"She'll be stronger than me. She'll need you to keep her safe, guide her, do what I can't," said the woman, looking down at the baby in her arms.
The young man before her nodded and gently lifted the baby from her arms. "How long do you have?"
She looked to the sky, her eyes reflecting the stars. "She's calling. It's time."
Two. Escape
It was the jolt that tore me from the haze. My head throbbed with response, a hard pulse behind my eye. With a groan I tried to force my eyes open but it was like they were glued shut, defiant to my every will. Forcing myself to relax I strained to make sense of the sounds around me; the soft hum of a radio, though I didn't recognise the channel; the mechanical whir of an engine, a small van by the sounds of it; the squeak of metal with each jolt, which sounded like it was coming from beneath me. There was also the distinct bleach smell clinging to the air, soaking into my skin. Clearly, whoever had me, had cleaned recently.
I dragged in a deep breath. Despite the smell there seemed to be no drugs in the air to knock me out and, given what my body was likely trying to force out, fresh air couldn't hurt. Time would cure it, though. I only hoped I could clear my head before I got to wherever I was being taken…Yet if I escaped then I could lose the chance if, whoever had me, had taken my team, too. However, there was a great chance of being stuck in a cell without a viable escape, likely drugged – well, I'd have someone like me drugged. So I resolved in my mind and tried to open my eyes again; slowly, but surely, light crept in through a tiny slit. It was blinding. I slammed my eyes shut, feeling the sting of the light. The lingering burn made the ache in my head thump harder, causing me to wince.
Nearby, I heard the radio crackle again; this time, a voice bled through, muffled, as if from the front seat – if I was right about being in a van. "V-2, are you on route?"
"Affirmative, Central. On route. Time to arrival, two hours. V-2 out."
"Acknowledged."
The radio died. Dammit. I'd hoped for a little more than two hours. Whatever had been done to be was fading but I had no way to know if two hours was enough to escape. If I even had enough strength to fight when I got out, if it came down to it. If I did, I wanted to be strong enough to make this prick sing like a canary.
Focus, Ava. You've been trained for this.
Which was true. I'd been trained endlessly for this stuff. I'd trained to survive, to win. There was no way I was going to lose, to allow myself to stay a prisoner.
Again, I forced my eyes open, gritting my teeth to the throbbing agony as light burned my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to howl with anger and pain but I held firm, not even uttering a word. With each breath my strength slowly returned to me, dribbling back with agonising slowness. It gave me a sliver of hope. I forced my eyes to stay open, biting back a hiss of pain. The world, still too bright to make sense of, seemed to tilt and roll, and the smell of bleach grew stronger. Even the sounds grew louder and louder, almost too much to bear. It made me want to slam my eyes shut, pretend it was all some big nightmare. If I did that, if I didn't get out, I risked falling into someone else's little experiment and I was no pawn of anyone. Hell or high water, I was getting out and someone was going to wish they were dead. Or multiple people. I wasn't feeling very merciful.
It felt like an eternity as the bright world slowly dimmed, shapes and details slowly appearing. The cracked vinyl of the seat before me; the harsh row of lights above; the back door; the tiny window looking into the front seat. From where I sat I could see the night sky, clear and bright, but no distinct land markings and no signs. It was even too hard to see the stars properly, to use them to orientate myself. Though I knew I was two hours away from my supposed destination that offered very little, since I had little indication of how long I'd been out for. For all I knew I was in another country.
I looked about but found my head restricted, strapped down, and there was a mask over the bottom half of my face. There was straps around my hands, across my chest and stomach, as well as my ankles to. Luckily, my hands weren't pressed flat. Big mistake kiddies. I snapped my fingers, summoning up a small sphere of energy. Closing my eyes I fed it, made it grow and grow and grow. The energy surged inside of me, relishing at the freedom. At me shattering the carefully built walls and slashing the chains that kept my power in check.
The energy inside me exploded.
I laughed as the world was consumed by it.
"You sure it's a good idea for you to be back at work?" Tim Drake asked as they sparred, sounding a little more wary than Bart liked.
Like he was fragile. Or he'd snap. He wasn't but that didn't stop people from walking on egg shells around him. Mags had left. They all knew. He didn't hide it, didn't want to dwell on it or think about where he'd screwed up so badly that he'd made her leave him. Just as he asked her to marry him. Geez, at what point had they left the same page? They'd somehow ended up on completely different books.
Shaking his head he drove forward, blurring with speed, driving his fist into Tim's side – or tried to. Tim had spared with him tons of times and effortlessly predicted it, flipping out of the way. He stopped and tilted his head to the side.
"All I'm saying is-"
"I'm good," cut in Bart. "I got dumped, that's all."
"You asked her to marry you and she said no and left. Has she gone back and got her stuff yet?" Tim asked, flying forward with a closed fist.
Bart, reminding himself not to use his speed, leapt to the side and deflected the blow. "She waited until I left for work yesterday, then got everything. When I got back all her stuff, nothing more or less, was gone."
"Rough." Tim was distracted and Bart flipped him over his shoulder.
Scrambling to his feet Tim dashed forward and came at him, fast for someone without super speed. He punched and swept off Bart's blows, then flipped back when the fighting got too close. Bart spun on his heel, just as Tim came for round two, and drove his fist into Tim's side, winding him. Staggering forward, Tim held up a hand and walked over to the nearby table where he gulped down some water. Bart, too, craving a drink, joined him.
"All I'm saying is don't beat yourself up about this too much but if you ever want to talk about it-"
"You're here to listen?" Bart replied. "Isn't that what we're doing?"
Tim shot him a dry look. "Funny but this isn't talking about it when you're dodging what happened."
"My girlfriend left me. It sucks. She didn't say anything before hand and I had no idea she was miserable enough to leave. Just wished she'd said something. Happy?"
Tim shrugged. "Okay, that's enough sparring today. You want to head to the bar, get a drink?"
A drink sounded wonderful. Probably not a wise idea, given what had happened, but Bart just wanted a drink. Something to numb what happened. Make him forget about Mags for a bit, about that smile of hers. Just everything about her.
After they showered and changed they walked down the road to the nearest bar, which was fairly quiet on a Wednesday, humming with soft country music. A couple people sat at the bar, nursing drinks, some more stoically than others. By an old juke box a young couple, barely old enough to drink, giggled together. Behind them, in a booth, a lone girl sat with a drink. She was pretty, in an unassuming sort of way. Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all, he thought as they walked up to the bar, considering how he was going over to say hello. As he ordered his drink he saw a guy come out of the toilets and sit down with her, holding her hand warmly.
"Oh well, plenty of girls out there," consoled Tim. "However…"
Bart glanced at him, one brow lifted faintly. "However?"
"I know you and you're probably going to go out and find the craziest, most wild girl you can. Then it'll blow up in your face. Just be careful, okay?" Tim warned, studying the drinks with mild interest. "You wear your heart on your sleeve with those girls and they've always broken it before."
With a drink in hand Bart didn't feel like replying to that. Mainly because there was too much evidence to argue. Before Mags there had been a steady string of quiet girls, followed by the wildest he encountered. Some lasted a few months. One, a girl named Mel, had lasted a year but she fell in love with an artist and ran away to Paris with him.
"I promise the next girl I date will be normal."
Tim peered at him sceptically. "Want to bet?"
Wally West woke up, his skin slick with sweat. The crystal hung around his neck glowed with a startling heat. His hand fell to it and felt the call. Closing his eyes he sunk back into the bed and let the crystal pull his mind far away, to a dream land of endless fields and a sky with twin moons and a blanket of stars. He took shape and stood there, his bare feet tickled amongst the silk-soft grass, and his skin brushed with a soft midnight breeze.
A familiar feeling tickled his the nape of his neck. He didn't have to turn around to have to know who it was. Barely a breath later a young woman glided beside him, swathed in a gown made of starlight. He smiled when he saw her, an old friend.
"You called, Max," he said, using her mortal name.
The corner of her lips twitched. It had been a long time since she used that name. Earthly names held little point given what she had become. Still, there was enough of her old self in her to smile, to remind him that the old Max wasn't completely gone. Still, as her eyes darkened, there grew a grimness and weariness with an ethereal glow.
"It has been long for you, hasn't it?" She asked, her voice soft and ghostly, threaded with a gentle hum of energy.
He nodded and followed her gaze to the stars. "Twenty years. Ava's grown up. She's become a woman."
Max nodded, though his words hardly seemed to register. "Do you remember what I said to you when I sent you to earth?"
"That 'they' would come for her – is that now?"
She glanced at him; her eerie eyes, once dark and luminous, now shone with the universe within them – a billion trillion galaxies, an endless universe. Looking into her new eyes was enough to send someone mad. Wisely, he looked away. She turned her gaze back to the stars. "Not yet. Soon. Before she can claim her birthright, however, she must prove herself."
A chill snaked down his spine. Prove herself? Though he hadn't mentioned he hadn't seen Ava in the flesh in almost four years, he still got the occasional call. She'd become an intelligent woman, sure, but was she ready to prove herself?
"How do they intend to do that?" He asked, his voice low and wary, refusing to look at Max.
Sometimes it was hard to believe that Max was Ava's mother. Gone was the girl with mortal faults and worries; beside him stood practically a Goddess, a girl who lived in another realm and dealt with matters far above anything he'd ever worried about.
"The gears are already turning. She'll succeed or she won't." Max turned to him. "Promise me you will help her."
With a deep breath and dared to meet her gaze. Her eyes full of stars was gone, replaced with two mortal eyes, full of motherly worry. In a deep breath they dissolved and she fixed her gaze to the distant horizon.
"And if she fails?"
"She dies."
With a snap of her fingers Max dissolved the vision, leaving Wally wide awake back in his house. He pushed himself out of bed, restless and edgy. Curled up in bed Artemis was fast asleep, her hair beautifully askew. Leaning down he kissed her cheek and withdrew, padding his way out into the hallway. He passed by the kid's rooms and checked each of them, found his youngest daughter curled up with her enormous pink teddy; and his teenage son fast asleep, his face in a book. Smiling, he went inn to the kitchen and poured a glass of whiskey. In the dark, with only the thin sliver of moonlight spilling in through the window above the sink, he was alone with his thoughts.
He took a deep sip and sighed. Tomorrow he'd have to set about trying to find Ava and pray she'd listen to him. After their last face to face conversation he wasn't sure. He'd been so sure he was doing right by her, that he'd given her every opportunity. In the end, Ava had cut off communication, citing vague reasons and only answering infrequent calls.
"Wally?" Artemis's voice crackled across the living room, thick with sleep.
Looking up, he smiled as his wife shuffled in, wearing a baggy shirt but looking as beautiful as the day he met her. "Sorry I woke you."
She blinked and frowned. "Bad dream?"
"Do you remember what I told you when I brought Ava home?" Wally said quietly, taking another sip.
Wariness flashed in her eyes. "Max contacted you."
He held up the glass and nodded. "It seems Ava is about to be called home."
"But do they know she's…?"
"No. I didn't mention that. To be honest, I have no idea where she is, what she's doing – I think I should make a few calls, try and track her down," he murmured.
She moved beside him and took the glass from him, finishing it off. Then she took his hand and kissed it, the moonlight catching the faint couple lines that etched her face. She hated them but he loved them, loved every inch of her. Squeezing her hand he tried to take some of her strength, to push away the unease that knotted in his chest. For twenty years he had carefully kept the truth of Ava's heritage, as per Max's strict instructions and despite his desire to tell Dick the truth. Now, if he spoke to too many people, to the wrong person and that truth spilled out…Well, Max had her reasons why she wanted to keep Ava's bloodline a secret, and they were good reasons.
"Twenty years. It's been twenty years – why now?" He asked aloud, staring out the window to the stars beyond.
Beside him Artemis rested her head on his shoulder. "Whatever happens next, I'm with you."
There was the tearing sound of metal, of thunderous crashes and an explosive bang, as the van, half shredded, flipped. Something sharp slashed her cheek, warm blood spraying. Pain lanced through her as the van flipped again and finally rolled to a stop on its side. Gritting my teeth I dragged myself out of the last straps and dropped down. Pain spiked up my legs. I spat out a string of curses as I dragged myself out of the back of the van, tumbling out onto the soft earth. With a deep breath I rolled onto my back, chest heaving, sweat dripping from my brow.
I drew on the remaining pool of energy and siphoned it into my limbs. Immediately the warm glow filled me and the pain dissolved in the next breath. The wounds were still there but they'd heal soon enough – slowly but surely. For now, the pain was gone and any internal bleeding would be over. I slowly but gingerly got to my feet, eyeing the mangled wreck with amusement.
The warbled groan of the driver cut the air, disturbing my thoughts. I made my way around to the front and saw the driver sprawled out on the ground, his leg broken in several places and a dark patch of blood stained his shirt. He was dribbling blood, which he coughed fearfully as he saw me approach.
"Please, please don't hurt me!"
I stood over him, staring down with a cool expression. "Where were you taking me?"
"I-I can't say."
I arched a brow. "Going by that wound you'll be dead shortly. Why not help a girl out?"
He seemed torn and weak from the loss of blood. Wincing, he touched his chest and saw the blood. It was then he realised he really was dying and he looked afraid. A good person might've comforted him, tried to call for help but neither of us had a phone. Looking around it was clear to see we were a good while away from anywhere and the road was dead silent, shrouded in darkness. No rescue was going to come. Well, for him, anyway. I'd slip out before anyone came and be fine.
"To the docks at Gotham. There was a ship, the Carpathia, you were to be loaded onto," he wheezed out.
I put a foot on his leg, causing him to howl in agony. "I was transported alone – why?"
"I-I-I don't know."
Shaking my head I sighed. "Not good enough."
He howled, begging and sobbing. "I don't know!"
"You're going to die and I don't have time for this. My people are good people. They don't deserve whatever is going to happen to them," I said, trying to sound a little more human. It was a lie. My people had broken every law under the sun, some had done things that made normal people crack, and to be honest, they probably deserved 'justice' dealt to them. But they were my family. The ones I trusted and laughed with, the ones I was happy to have at my back, and fought for. When missions got tough or we had our backs against the walls I knew that together we'd get out, and that we'd survive. That's what we all were. Survivors.
He choked on another splutter of blood, writhing in agony. With a deep breath I knelt by his side and set my hand over his mouth. I closed my eyes and summoned a jolt of energy – sending it shooting into his skull. He went limp beneath me. I pulled my hand back and stood, turning to the road.
It would be a long walk. I turned my gaze to the distant horizon and steeled my spine. I'm coming guys. I'll find you and I'll make whoever did this pay. I'll make them wish they were dead.