West's shoulder, pistol jabbing in his rips. "Aren't they handsome? They're all reflections of me. With the help of Jake Handles, my holograms can now become solid with his photo-kinetic technology, and thanks to him, I am able to leave the mirror-verse for a longer periods of time using his PK constructs as a host body. So, now I can have an army of me, moving in-an-out through my mirrors to terrorize the world. And you won't be able to stop me. The little girl you saved from my attack in Central City was lucky, but you won't be so fortunate."

And Scudder fired.

Wally West was no secret agent, or Dick Grayson for that matter, especially when it came to his time as Agent 37. Dick had told him all about it. But he was no slouch either. He wasn't known as the fastest man alive for nothing!

With only a fraction of a nano-second to react, Wally was able to move a super-sonic-speed, after Scudder fired, twirl his body like a dancer—he had some moves, he was told—use his jacket as a catch basin to slow the trajectory of the bullet, pluck it out from mid-air, slipped it in his pocket, and then clocked Scudder in the face with a massive hard right punch, all within the blink of an eye, even faster. To everyone, it would be like a whisk of light, his movements barely noticed, with the Speed Force, to eliminate the threat.

Scudder didn't know what hit him as he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Wally kicked the pistol away from an unconscious Scudder. The moment he was rendered inert, his photo-kinetic constructs disappeared like balloons popping, without their hub.

Wow, that must have been the quickest encounter I've ever had with him, Wally thought. And, come to think of it, quite abrupt. But now I know he was in league with Dick's old Spyral buddy, and who was the one took me out before I could do anything. Pretty smart, actually. The greedy, sob, was probably paid a fortune for his part in this whole affair. He loves money.

Wally brushed his hands as if knocking off dust.

Barbara Gordon came over, looked at the average looking man with brown hair. As Mirror Master, he stood out, but as an average person, he wouldn't be noticed on the street. "Nice work, Wally, you were so fast," she said, smirking. "Is that the real Scudder?"

Wally nudged Scudder with a foot, moving his unconscious body. "Yup, looks like it. I'd Scudder to think he wasn't the real thing. Get it? Scudder, Shutter?"
Barbara rolled her eyes. "And I thought Dick's jokes were bad. But that one was so bad, Wally, it was sad. But nice work."

Damian then came over and glanced down at Scudder.

Hands on hips, he said, "Another rat, eh? The Manor seems to be infested with them recently. Glad he could be exterminated before he could cause too much trouble. Nice work. When Mirror Master's duplicates suddenly appeared, I thought things would get harry. I knew I couldn't do anything. I was able to take out Riddler's men on my own before, but I was able to do it as Damian Wayne and explained to everyone I had been taking Ju-Jitsu lessons to protect myself. I am the son of the prominent wealthy industrialist and philanthropist, after all." He said it with boastful pride. Then: "But this was another matter. We have to stop Handles. Him telling everyone our secrets is starting to become a very bad joke, like a novelist who reveals the identities of secret characters only for the bad guys to get into situations to eventually cause them to lose their memories of events; that's just poor writing."

"No, Damian, it's calling engaging the reader," Barbara said. "You may not like it, but a lot of writer's do it. Is it cliche? Perhaps? But the method entices the reader, wondering how the hero will get out of a sticky situation. I'm a writer in my spare time, so I know about it. I enjoy writing a little erotica from time to time to 'entice' Dick. He loves my stories."

"You write erotica?" Wally said.

Damian nodded. "Yes, she does, and it's not half bad. She has an account on a writing forum I often visit." Barbara gave him a strange look. Damian shrugged. "I'm thirteen, 'nuff said. And I like good literature."

Barbara smiled appreciatively.

Wally smiled. "Send me the link, okay?"

Wally then cleared his throat. He noticed some of the guests were getting a little too close to hear their private conversation.

"You're welcome, little man," Wally then said audibly, loud enough for them to hear—as if responding to a thank-you from Damian for saving everyone. Damian looked bewildered. "All in a day's work. I'm not only a pretty face, you know." He cupped his hips, but then dropped them. It was a narcissistic trademark of The Flash, and sometimes he forgot about it when he was dressed normally. "I learned a lot from my Uncle Barry in the Central City Police Department, so defensive training is only second nature."

Damian scoffed, knowing what Wally just did. "I hate you, West," he muttered contemptuously under his breath. "I'm thirteen and average for my height. Both you and Grayson are so annoying. One day, I'll be taller than the both of you! I swear!"

"Well, good for you. Think big!" Wally then leaned down, and he said, under his breath: "And you'll annoying, too, Little Damian Wayne. Shelf the attitude, or you'll find yourself in a very embarrassing situation at school one day, and you'll be too slow to respond. They don't do it much these days, but your underwear and a flag pole, during gym class. You do the equation."

Damian growled under his breath. "Just try it," he said.

After further discussion on the events that had unfolded, spare revealing any delicate information, but enough to understand where they stood in a public audience, West helped Barbara and Damian settle the guests down. And they were all told once Batman and others had secured the situation, only then would it be safe for people to depart the Manor.

"Until then, folks," Wally then said. "Sit down and think encouraging thoughts. This should all be over soon. Perhaps we can have a little dance-off to pass the time? Some old fashion break-dancing, perhaps? We are in the Ballroom, after all." But no one laughed at Wally's attempt at humour to defuse a tense situation. "Wow, touch crowd."

He would later ask everyone to empty their pockets, but no explosive device was found. Scudder had bluffed.

To be continued...