As Ava bled out on the forest floor, her mouth full of blood and dirt, she stared up at the stars. They glittered above her, clear and bright, and she swore they called out to her. She barked with laughter, blood spluttering onto her chest, when something stirred within her. A response to the stars themselves, something deep within calling back. Panic burst through her.

"You're not having me just yet," she whispered fiercely and slammed her eyes shut, the world bursting to light around her. "I'm not your slave – not now, not ever!"

Chapter 7 Symbiosis

There was a gleam in Ava's eyes. A dangerous kind of gleam, like she had a plan. Bart leant closer, though paused before he spoke as an armed man passed by their group. Once gone, he cleared his throat softly. Ava glanced at him, her eyes void of the gleam, replaced with an unguarded concern – like he was the one afraid, and she was concerned for him. Was this the expression he gave people he saved?

"You okay?"

"Are you?" He asked, reaching for her hand but withdrew when he realised what he was doing. Ava was a friend, an old family friend, not the kind to get involved with. "I'm used to this."

A faint smile touched her lips. "This isn't my first rodeo. I'm fine but these people aren't. I'm not used to being in this position."

"What position?"

She fell silent as someone passed close, lingering. It wasn't the time to talk. Subtly, she leaned forward, her eyes seeming to examine something carefully before she sighed and glanced at him, the man having passed onto another group.

"These guys are idiots to have attacked this place," she whispered.

"Shut up," hissed a young girl next to her.

Ava shot her a frosty look. "Say anything and you won't be walking out of here."

The look in her eyes was enough to silence the girl, enough to leave a quivering look in her eye. Even Bart felt a jolt of wariness in the tone she used. There wasn't any bluff, no pretence behind it. Only brutal honesty. He imagined, if she felt required, she would break something on that girl to make a point. There seemed to be that dark streak in Ava. He tried to tell himself that it hadn't been in the young Ava he'd known. Unfortunately that was a lie. Even as a young girl there had been something different about Ava, a kind of inhumanness about her. A strangeness that wouldn't be defined, that wouldn't be controlled or dictated. She was a hurricane, the fury of the most destructive storms. Unstoppable. Unbound. Wild.

Yet in the next breath her eyes reclaimed that blank calmness. She turned to him. "There has to be a reason why they took this place."

"A statement," finished Bart grimly – there were easier ways to extort money. No, this hostage situation was a statement to someone. That never meant anything good for the hostages.

Ava nodded in agreement, her lips a thin line, saying nothing. She shifted on her haunches, then set down, stretching out her legs. Suddenly, she winced as she rolled her shoulder. Bart watched as she dug her knuckles into the crook of her shoulder, massaging it. She closed her eyes and groaned in relief and pain. As her gaze fluttered open she caught his stare and smiled, a kind of secret and conspiratorial smile. Like she saw something in his stare and liked it.

"An old injury," she explained. "I haven't done much massaging on it lately so it's a bit sore."

He was about to ask when a guy strode over. "Keep it down!"

Ava glanced up, eyes cold and unafraid. She met his gaze, stared him down with a steely gaze. It was unsettling. Even the man had to spit a curse and stalk off, clearly ruffled by her gaze. What was about it that looked so dangerous? At first sight Ava was striking yes but hardly intimidating. A second glance revealed an iron and intelligent gaze, a body firm and muscled, the faint whisper of well-healed wounds. Ghost-like scars. In an instant a forbidden image of Ava's body, scarred and naked, rose before him. He quickly blinked and forced it away, trying to think of safer things.

She scanned the room again, lingering on a man at the far edge of the room. He stood slightly off the main group, his face hidden by a simple half-face black mask, and had two pistols holstered at his hip. It was the way the man looked at the room that struck Bart. Like he wasn't really interested in the hostages or the club. It was like…

"He's waiting for something," murmured Ava, voicing Bart's own thoughts. "I wonder who."

"Barvolli?"

Ava shook her head. "Benny won't show. He doesn't roll like that."

"Familiar with him?"

She glanced at him, measuring. "Rumours and a few meetings with him. I do technically work for him after all."

There was a teasing lilt to her voice. She knew his dislike of Barvolli and was happy to toy with him about it. The gleam in her eyes, a glittering Cheshire smile, sent a sharp jolt through him. Realising he'd leaned in a fraction he pulled back and focused on the men, on finding a way out. He sought Dick across the crowd but the retired hero was examining the room, looking for exits, devising a plan. It was a pain he was so far away but there was no way to get closer, not without arousing suspicion. He could run over but it'd draw too much attention, even if he did it in a blink of an eye. There was too many eyes, too many chances to notice the fact he was sitting far across the room. And if Dick was planning something it was best if he kept attention of Dick and on him, give the guy room to act. That, and he suspected he'd have to stay near Ava, ready to act when she did something – and he rather expected her to do something. And soon. Something dramatic and dangerous, he suspected.

With Ava it couldn't be anything but dangerous. He just wished he knew what was going on in that mind of hers.

"They want what?" Wally asked in disbelief from beneath his Flash uniform.

Bruce studied him for a moment before he answered, acutely aware of the stares of the other senior members on the roof with them. "There are several dead drops around the city. Each have been assigned to collect the item and bring it back here, untampered. If any around found tampered they shoot a hostage. More, if it's been seriously touched. I suspect they'll have some sort of lead to stop Superman looking into any of them. Have a go but do nothing else."

Superman nodded grimly. "I agree. We can't assume these people won't start shooting hostages. Still, this does seem like a strange request."

Bruce exhaled slowly. There was one more thing he had to say but he didn't want to. Some of the others tended to become emotional when certain facts came into play. He didn't want them distracted by getting emotionally invested. It was hard enough for him knowing that Dick was inside, that if the League did one step wrong his old student could end up with a bullet in his head. If he mentioned that Bart, Wally's old ally and friend, and his own adopted daughter, Ava, was inside…He didn't trust Wally not to become emotional and try a rescue. If he did that and they started shooting. Well, Bruce didn't trust himself not to do something to Wally – he wouldn't kill him. He'd leave the League before he did that. But it'd destroy any relationship he had with the League.

He glanced at the club. The club had been chosen well – a little too well. Did this group know of who some of the hostages were to the League? Was it just coincidence or intentional? Instinct nudged him to the latter. He didn't believe in coincidences, not ones so neat as this.

"There are a hundred and fifteen hostages in there. Let's ensure all of them get out tonight," he said, without looking back.

One by one he heard them leave until Wally remained. He knew what Wally was about to ask and that Bruce would have to lie. It was unavoidable. He'd deal with the fallout of the decision later, bearing whatever anger and pain his friend handed out. Willingly and without argument. He certainly wouldn't apologise for it, regardless of whatever Wally had to say on the matter.

"How is she?"

"The same as last time. She's here in Gotham," he said.

Wally froze. "Really?"

Gotham was the closest she'd gone to Central City in five years. Everything else had been at least half a dozen states over – or in another country completely. She'd somehow attained a legal passport on her own and travelled on the money she earned at clubs. To Bruce she never stayed anywhere more than a few months. Half the time however it was like she dropped off the face of the planet. For almost the first two years after she ran off he only found brief traces of her – the occasional picture but nothing concrete. Then she surfaced properly and seemed to flit about the world, moving from job to job.

Bruce nodded. "You better head off. There is an hour to get this done."

"What about you?" Wally asked.

"I have my own meeting. Follow the instructions. If everyone follows the rules we should be done by midnight," said Bruce.

With a nod Wally blurred off. Bruce let out a breath of relief. It was a bullet dodged. Turning his focus to the club he studied from the outside. His gaze traced the roaring twenties exterior. Since it's golden age birth little had changed from the brick façade and the retro signage. He knew from the few times he'd been inside it had been remodelled a dozen times or so to keep up with the times, that Barvolli had purchased the club thirty years ago. That Max, Dick's brief lover, had worked at the same club. It was Dick visited every Friday, staying till close. It was the shift Max had once worked. Bruce had once pushed him to stop going but gave up. When it came down to it Dick could be as stubborn as him.

He dropped down onto the street, feeling the cool air brush against his chin. It swept across the road, stirring up faint flurries of dust and rubbish, tumbling into the gutters like a muddy wave of rubbish. The wind fell dead as he reached the front door. Around him the city seemed to fall dead silent, the distant sounds gone. It was as though the city itself had sucked in a breath and held it, waiting for him to enter, to discover what awaited him within. To learn why he'd been chosen to go inside.

Before his hand brushed the door it opened before him. A bald-headed man awaited him, impassive and unassuming. Heavily armed with a rifle he didn't aim it at Bruce but it sent a message. The others were just as armed.

"Your belt," said the man, one hand out.

Reluctantly, Bruce handed it over, not before he tapped a code on the inside, ensuring that they couldn't access the contents. It wasn't the end of the world. His suit still had some tools he could use and he could fight his way out. Still, he was determined to follow the rules – for now. At the first sure sign of betrayal, which he already expected, he was ready to act.

Satisfied with the belt the man ushered him inside. The fact he wasn't being shoved or hissed orders to behave demonstrated that these guys believed they were in total control. Bruce remained silent as they led him down a dark hallway, lit only by intervals of dim, flickering lights. The man pushed on a final door and led Bruce into the main club floor. Immediately he was struck by all the hostages clustered in small groups about the floor, some quivering in fear, others strangely unruffled by being hostages. The armed men, at least thirty or so – a surprising number – patrolled by the groups, the guns loaded and actioned, ready to shoot. Still, some hostages didn't even to bat an eyelid at this, like it was just another day at work.

He was led over to a booth close to the stage. In the corner of his gaze he saw Dick, who nodded to him that he was okay. As he sat down he glimpsed Bart watching him with surprise. Beside Bart it was Ava who watched him with an intense gaze, like she was making her mind up about him, about what she was going to do. That girl has far too cunning. She had a dark streak in her, a flare for chaos. As a kid she'd been destructive and wild. Looking at her in person for the first time in years he saw that same fire in her eyes, that same stormy spirit.

A moment later he was joined by a masked man, whose exposed mouth twisted into a smile as he sat down. "Hello Batman. So good you could join us. I do trust the others are following the instructions as well? I'd so hate to start shooting hostages because the League didn't follow the rules."

He said the last part just loud enough for a few hostages to overhear and whisper about it. Clever man. Bruce stared back at him.

"Why am I here?"

"To watch and learn. You are going to play a very big part in what comes next," he said conversationally.

"And what is that?"

The man smiled at him. "All in good time. You will learn it soon enough. For now, wait."

It wasn't the answer Bruce wanted but it was a start. Clearly this man was being employed to fulfil a service. The question was if he knew anything about his employers and, if so, what it'd take for him to talk. Was the man being paid enough to keep silent? What would it take for him to talk? Bruce knew after the hostages were out he'd have to track the man down, providing his current employers didn't silence him permanently after tonight, and find out what he knew. If he couldn't find it out tonight.

The man glanced at Bruce. "I have a question. A hypothetical question before we continue." When Bruce inclined his head slightly forward the man continued on. "Say two men stood before you; both desperate, both needing your help but one had blood on his hands, the other didn't. What would you do?"

"I have to choose one or the other?"

The man smiled. "I never said that."

"Then I'd help."

"Both?"

"Yes."

The man sighed, disappointed. He looked to the crowd. "I wish you hadn't lied. Had you been honest this might've been different."

Before Bruce could question what he meant the man snapped his fingers. In a flash one of the men had dragged a hostage to their feet. The world slowed to a crawl as Bruce saw their face, saw the panic flare in the eyes he once saw blaze with a terrifying fire. Bruce let out a shout as Ava was dragged forward. Another raised the gun. A second later there was a crack of thunder as the gun fired.

Ava went rigid, her eyes widening. For a moment she seemed to teeter on her feet before she crumpled to the ground. Bart scrambled over, yelling her name. The men made no move to stop him as he dragged Ava into his arms. Bruce was about to act but the guns were all raised, each aimed at the hostages. The man turned to him and smiled.

"I'd think carefully about lying to me again, Batman."

In his arms Ava slowly slipped away. Her pulse fluttered faintly. She'd already fallen unconscious, despite him calling her name, gently shaking her. The blood had already soaked through her clothes and started to pool beneath her. His own hands were warm with her blood. He brushed the hair from her already too-cool face, slick with a thin sheen of sweat across her brow.

If she didn't get to a hospital soon she'd be dead. Simple as that. He considered blurring her out but if he did and people died he'd never forgive himself. Neither would she. For all her faults he somehow suspected she'd be furious she was saved at the expense of others.

Across the room Batman had grown still. Clearly something had gone wrong in that talk. One moment everything seemed fine, then the man had a look of irritation and disappointment. In the next breath Ava was shot. Clearly Batman had slipped, had something wrong but what?

The man stood suddenly again. Bart readied himself to act, to stop another person from being shot. He shifted onto his haunches. In the corner of his gaze he saw Dick shake his head, begging him not to act. He drew a deep breath. A gun was raised.

"No," breathed a musical voice – as if from everywhere at once.

Ava's eyes suddenly snapped open, void of colour, blazing pure white – like there was a light inside of her. Her skin started to glow, the light intensifying. Bart went to move to her but she flipped to her feet. The guns snapped to her. Fingers crept to the triggers. She raised her arms suddenly and opened her hands. In a flash of blazing light the guns dissolved into thin air – then the men froze. She snapped her fingers and they turned robotically around, departing one by one until only the leader remained. She strode towards him. It was clear he wanted to run but he couldn't. He was frozen. Everyone was. Bart tried to speak, too but his mouth was locked, his body rigid. He could only watch as she stopped before the man. She reached out and touched his cheek.

When she pulled her hand back he crumpled to the ground, breathing faintly. She turned to Batman.

"You are all going to die, soon. The League will fall. Earth will burn."