I do not own, nor did I create Bruce Wayne, Mercy Graves, Paula Crock/Huntress, or Lawrence Crock/Sportsmaster. I did first write Malachi.

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

Bruce looked up, with Malachi, who seemed unharmed. He stared at the man in a third helicopter. The man yelled back to him. "The sniper was ours. If he missed, Amanda Waller will have a fit!"

After a helicopter ride, he and Malachi seemed to have landed outside the camp he had left to start his mission after gaining Waller's permission. They had about an hour to go until Waller had said she'd blanket bomb the leader's basecamp.

Bruce strode toward the camp, Malachi trailing him trying to stay closer to his back than the sides of the members of their escort. Bruce scanned the area. It seemed a lot busier than before.

Men knelt glaring with their hands bound behind their backs, while better fed, cleaner and well-equipped men who otherwise looked relatively similar stood over or near or between them with guns at the ready. The bound men turned their dark stares upon him and Malachi as they passed. Further in, cots with very thin men and boys lying in them were set up. A just-noticeable twitch flashed across Bruce's features momentarily.

"Don't worry …"

Bruce turned to see Amanda Waller standing in his way. She grinned, a cold, pleased expression. "Our medics say they will be fine. They just need to sleep the drug off a little longer. The drips are for their nutrition. Living off grid in the jungle isn't wonderful for anyone's health. Survival training and guerilla warfare are not preferred exercises and strategies for most."

She turned and began to walk away. He followed her. She continued to talk to him. "You also don't need to worry about this getting out. The drugs seem to have an effect on memory too …"

She turned to give him another dark grin. He didn't return it, just kept meeting her gaze. She continued. "There seems to be a fifteen to thirty-minute gap in their memories before they ate the candy. Most of them asked us 'what candy' when we interrogated them. If we hadn't found some still clutched and melting in lax hands 'we' might have wondered if that was really how you did it. The cannisters of gas were a nice touch." She laughed. "That 'soda' is one of my men's favorite brands too."

"It's fairly popular across the planet."

"Indeed, especially if you don't have access to it or its competition."

Bruce kept looking about before turning his gaze back to her. "Where are the four, I left in charge?"

Waller stopped and looked back to Malachi for a moment who'd remained silent behind him. "Why don't we talk in my tent alone for a moment?"

Bruce tilted his head down to indicate Malachi. "Where will he be?"

"Doesn't matter to me as long as he doesn't leave camp. I believe there is some food being cooked near its' center."

Malachi's brows and the corners of his mouth rose slightly, but he still looked to Bruce while otherwise standing still. Bruce gave him a slight smile. "Go. Follow your nose. Be polite. Like she said, 'don't leave camp.'"

Malachi grinned. "I won't sir!" He turned and left lifting his nose as commanded.

Bruce grinned after him, the first relaxed grin he'd really given since hearing of the attack on his parent's school. Waller smiled after Malachi too. "You inspire respect, even love and obedience, from others even shortly after they meet you."

Bruce's grin disappeared when he turned to her. "Where are the four boys I left in charge at the leader's camp?"

She looked to him and said. "They're safe. Already fed. Come in."

He followed her into the tent. Its interior was much darker and the air stiller and staler than what they had experienced just outside. The walls seemed extremely thick for a tent in the surrounding climate. She sat down behind the same mobile desk she had before, folded her hands on it, and looked up at him with a smile. "You succeeded."

He nodded refusing to sit down this time. "What about Alfred and …"

"They're also safe and fed, but you aren't listening. You actually managed to pull this scheme off, even when everything didn't go according to plan. You even managed it with no fatalities … on 'either' side."

He nodded. She frowned and looked down. "Unfortunately, we didn't learn who was behind it until after you'd left. We intercepted their signals to set up the trade in the clearing an hour after your departure. We got one of our own up to spy on the meeting and possibly take a shot. Our agent was surprised to see you there."

"Did you catch them?"

"No. If we did, they would probably have killed themselves."

Bruce's eyebrows rose. Waller stared at him and shrugged. "Every time we get near someone, we hope can lead us to 'The Investor,' they do that even when we think we've taken enough precautions they won't know they've been followed."

"The Investor?"

"That's what he's called. He gives money, weapons, and other supplies to smaller time warlords, cartel leaders, ect. They take it, 'invest it,' and he sends someone to 'collect' on his investment. Quite often, he then leaves them high and dry, when we or others catch up, or the competition strikes back. Sometimes, he makes larger and longer-term investments. Considering what the prize was this time we were fairly certain this one was to be short-term. If we hadn't gotten them, or rather 'you,' he might have taken them out himself."

"It seemed like a 'she' to me."

"That was just his head of collections with two of his favorite enforcers. In communications we've cut in on, they're called 'Attribute of God,' 'Sportsmaster,' and 'Huntress.'"

"You've got to be kidding ..."

"I'm not."

"How long?"

"About ten years, we think. They want us to know about them, somewhat. They want their reputation out in the international underworld. The Sportsmaster and Huntress have quite a few notches on their belts together. He had some of his before she appeared. Then they teamed up. We believe we know 'his' real name: Lawrence Crock."

Bruce stiffened and stared at her, yet, it made sense. Waller nodded. "Yes, that Lawrence Crock: one-time Olympic champion of several events for the United States before the cheating scandal broke. We think the "investor" reached out and invested in him shortly thereafter. He dropped off the grid before the public got tired of chewing him out. The woman, "Huntress" we're less sure about. If she was who we think, she wasn't as public a figure as Mr. Crock."

"Was?"

"They're owned by the investor now. They become whoever he tells them they to be. 'God's Attribute' we have even less on. She tends to execute those who see her face up close herself with the gun she almost killed you with today. She might have been ready to eliminate the leader himself at that meeting in the clearing if you hadn't gotten to him first."

"Then why?"

"Do any take them up on their offers? Like I said, sometimes it leads to long-term investment relationships. Exchanges can be made in a variety of ways. Face to face is not always necessary. Today they expected us to wipe out all evidence of their involvement for them. The weapons they bought and equipped this army with were bought with wired money from hard to track accounts from third-party suppliers."

"What was the pay off?"

"Red diamonds."

Bruce's brows rose. Waller looked back at him understandably. "Apparently there's a mine on the land "The Leader" comes from. How good of one, we'll have to wait and see."

Bruce's brow furrowed. "A new mine could cause the value of the red diamonds already in private collections or in circulation to …"

"'Would' have caused their prices to plummet … immensely. But sell a few here, there, in dark, back room sales to those who won't immediately contact each other about their new acquisitions you could make a lot off gems now worth far less than they used to be. At least, you could do that before their brothers and sisters were discovered, cleaned, and cut."

"And if the mine itself were lost …"

Waller shrugged. "He's good. He's played this game a long time."

. . .

Their handler stood over her, glaring. Paula refused to look up at her. The other woman spoke anyway. "What. Were. You. Thinking?"

Paula murmured back the bitterness clear in her tone. "It was only a child you aimed at!"

"It was a witness. Besides, you knew what the mission was. Boost them up for a little bit, get them to dig up a few gems, then let Waller blow them to oblivion." Mercy held out a small handful of dark, blood-red diamonds. "Now … we only have these to present the boss with and soon, everyone will know there's a brand-new diamond mine that might just be 'full' of these. Their price will drop like a plane with engine problems! Our boss will have to unload what we have fast." Mercy Graves put the handful back in her pocket while staring daggers at her underling. "You'll be lucky if the boss keeps you alive."

"Don't worry, Honey!"

Paula spun toward the loud, gravelly voice with a hint of dark humor. She met her husband's cold gaze. He smiled at her. "I'll take care of the kids."

"Oh, and by the way," Paula spun back to look back up at Mercy who was smiling darkly down herself. "The boss said, 'Next time you spare someone else's kid, he'll be contacting those he has watching yours, personally.'"

Paula stared at Mercy who seemed turned to stone. Mercy gave her another sharp grin and then turned and strode away. Paula hugged her legs to herself and bowed her head.

. . .

Years later, Madge accompanied Alfred back downstairs. In the kitchen, she sat beside the woman who'd suggested art classes. Madge grabbed her teacup and turned to the woman, head held high. "So, what's the deal?"

Elizabeth smiled. She likewise moved her chair to face the younger woman before replying. "You work in my house for six months, living there. Rent and other living expenses will be provided. You'll also receive a small salary, a detail we can continue working out once we've finished and you've spoken to Lucius."

"Talked to who?"

Elizabeth waved her hand, "A man my nephew would be very cross if I put our deal in writing without you speaking to, and getting his input and blessing from, first."

Madge stared at her wide-eyed and grin gone, but not moving from her chair and toward the door yet. "Okaaaaaaay …"

"Anyway, I'll also bring private art tutors to the house to teach you and help you hone your preferred craft. You'll pay no money upfront. It'll be an 'investment.' If you later should be employed in such a way as to use those newly honed art skills or sell your artwork on the market, I will get 5% of your yearly profits for the next 5 years. I may extend this contract to up to 10 years giving you, or a third party, the option of buying me out of it by paying back all my expenses in training you plus a ten percent profit on my original investment. Deal?"

Madge looked to Alfred. He raised his eyebrows and looked back at her in silence. Madge then grinned, leaned back in her chair, and put her teacup in her lap. She drawled … "Keep talking …"

What do you think?

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes