Terry slammed a fist into the cave wall.
"Calm down. There's nothing you can do for him there. He's already under the best care. The only thing sitting by his bedside will do is take Batman away from the city."
"I know, slag it. Doesn't mean I have to like it."
Bruce Wayne turned in his chair in front of the Batcave's supercomputer. He looked Terry over. The young Batman was suited up except for his mask, but he was still acting like a punk kid rather the protector of Gotham.
"Anger is only useful if you channel it."
"Then give me something to punch. That's why you called me in here isn't it?" Terry was shouting; the words echoing off the stone walls.
Bruce scowled but typed a command into the computer. The Batwing responded, prepping its engines and sliding open its cockpit. "The cops have moved their forces into the narrows to deal with the extra gang activity which means the docks are going to be undermanned."
Terry pulled on his mask. He was grumbling but he went. Bruce watched him fly away and almost felt sorry for anyone trying to smuggle anything into Gotham tonight.
With one of the Mcguinnis boys taken care of, Bruce looked in on the other. There was no real change in Matt's condition. The spores they had found in his lungs were slowly starving him of air and, in less than fourteen days, it would kill him; even with the oxygen he was administered.
Spores. There was something about that, but he had already downloaded a genetic signature along with everything else the doctors had and a cross-reference had come up empty. This wasn't something left over from Poison Ivy or any of the other plant-based supervillains he'd faced. Ivy was the closest but nearly every plant in Gotham bore her manipulative signature to some extent.
This wasn't her though, he'd checked. Ivy had died a decade ago, and there was no sign she'd been resurrected.
Bruce widened his net, looking for any correlation to the case. The deep data mining the supercomputer was capable of didn't have the intuitive nature of his own mind but it had access to a lot of information.
What it came up with were parallel cases. Asthma cases that bore all the symptoms but hadn't been flagged because the patients had been from poorer neighborhoods and couldn't afford more than to stop in at a free clinic. It was only two dozen people so far; all young, Matt's age or elderly and at risk in other ways.
He steepled his fingers and had the computer pull up the files. They were sparse in some cases missing entirely and in most the doctors had been careless. They had seen what they expected rather than doing the proper tests, but in two cases the tests had been run and the spores had been apparent. The doctors had marked them as unknown particles and were awaiting further data.
Bruce sent out an ambiguously worded memo to all the doctors working on Matt's case, as well as the heads of the appropriate departments. He attached the files of the two children who had shown definite sign of infection, along with the rest of the names that his system had red-flagged. The memo would come from one of the temporary logins at the free clinics but it would have all the appropriate tags to get set as a high priority.
Tracking down those affected and working to create an antidote was something better left to professionals who could give it their full attention, that was why Bruce kept them around. He suspected however that they would need the source before a true vaccine could be synthesized and that was something he could move forward on.
Brian pulled himself in tighter. Trying to fit his legs into the little dry spot he'd found. The rain was coming down, not hard but soaking, and every time he coughed, his body spasmed. His pants were already damp all the way through from the water he kept kicking up. He'd managed to grab a decent jacket at the last charity thing he'd gone to, but his jeans were threadbare enough that goosebumps rose on his legs. It would take hours for them to dry out even if he had an actual room for the night.
When the crash of a broken bottle came from the other end of the cramped alley, he held his breath, praying whoever it was would go away again. No such luck.
The guy was another of the city's dregs. Probably didn't own anything but what he was wearing and the bottle he was swigging from. He was probably out looking for a spot out of the rain, and Brian had the only one around.
Another wave of wracking coughs made his attempt at hiding pointless. It felt like there were vines burrowing into his blood and squeezing his lungs. He sucked in a breath. His vision started swimming; the yellow light that was filtering into the alley turned green.
The man had heard him stumbled forward, growling and grumbling. He saw the nook where Brian was sitting over a vent that sent heat up from the subway. Kicking at Brian, the drunk took another swig from his bottle and tossed it aside, empty.
Brian tried to pull himself out of the way, not willing to give up his spot without as much of a struggle as he could put up. The guy bent, pawing at Brian, trying to drag him out of the way, and Brian pushed back.
His hand hit the man's chest, fingers clawing at the cotton. He felt the fibers twist together. There was the smell of cheap cigarettes, the old damp wood of the packing crates stacked against one wall and mold, and moss clinging to the city, just like he was. Still alive. Still. Alive.
Brian twisted and pushed.
The man stumbled back, crying out before gasping. He hacked up one cough, harsher than anything, Brian had been subject to. The air really was green now, coming up through the vent and climbing the walls of the cramped space. The man struggled for breath, falling to his knees. His next cough sprayed blood through the air and down his front. He collapsed, shuddering one last time before he went still.
Brian pulled in a breath full of green and felt his lungs ease. He was light-headed almost giddy now that he could breathe again. The man's blood slowly pooled around his lifeless face. Brilliant red, and green all around him. Like the rose….
For six weeks, Ian Hawk had officially been part of the Gotham Major Crimes Unit, also known as Commissioner Barbara Gordon's personal task force. When he'd first been reassigned and giving a new partner, he had expected more explosions. After all, explosions and torture were what had gotten him promoted, well, that and catching the eye of Robin.
When the young hero had first approached him he had assumed his life expectancy had dropped to hours. In the end, it had been a close thing. Of course, Robin had vanished after that fiasco and hadn't resurfaced since so what that said for Ian's career he didn't know.
As it turned out his expectations had been a bit off. It was true that the MCU handled everything from super villains to doomsday devices to coordinating with the Justice League, but they also handled all the weird stuff that fell through the departmental cracks. For example, the gang unit was pulling all the strings they could because crime was up two hundred percent over last year. And here he was staking out the Gotham Museum of Modern Art because the ambassador from Peru had donated several pieces to the collection and wanted a private showing.
Jai West, Ian's new partner, didn't seem to mind getting stuck with all the boring jobs along with the new guy. Jai didn't seem to mind anything. To him, the world was one big constant joke. Ian didn't know if he should find it annoying or refreshing.
Museum security crackled onto the radio. "Looks like the Ambassador's about done for the night. He and his date are heading to the North exit and his car's being brought around."
"Thanks for the update guys" Jai answered. "We'll make sure he gets back to his hotel, thanks for all your hard work. Now go get some sleep."
"Yeah, you know it."
Jai started up the car and moved to shadow the ambassador's vehicle. "Well, that was fast. Guess he just wanted to show off a bit huh?"
The ambassador had been in the museum for less than two hours. Ian shrugged. "Guess so. It makes our job easier though."
"You know if you keep expecting every assignment to blow up in your face the stress will drive you crazy. You've got to live in the moment, relax a little. Go get a drink every once in a while."
Ian laughed. "Maybe next time. I think tonight I'll just stay in with my girl."
"Well, that certainly works too. Tell her hi for me." Ian nodded and they turned onto upper ninth. The ambassador's car was just pulling in to the hotel when the call came in. A wide frequency burst across all the channels requesting immediate response from the nearest unit.
Ian pulled up the passenger side console and checked the feed. The threat was code GI-441: a threat to city infrastructure.
"Someone's broken into the air and water filtration plant for the lower levels. The facility on seventh and Pine. The first alert went out to the security firm eleven minutes ago, and now the safeguards are registering at 40% - no 45% failure," Ian reported.
Jai was already turning the car around. "Eight blocks, call it in. ETA six minutes."