I do not own, nor did I create, Bruce Wayne, Mercy, Huntress, or Sportsmaster. I did create Malachi.

I wish to make no money from writing and posting this, only bring delight to my readers, so please read and enjoy.

Bruce followed Malachi through the jungle. He noticed the boy's eyes also scanned the area before them. Bruce's ears strained to hear every sound from ahead, behind, and either side. He kept his knife unsheathed in one hand, and a naked machete he'd taken from the camp in his other. Malachi, striding ahead, seemed unarmed. Bruce wondered if he should have allowed that. If they were attacked, he'd have to defend himself and the boy.

Finally, the youth stopped, squatted, and pointed forward. Bruce bent his own back further as he came up beside Malachi. Then he could see it too. A wide clearing lay spread before them from which you could see the two mountains flanking the area. Bruce squatted down in the undergrowth beside the youth and together they waited.

The sun hadn't changed position before they heard chopper blades slicing through the air soft at first but then growing steadily harder and clearer. He and Malachi's forms went from still to frozen while the sound approached them. They saw the bird of metal descend into the grass of the clearing. It bent the blades down beneath it before it touched the ground.

The blades slowed above it. Then the door facing Bruce and Malachi still hidden in the undergrowth slid aside. A woman stepped out of the helicopter. In matters of physical appearance, she was extremely different from the last woman Bruce had seen step out of a helicopter.

This woman was about 5 feet 5 inches tall, slender to the point Bruce wondered if she was anorexic. She seemed dressed for a board meeting rather than a walk in the jungle. She must mean for those she'd come to meet to come to her and feel her cleanliness and luxury compared to the dirt and grime they'd gained through jungle warfare.

She wore a white blouse, feminine and clean-cut from what he saw of it, beneath a navy-blue jacket. A skirt matching the jacket fell to her knees. She also wore tights and navy-blue shoes that had only a slight heel. Perhaps then, she had some common sense.

Her bright, blonde hair was fixed up in a tight bun. Bruce smiled at the memory of Amanda Waller's being worn the same way. Perhaps that was how all women who wanted long hair, and to be taken seriously, wore it. It did give them both an elegant "and" severe look.

This woman's skin was extremely fair. So, apparently, she didn't believe in tanning or labor under the sun unless she came from a clouded climate far from the equator they were now near indeed. Her head swiveled back and forth as her eyes took in the terrain. She was not close enough for him to see their color. Her movements were conservative only what it took to get the job done. Her stance was still and tight.

Another figure stepped into the doorway of the helicopter. Bruce's eyes widened. The form he saw filled the whole doorway. A man jumped out to land at the woman's right. Then he slowly straightened. He was 6 feet 6 inches at least. He might even have been naturally been 6 feet 8 inches, but it could also have been the combat boots he wore.

The matching coloring of their face and skin was the only thing the man from the helicopter noticeably shared with the woman beside him. His wide shoulders, bulging muscles, and the way he towered over the woman made him seem three to four times her size. He looked like he could break her in half, but Bruce noticed how the man's eyes seemed to scan the area around her and him, and the way he stood just a few feet from her side. He seemed her protector. And she seemed well protected.

The other man's outfit was better suited to the environment, and yet still outrageous. The shirt and pants had a jungle camouflage pattern. Over the shirt, he wore a bullet-proof vest. Around his waist he wore a belt with a … discus in one of its holders, specially made to rest over his hip. Peaking over his head, likely resting in holder strapped to his back was a javelin. Over his face the man wore a mask the like of which protected the faces of those guarding hockey nets or the home plates. Bruce stared so hard at the man he almost missed the last figure who stepped out of the helicopter.

She seemed like a mixture of both figures, yet unlike either of them. She was less muscled than the man, more so than the first woman. The first woman's dark jacket could be hiding bulging arm muscles, but Bruce thought even from his distant perspective it clung too tightly to her for that.

This second woman's arms were bare seemingly to show off the biceps and triceps bulging from them. Her legs, wrists, and hands were guarded by thick pants, gloves, and arm-guards. From her belt hung a pair of bolas. On her right hip rested a knife-sheath with a hilt protruding from it. Bruce even saw a blowpipe sticking through a loop in her belt. In her right hand, she held a loaded crossbow.

This second woman also wore a bullet-proof-vest and mask, though it only wrapped around the upper two-third of her face leaving a pair of lips and her chin exposed. Parts of her outfit were either tan or black: the colors of the coats of the great cats of Africa and Asia. Her mask had cat-ear like projections on either side of her head too. Her hair was jet-black. Her skin-tone made her look Asian from his standpoint. He'd have to get closer to be certain. Her eyes also scanned the area. Bruce shook his head. If they could use even half those weapons, he thought it a real possibility he was outmatched by them. He watched.

Over the following minutes, the first woman's face crease in frustration. She began to speak in low tones to the others. They seemed to reply. He couldn't be sure about the man since he couldn't see his mouth. The creases in the first woman's face grew deeper and deeper.

Bruce reached into his bag sitting open in front of him and took out a mask that would cover all his face and neck and gloves which would cover his hands. Finally, he put on a pair of sunglasses over the mask to cover his eyes. After putting these on, he waited until the woman who seemed to have stepped out of a boardroom turned and began to step up into the helicopter again.

Then Bruce rose to his feet and whispered to Malachi, "Stay here." He stepped out of the undergrowth and strode to the helicopter. Malachi remained still and silent behind him.

The three before him turned their stares upon Bruce. The woman in office attire turned back and stepped his direction. She put her back up, straightening, stiffening, and frowning upwards. Her narrowed eyes fixed upon his covered face. Her lips, shiny with protective gloss, pursed. She said not a word.

The other two people at her sides also stared at him. They shifted a little closer to her. Their bland facial expressions did not change, however. This didn't fool Bruce. He saw their hands go to their weapons.

Bruce walked up until he was within a few steps of them, his own pale skin and eyes entirely covered, and spoke in the language of the tribe the "leader" and his first followers had been from. Roughly translated he said, "My leader has been caught up in a matter only he can handle. He's sent me to do his work here."

The first woman off the helicopter frowned even deeper at him. She spoke in the same language with only a hint of an American accent. "Tell your 'leader,' my 'boss' (here she used the American word) will not be pleased to realize any matter is more important to your leader than meeting with his representative to discuss the terms of their agreement and how it will be further carried. Where are the offerings your leader was supposed to bring to this meeting?"

Bruce tried to keep his stance only slightly tight and nervous as the character he played would be and not to hesitate too long in delivering his answer. "I fear we were unable to attain them. Could you give us more time?"

"Put some you capture to work digging out more gems! My boss will not like investing in you and receiving nothing in return for months on end! He can empower someone else to oversee operations here and rule this country as his ally. He has not given you the best at his disposal to conquer this land, only what you needed to defeat what enemies stood against you. He can easily defeat you with his best like stepping on a bug. And take off the mask and sunglasses! What do you mean attempting to hide your face and eyes from me?"

Bruce paused and thought. If he did so, they would immediately know him for a fraud. Yet, this woman was angry. He wanted to keep her talking, but perhaps he could explain himself and gage how deep and permanently this relationship truly ran. "I have a rash and my eyes weep slightly with sickness. I do not wish to spread either to you, representative of my leader's greatest ally. In fact, that is why my leader sent me to meet with you here today. I am the most well in the army this hour and was thus chosen for this task. We need medical care and supplies in order to continue doing your boss' will here. Then we will be able to dig out more gems for your boss."

The woman paused. Her fair skin paled further a moment as she stepped back from him looking up into his covered eyes. Then her own narrowed again as she met his shielded stare. "Your leader said nothing of this to me, when we spoke on the radio just hours ago."

The lady in the outfit that made her slightly resemble a great cat also narrowed her eyes at him. She leaned forward. Her nostrils twitched. Her own eyes widened. She swiveled backwards and pointed her crossbow at him. "He smells well enough and 'not' like he has been living in this place long!" She could not back up enough from him to both aim her weapon and keep it out of his reach, though, without running into the helicopter.

Bruce's arm flashed out and knocked her crossbow out of her hand. He then turned and grabbed the javelin being jabbed at his neck by the man. He thrust it aside and used it to pull closer the man, who refused to let it go. He punched at the man's throat. The blow was blocked. The man then refused to release Bruce's fist. They circled together gazes locked.

The woman in the big-cat outfit pounced on her crossbow lying in the grass. She turned back, raising it and circled them herself to aim at Bruce's back. Bruce kept his gaze on his current opponent.

Then a shout pulled his attention away. Malachi had seen the crossbow reclaimed. "Watch out!"

Bruce glanced over his shoulder. Malachi stood up above the bushes waving his arms and then pointing toward the woman with the crossbow. Bruce shouted, "Get down," but too late.

From the corner of his eye, Bruce saw two things. The blonde woman pulled a gun from a holster hidden in the small of her back beneath her blouse and jacket. Then she pointed it toward Malachi.

The woman with the crossbow, though, lowered it, pivoted on her heel, raised a leg, and kicked the other woman's gun hand. The bullet flew wild. The blonde woman turned a glare on her. Malachi disappeared.

The man trying to spear Bruce also turned his gaze upon his fellow enforcer. His enemy's attention broken, Bruce shifted slightly and shoved from another angle. Both men went down and rolled. The women trained their weapons on them, but neither fired. Then the blonde man pinned Bruce.

Bruce heard whispered words above him. He recognized the language as Vietnamese but focused too much on breaking the hold the other man had him in to translate it. Then the woman in the dark jacket, blouse, and navy-blue skirt appeared above him. He met her gaze. She trained her gun between his eyes.

Her own were grey, he now realized, like his, and cold. Her expression was bland. Her tone almost sounded bored. "I don't know who you are, but you'll never tell anyone about me, or the plans we spoke of."

He answered her in English. "The one's your 'boss' sent you to speak of you mean."

She smiled, a turning up of her glossed lips that failed to hide the faint furrows of frustration between her eyes and across her forehead. Her voice was also a mixture of amusement and tightness. "As I already stated."

She pulled back the safety. Then the sound of chopper blades broke the silence. Her face creased in and mouth grimaced in disgust. She spat out a dirty word through shining, smooth lips and shining white teeth.

A gruff, but out-of-breath voice came from the man still hovering over Bruce. He shook now with the exertion of continuing to match Bruce strength for strength to hold him down. "Just get it done, so we can pull out!"

The blonde woman began to pull the trigger. Then a shot rang through the air, but not from her gun. She shrieked.

Bruce saw blood appear in her hair on the side of her head. Before it could drip down her face, the other woman shoved his would-be-killer back into the chopper through its still-open door and then jumped after her. The man above Bruce released him, leapt to his feet, and dove after the women. Then he shut the door.

Bruce turned over onto his hands and knees before moving low through the grass away from their helicopter before it took off. As he reached the undergrowth Malachi lay behind, another chopper landed in the clearing. Bruce glanced back to see its door slide aside. He recognized the vehicle of the sky.

Another man, this one with dark skin over bulging muscles stood in its doorway and called to him. "Mr. Wayne! Amanda Waller waits for your arrival at base camp! She said for me to tell you, 'Good work!'"

So, what did you think?

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes