Chapter Six

It's a takes a considerable amount of energy and effort to balance being a powerful business executive by day and relentless crime fighter by night, but balance was something Dick Grayson had mastered at a very young age.

The night in the Narrows with Wally had hit an unfortunate roadblock that neither the two had much control over; the weather. A powerful jet stream from the Canadian Rockies had unexpectedly pushed its way south, quickly erasing any memory of the rare sunny day Gothamites had briefly enjoyed. The forecast had been for heavy rains followed by cooler temperatures, but sometimes Mother Nature has her own plans.

Sheets of rain quickly turned to sleet, guaranteeing not only a drastic drop in fahrenheit, but any criminal activity that night as well. It's hard to sell drugs when your target market is huddled up inside trying desperately to stay warm, and dealers rarely made house calls.

Heroes don't have time to get sick, but long days at the office followed by longer nights on patrol can be hell on immune systems. It had been a bone chilling night. Dick even thought he noticed the speedster shiver a time or two, but Wally assured him with his metabolism he was quite comfortable. Now suffering from flu like symptoms, Dick was beginning to rethink his strategy from the night before.

"Damn speedsters," Dick mumbled, taking in another spoonful of Alfred Pennyworths homemade chicken soup. The Englishman had convinced the former boy wonder of its magical healing powers, citing the many times it had helped put Batman back on his feet and on the streets, but it only worked when accompanied by something Dick hated more than a cold; mandatory rest.

Zatanna sat on the edge of his desk, going through the latest financial reports for him, while Dick sneezed incessantly followed by a series of nose blowing and generally feeling miserable.

"This couldn't come at worse time." he grumbled, discarding the used tissue and grabbing more for the upcoming round.

"You've been burning the candle at both ends, what did you expect?" she asked.

He yawned, begrudgingly giving into his exhaustion. "I feel all we're doing is playing catch-up?"

"Well Kaldur's news is promising," the sorceress reminded, "plus it will give you a day or two to recuperate, the rest of us can handle it while you're down, but for now you're getting out of here."

"Can't you just conjure up me some …I don't know…. some health spell or something?" he pleaded.

"It doesn't work that way and you know it" she smiled, "but what I can do is drive you home."

"But…"

"Dick, he's not coming. I'll get a hold of him tomorrow and catch him up to speed. I'm cancelling the shareholder's meeting, and I'll reschedule the R&D presentation till Thursday."

"What would I do without you?" he sighed.

"You don't want to know," she grinned, walking over and rubbing her hands through his hair, kissing his forehead.

His fingers delicately traced her muscular calves, carefully grazing her thigh, causing her body to jolt slightly.

"Mr. Grayson, what would people say?" she playfully inquired.

"I don't care," he grinned. "You have a great bedside manner. Is it weird to be fantasizing about you in one of those naughty nurse's outfits right about now?"

"What do you mean?" she smiled sexily. "Like the ones with the short skirts and stockings, maybe some heels. Where I come in and tie you to the bed to make sure you do…what…you're… told," she purred, playfully running her finger down his chest. "Not weird at all Mr. Grayson."

"I think it's weird," a voice from behind deadpanned, "and this whole Mr. Grayson thing is just creepy."

Zatanna stood, straitening her suit and walked away from the desk irritably "God West, you are the worst! Dick I'm calling for a car," she scowled, driving her shoulder into the speedster's chest as she walked by.

"Ouch." he smiled as she left the room. "She loves me," he retorted sheepishly.

Dick scowled, "Nice timing,"

"Nice cold." Wally answered back.

"Why took you so long?"

"I just got your message." Wally responded.

"Dude that was three hours ago. Seriously hold on to your communicator. This is getting old."

"I was at the hospital with Marcus and his folks, what am I supposed to say? Excuse me for a second buddy, but I have to answer this super-secret glowing disc on my arm pretending to be a watch?"

"We'll you could have kept using the secured phone I gave you maybe? Instead of losing it all the time."

"Yeah yeah yeah," he droned. "Look I'm sorry I interrupted you and your girlfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend…She's not my girlfriend," they yelled in unison, as Zatanna returned, pausing briefly and looking at each other curiously, slightly irritated with the others response.

"Keep telling yourself that guys," Wally replied. "So what did you need?"

"This," Dick answered, handing Wally his tablet, opened to secure image from a Wayne Tech surveillance satellite. "It's the Shchepetov, a Russian freighter out of the Baltic. It was put to sea this morning. Kaldur's been watching this ship for a few days, and it's our best lead right now."

"What do the ship's manifests say?" Wally asked.

Zatanna read off the list from memory. "Metals, precious stones, textiles and electronics from China, machinery and equipment from Europe, the usual."

"But Kaldur said they added one large container right before they shipped out. Port authority never noticed," Dick added.

"Or were paid not to," Zatanna frowned.

"Any idea who's behind it?"

Dick took the tablet from the speedster, pressing a few controls and transferring the photo still onto the large monitor screen in his office. On it an image from orbit appeared, showcasing vast regions of the Mediterranean Sea. The image cycled through several magnifications before settling on a view of the slightly blurred cargo freighter. Dick entered in a few more commands as the computer began the process of cleaning up and enhancing the image. Finally the finished product flashed to life again displaying shots of what appeared to be several dozen guards walking the deck of the ship, along with an image of a larger man decked in a hood and red cape who stepped out of the shadows briefly for just a few still shots.

"Kobra?" Wally asked concerned.

"Yeah," Dick answered the same.

"This doesn't make sense, last time we checked they were more of a cult than muscle."

Dick sympathized with the speedster's agitation. "They're also guns for hire. After that whole Santa Prisca thing, they've been keeping a low profile, but word is they are available for protection at the right price, which is what it seems they're doing now."

"I guess I don't have to ask the destination," Wally assumed.

"It will arrive at Gotham Harbor in about nine days, give or take."

"So we have a boat full of highly trained psychopathic mercenaries, and their asshole leader who thinks he's a god," Wally announced incensed.

"Yeah, that about covers it," Dick sneezed into his tissue, "but I wouldn't put past him having a few angry Metas on hand for some back-up. I'm asking Kaldur to track them back to U.S. coastal waters to make sure they're not meeting someone else in route."

"He's gonna be pissed," Wally shook his head.

"He's going to be exhausted," Zatanna corrected.

"This whole thing is stretching our numbers pretty thin you know?"

Dick nodded, "That's why we're about to add one."

"I don't suppose you have a plan on how to do it yet?" Wally questioned.

"I'm working on it."

"We'll you're going to be working on it from home," Zatanna forcefully asserted. "The cars ready, you're going to bed."

Dick knew when to surrender. Zatanna took his hand and led him from his office to the private elevator that would deliver them downstairs and then to his Westside apartment.

Wally just stared at his best friend as the sorceress escorted him to the awaiting limo, knowing full well that she would not be leaving his apartment anytime soon.

"What can I say?" he smiled, "We have a history."

xxx

Artemis had spent most of the day and early evening in meetings with the Chinese delegate of a company Wayne was preparing to do business with, going over etiquette and protocol. Whereas the Japanese strategies were more formal, centered on a more aggressive approach, Chinese tactics were more subdued, more tied to Confucianism and patience then the Japanese were.

The meetings were extremely informative, but at times incredibly boring, and the archer did her best to stay as wide awake and interested as possible. Her plans that evening had been to patrol between the Commons and the walking trails near Westward Bridge, beautiful areas by day, dangerous ones at night. Reports of attempted rapes and robberies had been pouring through the police channels she monitored, but were not considered a priority by the GCPD at the moment. Not enough rich people living around there she assumed.

Instead she'd stay at home and eat her mother's homemade Rau Muong together, apologize for her nightly absences and do her best not to lie about her whereabouts and activities. Her mom was no fool, but they avoided the subject as much as possible, probably because deep down they both new the truth. Paula Crock had turned her daughter away from a life of a crime, but wasn't sure deep down that vigilante suited her any better. Just being Artemis Crock businesswoman had a much better ring to it in her opinion.

Artemis plopped down hard into the plush chair near her desk, logging off her computer and gathering her belongings for the journey home when she noticed the large brown envelope resting there. It was unmarked, but carried the Wayne inter-office mail stamp on it.

She tore it open and pulled out its contents, one single envelope sent by the Office of Probation and Parole. She didn't have to open it to know its contents. It was that time again.

It took several seconds of her trip down unhappy memory lane before panic sunk in. It must have been forwarded to Wayne from Queen Industries. The Parole Board had all her information on file back in Starling, but she had intentionally not left a forwarding address, content on leaving that part of her life behind. Unfortunately some good samaritan at Queen probably thought they were doing the recipient a favor. Their good deeds caused her heart to drop and a cold sweat to form. It wasn't a fear of her father or his miniscule chances of being released; it was of keeping a secret she'd hoped would remained buried back on the west coast and away from her new life.

She held the envelope in her hands, her fists shaking slightly when she heard the quiet voice.

"Hey," Wally said softly.

Artemis spun around, swallowing hard and raised her shields.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

He calmly knelt down as his eyes grazed the envelope.

"I saw this in the sorter down in the mail room and figured you might want to keep this private," he said calmly.

"Yeah I would," she snapped, but Wally could see the pain hiding behind her blue eyes.

"Artemis," he said kindly, "It's no one's business what's in there, not mine, not Wayne's, no one's. It's going to stay that way. I know you don't like me very much, but I need you trust me on this ok?" he asked, reaching over for her hand as her body tensed and carefully pulled away before he could reach it.

Wally looked down and frowned slightly, knowing his approach may not have been appreciated, but his sincerity never wavered.

"Anyway, I got to go. Good night Artemis."

He stood and began to walk away when he heard a quiet voice ask. "Why didn't you just leave it?" she questioned fragilely.

"I didn't want to take a chance it would get lost. I know how much this job means to you, and I definitely know how much you like your privacy. I just wanted to make sure you got it in person."

After a long pause she whispered "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Be careful going home ok? There's some real weirdos out there. Good night."

"Good night Wally," she responded kindly.

Wally pushed the elevator key and waited for the car as Artemis stood and watched him from across the way.

He turned back towards her for a moment. "Just for the record, if anyone at Wayne had found this, if Dick had found this, it wouldn't have mattered. You've earned your place here. You've got nothing to prove, not to me at least."

And in a flash he was gone.

xxx

Days later Wally sat on the edge of the hospital bed, staring intently at the screen. So much information was being processed in front of him that even with his speed he was having trouble keeping up with. He searched all around the screen for the target he was looking for until the bottom half of the monitor flashed bright red and droplets of blood splattered across the screen.

"You suck," he groaned despairingly, throwing his controller on the bed while the teen smiled in victory.

"I thought you said you were good at the game," Marcus teased, as the game reset itself and the next round's countdown began.

"I am good at this, you're cheating somehow." Wally demanded, "You must have messed with the settings. I've been playing Call of Duty for years, you're just lucky kid."

"Bring it on," Marcus laughed as the game began, and the two virtual soldiers set off to find the other and end them violently.

"Hey Wally? Can I ask you a question?"

"Nice try kid, I'm not falling for it."

Marcus kept playing, sending his soldier through the building, looking for the speedster's avatar lying in wait.

"Do you think they'll find me a donor?"

Wally realized it was no ploy and paused the game, turning back to his young friend.

"Yeah Marcus I do. I have faith. We didn't get this far just to have it all crash and burn at the end. The beauty of this formula is we can take anything; it doesn't have to be a perfect match, that's what the drug is going to do. We just have to be a little patient."

"I know," he said sadly. "I'm just tired of being here."

"You're tired? Think about how I feel? I have to walk over here in the cold and spend hours and hours with this obnoxious kid who cheats at videogames and eats all the pizza I bring with me. I don't want to hear your belly aching. I have it much worse off than you."

Marcus grinned. "You really do have it rough; you know what's even worse?"

"What?" Wally asked.

"You're dead."

Wally looked at the screen to see Marcus's soldier standing over his sniper lying in the weeds. Seconds later the screen exploded in crimson again

"God you suck," Wally laughed, shoving the grinning teen nearly off the bed.

xxx

Later that afternoon, Wally walked into his office. He had a few emails to return and check the latest test results from the computer simulations he'd started days earlier.

As he sat down, he closed his weary eyes for a moment. It had been a long day. Dick had given the team a few days off before the imminent arrival of the Soviet cargo ship within the week, and it couldn't have come sooner. Wally played it cool in front of Marcus, but he was nervous. Maxwell Lord had pulled some strings and jumped the teen to the top of several donors' lists, but it was still no guarantee it would arrive soon. Despite the kid's cheerful attitude, dialysis was a miserable way to live and there were still no guarantees that Wally's formulas would work. He decided to give himself the same advice he had to others lately. Have a little faith.

He reached for the keyboard to open his inbox when he saw the bag. He took off the tie and opened it to find two custard filled doughnuts and a note inside.

Reflex and metabolism took over and Wally had already downed with the first one before he even read the message.

"The girl at the café said these were your favorites, Thanks for the other night and the call to Dr. Mire, I really do appreciate it. Consider us even, and No I still don't want to eat, drink, go out, or hang out with you , but thanks a lot for caring and your words really meant a lot.

Sincerely,

Artemis

Wally smiled and popped the other doughnut into his mouth and finished it in seconds. This wasn't the start of a beautiful friendship, but it was the start of something. It was all up to Nightwing now.

xxx

The archer sat perched on the snow covered rooftop, watching as the beat up sedan slowly rolled into the alleyway with its headlights off. It sat there for minutes with no activity before two figures exited the vehicle and stood outside the car causally. After a few moments of surveilling the scene, they left the sedan and walked further down the alleyway, hanging a left towards the back of the jewelry store.

When they were out of sight the Artemis stealthy slid to the ground, going to the back of the car and writing down the tag number on her hand just to be safe. More than likely the license plate was stolen; possibly the whole car, but she had to be thorough.

She ducked down as car lights from across the way briefly lit up the sedan as it turned into traffic. That's when she saw what was inside.

As small child wrapped in blankets shivered while she slept, the young girl belonged to one of them, perhaps a relative, but more likely a daughter.

Fury erupted within the archer, memories long buried crawled to the surface inside her.

The girl couldn't be more than four, possibly five, but those assholes had put her life at risk by bringing her along. Just like her own father had years ago.

Artemis rounded the corner, hugging the wall, but they were nowhere to be seen. One of the back doors to the building had been pried open and the alarm box carefully disabled. They might be amateurs, but they were good amateurs.

She remained still, crouched down behind the dumpster waiting or one to exit the store or just even pop their head through the door as a lookout. Nothing. No movement, not a peep.

The archer grew tired of waiting, and pulled the crossbow from her jacket, cocking the arrow into place when she felt the cold steel push hard into her back.

"If you scream, make any sound, I'll kill you," the man said. "Get up…slowly."

A rough hand grabbed the inside of her arm and lifted her to her feet. She turned to see the partner walking out another door carrying a small bag filled to the brim, probably with every single item the store owner had in his inventory.

A second door, she cursed. Rookie mistake.

"Look what I found," the gunman announced to his partner.

"You're pretty," the other man smiled. He wore no jacket, but the tattoos on his arm denoted military service, Special Forces more than likely, but not all solders turn out saints.

She'd seen their faces. They'd probably guessed she'd seen the car. The man holding the gun spun her around, the barrel resting into her chest. She had no move, unless she could get some distance. The archer could feel his warm stinking breath, and it didn't take a genius to guess they were going to kill her; it was the moment's in-between that left her squeamish. Her mom had asked her to stay home, watch a movie with her and keep warm, but the archer said she needed to go back to the office. They both knew it was a lie. She hoped her mother would forgive her one day.

"Inside," he demanded.

Artemis turned and complied. Hoping for a chance to make a move once through the door, but being unfamiliar with the building interior was going to make it difficult. The man smelled awful, the same scent her father brought back to her home time and time again.

Four steps into their journey a loud clang echoed through the alley, and a small metallic item came sliding to their feet, one shaped oddly similar to a bat.

A red indicator light on the device blinked three times and Artemis hoped it was what she'd guessed and closed her eyes tight.

A blinding prosperous flash exploded through the alleyway. Even with her eyes closed tight, her vision was still taken away. The cold gun barrel in her back was suddenly gone, and she heard a lifeless thud as her assailant was thrown into the closest brick wall, followed by the unique tone of Kevlar on bone, and finally silence.

Still unable to see, the archer aimed wildly with her crossbow, unsure if her rescuer was friend or foe. She sensed movement around her and suddenly the crossbow was lifted from her hands, replaced just as swiftly with a cold compress.

"Put it on your eyes and let it sit for a minute or two."

She complied, what choice did she have? Whoever had taken her bow could have her on the ground in seconds if they wanted to.

She stumbled back and found the wall to lean against while she waited for her vision to return

She heard a plastic rip, much like the sound a zip tie makes, guessing her rescuer was securing his victims.

The voice spoke again. "I've called the police and child services; they should be here in a few minutes. What say you and I continue this conversation somewhere more private."

Artemis removed the compress and looked to see a man decked completely in black leather and Kevlar, a red bird draped across his chest, a dark domino mask covering his eyes.

"Are you ok?"

She nodded speechless.

"Good. My name's Nightwing, and I have a proposition for you."

Author's Notes: Finally some action. Chalant fans this chapter was for you. Sorry it's taken so long. Things are going to start moving from here. If you get a chance, let me know what you think.