Chapter 4: On Ice in the Iceberg Lounge!

When Tony woke up the first thing he noticed was how cold the air was, followed by the throbbing pain in his sides. He winced as he tried to sit up, only to find that he could not. He was tied to a bed by broad leather straps. Somebody had removed his armour, leaving him in his underpants. Glancing down, Tony could see clean white bandages wrapped around his chest and stomach.

He looked around. The bed stood in the middle of a pool of dim light. Cabinets and a washbasin stood nearby, alongside a tray of surgical instruments on a small metal table. He could see little beyond the light but it was clear that he was in a very large room. The air was cool and slightly damp. He could hear the cooling fans of a large machine, probably a computer, humming close by. From above came the distant flutter of wings. Bats' wings.

'You're Tony Stark,' said Batman, emerging from the shadows.

'Wow, you really are the World Greatest Detective!' said Tony, 'Y'know, I should have guessed you'd have a dungeon, what with the black leather and the mask and all. By the way, my safe word is "Monkey wrench".'

'You're welcome,' said Batman curtly. He produced a small remote control from his belt and pushed a button. The bed began to tilt forward, until Tony and Batman were almost face-to-face.

'I'm supposed to thank you?' said Tony, 'You've attacked me twice and now you've got me tied up in, what is this, your basement?'

'It's my base of operations. I imagine you have something similar at Stark Tower,' said Batman, 'You're going to stay here until I'm sure that I can trust you.'

'You're crazy! You still think I was in on that robbery? I took on half of AIM and a giant mutant cyber-gator to stop them stealing my property.'

'Crocodile.'

'What?'

'He's not a 'gator. His name is Waylon Jones, more commonly known as Killer Croc.'

'You get a lot of this sort of thing in Gotham?'

'More than I'd like.' Tony could not be sure but for a second he thought he saw a faint smile flicker across Batman's lips.

'Did we stop them?' Tony asked. Batman shook his head.

'While we were fighting Croc, AIM loaded the reactor core into trucks. I had to choose between stopping them and saving your life. They got away.'

'Thanks,' said Tony quietly. Batman turned his head away. When he spoke again his voice was softer, almost reverential:

'It was the Gulf, wasn't it?'

'What?'

'The Gulf War, when you were kidnapped by insurgents. That's when you decided to lead a double-life: to become Iron Man.'

'Yeah,' Tony said at length, 'It was. After that... nothing else seemed right.'

'Trauma. Grief. They do strange things to a person,' said Batman. A strange transformation had come over him. His voice was heavy, his shoulders slumped, his head drooping forward to his chest as if with great weariness; a sad, crumpled figure, alone in the midst of a great darkness.

The moment passed. Batman turned back to Tony, eyes bright with their normal fearsome intelligence: 'Does the name John Tesla mean anything to you?'

'No.'

'It should. He was Stark Industries' chief consultant during the construction of the Gotham power plant.'

'I have people who have people who hire consultants. Why, is he important?'

'He doesn't exist. I ran a background check while you were out. It took a nearly a day -'

'A day?' cried Stark, 'How long have I been out?'

'Almost seventy two hours,' said Batman brusquely, before returning to his subject: 'There are no records of Tesla going back more than three years, apart from his birth certificate and college transcript, which I suspect are faked. According to some SHIELD files I hacked, adopting the name of a famous scientist is standard procedure for AIM's undercover agents.'

Tony groaned. 'How the hell did this happen?'

'They've probably had someone in deep cover in your Human Resources department for years, preparing for a job like this,' said Batman, 'That way Tesla and his men could pass the background checks without attracting attention. Or they had somebody more senior to vouch for them...'

Tony glared at Batman. 'I had nothing to do with this. You saw it yourself: they almost killed me!'

'It wouldn't be the first time criminals have turned on one another during a job,' said Batman evenly, 'You're staying here until I get to the bottom of this.' He turned to leave.

'Wait!' said Tony, 'You're going after them alone?'

'AIM used some local muscle to drive the HGVs and lock down the plant while they disassembled the reactor core. They got picked up by the cops after AIM fled the scene. Almost all of them have connections to one Gotham crime lord: the Penguin. If I find him, I'll find AIM.'

'And you're going to need my help,' said Tony, straining against his restraints, 'You've got to let me out. You can't stop AIM alone!'

'I'll be fine.'

'It's not that simple! AIM are smart. They learn from their mistakes. They'll be ready for you this time. I know: I've fought them before!'

'Even if I did need your help, why should I trust you?' Batman growled, thrusting his face close to Tony's, 'If what you have told me is true, you didn't even realise a global terrorist cell had infiltrated your own company. Do you think I'd trust you with my life?'

The truth of the accusation struck Tony like a physical blow. He could only glower as Batman turned away from him.

'I can send someone down to fit you with a catheter, if you like,' he said dryly, 'Robin will bring you some food later.'

Then he was gone, leaving Tony alone with the shadows and the bats.

Tony teetered uneasily on the edge of sleep. The pain in his sides and the urgency of the situation combined to keep him from true rest, but he was still exhausted from the battle with AIM. He had tried to break his restraints but Batman had been too thorough: the straps were securely tied and the table bolted to the floor. He was trapped.

A noise drew Tony from a fitful dream in which yellow crocodiles transformed into bats and back again. At first he thought it was an insect buzzing at his ear but he soon recognised the sound of an electronic alarm. Craning his head round as far as he could, he could just see a tiny red light blinking in the distance behind him.

A shaft of light pierced the darkness to his left. Soft, urgent footsteps pattered down stone steps. A young man in a suit of scarlet and green flitted past Tony, his features partly obscured behind a black domino mask. As he approached the blinking red light an overhead lamp turned on, revealing a row of tall computer banks and a large, blank screen.

'That's not good, is it?' said Tony loudly, 'Blinking red lights are never good.'

'It's the emergency transmitter,' the young man murmured, speaking more to himself than Tony. Tony turned as far as he was able, trying to speak to the young man face to face.

'It's Batman, isn't it? He's in trouble.'

'Yeah,' said the young man, distractedly, 'It's his... last resort. If this alarm goes off, it means he's been captured.'

'I warned him not to underestimate AIM,' said Tony. The young man just stared at the blinking light, his arms hanging limply at his side. Tony saw his opportunity. 'Hey, kid!' he shouted, 'Let me off this thing – I can help!'

The young man half turned towards Tony. 'I don't think... I should go to the cops, tell Gordon what's happened...'

'The cops aren't ready for this. If you send them after AIM it'll be a bloodbath,' said Tony, 'Listen to me – I can help you. Get these straps off, give me my armour back and I might be able to get your boss back while he's still alive.'

'He said not to trust you,' said the young man, but he sounded uncertain.

'Is he usually the trusting type?' said Tony, 'I know your boss isn't a bad guy but can you look me in the eye and tell me that he's not the tiniest bit paranoid?'

The young man crossed over and stood facing Tony. 'You want to help us?' he said, staring hard into Tony's eyes.

'I do.'

'Why should I believe you?'

'Because you don't have any other choice. Kid, at some point you've got to start trusting somebody.'

For a second, Tony thought he had pushed it too far. The young man sighed and turned his face away. Then suddenly he stepped forward and undid the straps binding Tony. Tony slumped forward. He gasped as pain stabbed into his sides. The young man caught him, supporting him with his shoulder.

'Are you sure you're up to this?' he asked.

'Sure. It'll be a walk in the park,' said Tony. He tried to grin but it was more of a grimace. 'What do they call you, kid?'

'Robin.'

'Okay, Robin. Where did your boss put my armour?'

Robin led Tony across the room. Now that he could see more, Tony realised that it was actually a large cave subdivided until different sections. To his right was the large computer bank, the red warning light still blinking on one of the panels. High up on his left he saw the silhouette of a jet plane suspended from the ceiling. Somewhere below he could hear an underground river rushing by.

They came to an area like a garage or a workshop, laid out with benches, a crane and a variety of metalworking machines. His armour lay on the longest bench. It was battered, torn and scarred almost beyond recognition. Tony could see right away that certain parts, including the breastplate, were beyond repair.

'Batman did his best to save it, but I'm afraid it's not much more than a pile of scraps,' said Robin.

'Kid,' said Tony, with a wry smile, 'You don't know anything about me, do you?'

For a few terrifying seconds, Batman thought he had been blinded. His composure returned as he felt the rough sacking pressing against his cheek. Someone had tied a bag over his head. He tried to move his arms. There was a clang of metal striking against hollow metal. His hands were handcuffed behind his back. He probed about with his hands as far he could reach. He was sitting against a row of cool metal cylinders: a radiator. He was handcuffed to a radiator with a bag over his head. Cautiously, he tried to break the chain linking the cuffs. It was no use. He was capable of breaking a cheap pair of handcuffs but this pair was too strong. He pushed his body back until his hands were pressed right against his waist. As he had expected, they had removed his utility belt.

Batman paused to listen. Even through his cowl and the bag, he could hear faint music in the distance: big band jazz. Only one club in Gotham still played that kind of music. He was in the Iceberg Lounge, probably several floors below ground. That made sense. The last thing he remembered was scouting around on the building's roof. He had just forced opened an access hatch when there had been a burst of blue light and a ringing note like a tiny bell being struck: probably a stun ray, set up by AIM. Batman felt a stab of anger. Iron Man had been right. Batman could only hope that he would live to see Iron Man's smug expression again.

The emergency transmitter in his utility belt would have activated as soon as it registered that he had been knocked unconscious. Robin would be on his way. All Batman had to do until then was survive. Controlling his breathing, he began to run through the mental exercises he had learned to help endure torture. The Penguin was infamous for the sadistic executions; he would not give Batman a quick death. His only hope, short of a chance escape, was to hold out long enough for Robin to find him.

He was deep in meditation when he heard a door open. Instantly he was alert, listening carefully, deducing as much as he could by sound alone. Three large, thick-set men had entered the room. Two moved purposefully towards him. The third hung back. His movements were more controlled. He was probably the boss, armed with a machine gun. One of the other guards struck Batman in the side of the head. Batman grunted and fell sideways. His legs were pinned down before he could move. The muzzle of a handgun was forced into his ribs.

'Try anything smart and I'll kill you,' growled a voice in his ear.

They pulled Batman to his feet. Strong hands pinned his arms to his side, while the handgun remained jammed firmly into his back. Batman could hear the head guard following, five paces behind them, doubtless covering him with the machine gun. He was hustled up a flight of stairs, along a corridor and into an elevator. He listened to the clatter of the cage as they descended, counting the floors: three, four, five, he was at least a hundred feet below street level. Batman struggled to control his rising sense of fear. The Iceberg Lounge was a fortress. It would take the entire GCPD to storm it. Robin would never reach him in time.

The elevator opened and he was forced out. The handgun was removed from his ribs, only to club him on the back of the head a second later. Batman fell to his knees and was dragged over to sit against a thick heating pipe. The handcuffs were snapped back on, binding him to the pipe. The guard gave him a kick in the stomach for good measure and then removed the bag.

Batman surveyed the scene through bleary, star speckled eyes. He was in a dark, damp basement. It looked little used and neglected; the plaster was peeling away from the walls in large sections, revealing aged bricks. There was only one exit, the elevator, and that was guarded by two masked thugs carrying semi-automatic weapons. Another group of armed thugs stood between Batman and the elevator, talking in low, suspicious voices. They kept glancing at the group of AIM scientists who were working on some sort of machine at the other end of the room. As they moved around Batman glimpsed the distinctive aquamarine light of an arc reactor on full power. The AIM scientists were being directed by their leader, the only one not wearing a bucket-shaped helmet. He had a blubbery face the colour of sour cream and round spectacles with tinted lenses that served to make his face look even more like a latex mask.

The doors of the elevator rattled open and the knot of thugs parted respectfully. Penguin swaggered into the basement, twirling his umbrella in one white gloved hand. His fat, bird-like face split into a lurid grin as he spotted Batman.

'Tsk, tsk, Dark Knight,' he said, moving to look down at his captive, 'Trespassing on private property? Not very heroic, I must say'. Batman glared at Penguin but if he was intimated, he hid it well.

'How goes it, Tesla?' said Penguin, addressing the AIM officer.

'We are ready to proceed,' said Tesla coldly.

'Excellent,' Penguin turned to one of his henchmen, 'Call Jay. Tell her that we are ready to receive our guest of honour.'

Tesla glanced down at Batman. His lip curled into a sneer. 'Why have you left his mask on?'

'Professional courtesy,' said Penguin glibly. Tesla stared, refusing to acknowledge the attempt at humour. Penguin smiled.

'My dear Tesla, for all your undoubted intelligence, you have no sense of style, no élan,' he said, 'Who is the Batman without his mask? Just a man. But with the mask? He is a force of nature; an urban legend; a terror of the night. That is what I intend to destroy. If I were to present people with a corpse in a costume they could say that it was a fake, that the real Batman lives on. But kill him like this, with the mask on, and there can be no doubt. Both the man and the legend die tonight, at my command.'

'Are you going to feed me to another one of your pets, Penguin?' Batman gave a cool smile, 'I seem to recall that the last one had trouble stomaching me.'

Penguin eyes narrowed angrily at the memory. 'Oh no, Dark Knight, I have something much more inventive in mind...'

The elevator doors clattered open once more. Penguin's three beautiful bodyguards, Jay, Raven and Lark, emerged pushing a large metal contraption ahead of them. It looked like a sturdy wheelchair with a car's engine mounted behind. Batman stared in amazement at the figure slumped in the chair. At first he thought it was a statue of a human skeleton made of a dark grey metal but then he realised that it was breathing: shallow, gasping breaths, like an elderly man on a ventilator. A thick cable connected the engine to a square opening in its chest. It was only when he saw that opening that Batman recognised the seated figure.

'Metallo!' he gasped. He had never seen Metallo in person but he had seen the news footage from Metropolis last year. Who in the world had not? The unstoppable steel cyborg, who shrugged off bullets and bombs like falling leaves, had singlehandedly terrorised the greatest city on the east coast.

'Ah, so you are familiar with my new associate?' said Penguin.

'The police said that he had been destroyed,' said Batman.

'So they thought,' said Penguin smugly, 'One of my dredging companies happened to fish him out of Metropolis Bay three weeks after his battle with Big Blue. He was barely alive, whatever that means for him. You see, somebody had been inconsiderate enough to remove his power source.' Penguin gestured to the opening in Metallo's chest with his umbrella. 'It must have been a most unusual material. Try as I might, I was unable to replicate its effects. Connecting him to mains electricity barely gave him enough strength to stand.

'But I did not despair. One does not pass up such an opportunity. I put out word that I needed experts in high energy technology. Mr. Tesla and his organisation contacted me, suggesting that an arc reactor might serve as a replacement for Mr Corben's power source.'

'But they didn't have access to one,' concluded Batman.

'Correct, Dark Knight. They have been trying to acquire a copy of Stark's patented new technology for some time. The opening of the new power plant here in Gotham was a prime opportunity for another attempt but they lacked the necessary resources. We were able to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.'

Tesla stepped in between them. He bent his head towards Penguin's ear. 'You're saying too much', he said in furious whisper.

'What it does matter?' snapped Penguin, who was not used to be being interrupted, 'In a few minutes he'll be dead, and this whole city will know that I control the man who did it'

Tesla pursed his lips but said nothing.

'Raven, my dear, did you remember the camera?' said Penguin.

'Right here, sir.'

'Good girl,' he said, chucking her affectionately under the chin. He had to stand on tiptoes to reach.

Penguin crossed over to Metallo's wheelchair. 'Mr Corben,' he said softly, leaning in close, 'Mr Corben, can you hear me?'

Metallo stirred. His skull-like head rose, accompanied by the soft whirring of hidden gears. Twin pin-pricks of white light glowed in the depths of his eye sockets.

'I... hear you,' he said. His voice was very faint, more of a wheeze than actually speech, with a harsh electronic edge.

'We are ready for the procedure, Mr Corben.'

'The... arc reactor? You... have it?'

'Everything is ready,' said Penguin soothingly.

'Then... begin.'

Two AIM scientists came forward to move Metallo's wheelchair over to their work station. Batman strained at his handcuffs. 'Penguin!' he cried, 'Stop! He's too dangerous. You can't control him!'

Penguin simply grinned. 'I think you can set the camera up there, Raven,' he said, pointing to a spot directly opposite where Batman was chained.

Tesla had moved to supervise the final preparations. Batman was astonished to see how much AIM had accomplished in such a short time; not only had they thoroughly disassembled the reactor, they had managed to construct a smaller copy to be mounted in Metallo's chest unit. Very carefully, an AIM scientist disconnected the cable linking Metallo to the engine. Metallo gave a slight groan but seemed otherwise unaffected.

Penguin hovered over the scientists as they wheeled the new arc reactor forward, chuckling gleefully. 'First, the Batman and after that, who knows, one of the other costumed freaks? After all, what is fear gas or a poisoned kiss to a man of metal?'

'I would not be so certain about that,' said Tesla. His hand shot up, pointing a small energy weapon at Penguin's chest.

Penguin stared coolly up at Tesla. He did not look in the least surprised. 'You are being very foolish,' he said. Beside them, the AIM scientists continued to work on transferring the arc reactor to Metallo's chest.

'I'm afraid AIM considers the Metallo machine too valuable to hand over,' said Tesla. Those AIM agents not working directly with the reactor had produced similar energy weapons and were covering Penguin's henchmen.

'We had an agreement,' said Penguin, his monocle flashing an icy blue in the light of the arc reactor.

'We will return our fee in full. But we leave with the machine,' said Tesla.

Even as Batman watched the confrontation, he noticed Metallo stir at Tesla's use of the word "machine". 'No,' he whispered, 'I am... a man'. But if either Penguin or Tesla heard him, they gave no sign.

'You think you are very clever,' said Penguin, 'But you are, in fact, very obvious.' His finger touched a button hidden on the handle of his umbrella. Instantly, panels concealed in the walls of the basement slid aside. More of Penguin's henchmen, armed with rifles and sub-machine guns, stepped in to cover Tesla's men. The AIM scientists working on Metallo paused, directing questioning glances at their leader.

'Keep working,' ordered Tesla, his voice trembling slightly, 'The machine belongs to AIM!' The AIM scientists returned to their work, hastily manoeuvring the arc reactor into Metallo's chest unit.

'Corben is mine!' said Penguin, 'He will not obey you.'

Tesla scoffed. 'It is just a machine. Machines can be reprogrammed'. One of the AIM scientists had produced an item like a silver diadem, set with glowing yellow nodes. As the scientist placed the diadem onto Metallo's head, Metallo spoke again. His voice was louder now and much stronger, but with the same unpleasant electronic edge to it.

'I am a man,' he said, 'Not... a machine... A man!'

'Ignore it! Proceed,' snapped Tesla. The scientists were now working to connect the arc reactor inside Metallo. The pin-pricks in his eye sockets blossomed into glowing blue lights; alien, unfeeling eyes in a grinning metal skull.

'Stand back, Tesla. This is your last warning,' said Penguin. He levelled his umbrella like a shotgun at Tesla's stomach. The energy pistol is Tesla's hand hummed dangerously.

'No. The machine is ours,' he said.

Metallo gave a strangled roar. 'I am not a machine!' he cried, 'I am a man!' His arm whipped up, hurling an AIM scientist through the air with a sickening smack of metal on flesh.

'Stop. I command you!' cried Tesla. Metallo rose slowly from his chair, the arc reactor and the diadem on his head shining painfully bright in the dim basement. He raised his hand to strike Tesla. Tesla's energy weapon fired and hit one of the yellow nodes on the diadem. Metallo screamed as the diadem exploded in a cascade of white sparks. The arc reactor in his chest, still trailing wires, sent a beam of blue repulsor energy lancing across the basement. It hit one of Penguin's thugs, cutting a perfect round hole through his body.

The basement erupted in a cacophony of gunfire. Metallo stood in the midst, bellowing in rage as bullets and energy blasts bounced off him. Batman huddled as low as he could and prayed that he would not be hit by a stray bullet. Through the haze of gun smoke he saw Tesla disappear through one of the hidden openings in the wall, followed by a handful of his men. There was no sign of Penguin.

Metallo stood in the middle of the room, arms spread, head thrown back, as the arc reactor flashed and crackled in the centre of his chest. Lines of shimmering blue energy ran up and down his limbs.

'This city will burn!' he screamed, 'No mercy for Gotham! No mercy for any of them!'