Chapter 6 – Battle of the Metal Titans!

The old Gotham City water treatment plant had been shut down over twenty years ago, its creaking old pumps superseded by newer technology. The city had planned to demolish it but, like so many of Gotham's old buildings, there were complications surrounding the lease. So the plant had been boarded up and left to gather dust, home only to rats and the occasional vagrant seeking shelter from the merciless East Coast winter.

Tonight, however, was different. Footsteps echoed through the dank, mildewed corridors. Vermin who had made their home in the shadowed rooms were startled by the beams of flashlights and the harsh voices of men. In the main pump room, between the silent carcasses of the great engines, the agents of AIM were packing with an almost reckless haste.

'Careful!' Tesla snarled as a junior agent stumbled, nearly dropping the energy rifles balanced in his arms. 'Leave the guns,' said Tesla, 'Leave all non-essentials. Only the arc reactor matters now.'

He turned back to the team that was preparing the reactor for shipping and cursed Cobblepot for the hundredth time. Stupid, pompous little thug; why couldn't he have just handed the machine over? Now it was rampaging through downtown Gotham and Tesla was being forced to flee like some common burglar after a botched robbery. Months of careful planning had been ruined in a few minutes. It was this damned city, with its twisted old buildings inhabited by people with tiny, twisted little minds. Tesla looked forward to the day he would return, armed with the arc reactor technology, and burn it to ashes.

He drew himself out of his fantasies with a shake of his head. They still had to move the arc reactor to safety. He spoke into his communicator, contacting the team assigned to guard the perimeter:
'Septimus, report. 'No answer. 'Team Septimus, report at once.' Still no answer. Tesla readjusted his communicator.

'Rutherford, this is Tesla. I've lost contact with Septimus. Find out what's the matter with them.'

'Roger that, Superior.'

Two minutes later, Tesla heard a panicked voice in his earpiece. 'Superior, this is Rutherford. I can't get the door open!'

'What?'

'It's been jammed shut. And the controls aren't responding.'

'Team Septimus?'

'There's no sign of them, Superior. I… need some backup here.'

Tesla sighed. 'Very well. Tesla to Team Quartus, drop what you're doing and proceed to the front entrance. Rutherford needs – Ah!'

A loud crash thundered through his earpiece. The other agents froze, the blank visors of their helmets turned towards him.

'Who told you to stop? Keep working!' Tesla barked at the team loading the rector. 'The rest of you, get your weapons and follow me.'

AIM had been using a loading bay at the rear of the plant as an entrance. When Tesla arrived, a dozen paces ahead of the others, he found the sliding steel door shut fast. He stood, bewildered, sweeping the floor with the beam of his flashlight. Rutherford had vanished.

'Sir, look!' said an agent, arriving just behind him. The agent's flashlight flicked upwards, illuminating a long, narrow window above the door, reinforced with thick metal bars. Hanging there, his ankles lashed to the bars with his own weapons belt, was Rutherford. He groaned softly as the light pierced his visor.

Tesla swore. 'Cut him down', he said. He crossed over and tried to open the bay door but the controls did not respond.

'It's the Batman,' he snarled. He turned to his men, 'Split up. Teams of two. Search every room, every corridor. We can let him run loose in here, not with –'

There was another crash. It was somewhere on the far side of the building but was still uncomfortably loud; the booming, echoing sound of metal falling on concrete.

The voice of Volta, head of Team Secondus, spoke into Tesla's ear: 'Superior, there's – there's been an accident. Some of the old pipes in the east corridor just came down! I've got multiple people hurt here and – Aayee!'

Volta's scream, unnaturally high pitched and piercing, was abruptly cut off. The agents around Tesla exchanged surprisingly meaningful looks for men in full-face helmets.

'How the hell did he get over to the east corridor so fast?' somebody muttered, 'That shouldn't be possible…'

'Quiet!' said Tesla, his own nerves adding a vicious edge to his voice, 'He's just a man, like the rest of us. He must have crawled through the heating ducts or something. Everyone switch their visors to infra-red at once. Done? Now spread out and kill him.'

The agents murmured their assent but they were slow to peel off, shuffling along the fusty, mould-spattered corridors with weapons raised. Tesla took two agents with him, Hooke and Sagan, and began to search the ground floor service corridors. They were exceedingly narrow, lined with numerous pipes and old cables, forcing the agents to go sideways in places. Minutes passed slowly. Tesla made his agents report in to him, one by one, then again five minutes later.

On the third report, two agents on the second floor failed to answer. Tesla redirected two other teams to search for them. He had just finished his fruitless sweep of the north service corridors and had resolved to join the search on the second floor when what sounded like a hand grenade exploded somewhere above him. It was followed instantly by screams and panicky gunfire throughout the building. Tesla was momentarily blinded by the discharge of so many energy weapons, their crimson bolts blazing bright in his infra-red vision. He called for a situation report but the communication channel was a babble of voices:

'Oh God! Oh God, he's up here!''

'I have visual! Repeat, I have visual!'

'… some kind of stun grenade. Took us out without…'

'Somebody help! Please, I need help!'

Tesla threw back his helmet, tore out his earpiece out and threw it way. He could feel his heart racing, his palms cold and damp with perspiration, but it only made him more furious. He was ashamed to feel this irrational fear rising inside him; the fear of the prey animal, of being hunted in the dark. He was a man of science, governed by reason. Such fears were for lesser men.

'Superior?' said Sagan, in barely more than whisper.

'To hell with it,' said Tesla, 'Let's get to the arc reactor and get out of here.'

They headed back to the central pump room, Tesla leading, Hooke and Sagan watching the sides and rear. The gunfire had stopped, leaving an unnerving silence in its wake. Water dripped from rusted pipes. A rat's claws skittered on bare concrete. The building settled with a gentle groan. There were no human sounds beyond their own footsteps and their shallow, nervous breathing.

Tesla turned a corner, round one of the vast corroded old pumps, when he heard a whispering sound, like a soft breeze blowing. He glanced back in time to see Hooke topple to the floor unconscious, a bat-shaped boomerang lying by his head. Sagan screamed, firing blindly into the shadows, painting the cavernous pump room with splashes of hellish red light. Tesla ducked and scurried forward, all thought for his fellow agents forgotten.

He reached the arc reactor as Sagan's firing ceased abruptly. He stared round, open mouthed. He had left a whole team, his best men, to guard it. They were all gone. The arc reactor was still in the middle of the pump room, inside a solid metal crate on a wheeled palette but it was too heavy to move alone.

Tesla stood frozen beside the reactor, heart drumming against his ribs, breath coming in short, painful, gasps. His hands were trembling, no matter how hard he tried to stop. He could not stay there, it was too exposed, but neither could he force himself to move away, into the unknown darkness.

'Do you know what the problem with your kind is, Tesla?' said a deep, resonating voice. Tesla spun round, and spun again, but he could not locate where it had come from.

'You think tools are all you need,' the voice continued, 'That if you get all the best toys, the world will roll over for you. But it's not about the tech. It's about the man behind it. If you don't have the guts to stand up and fight, even when you know you don't have a prayer, then all the tech' in the world isn't going to help. That's why you lost tonight. That's why you'll always lose to men like me.'

A great, winged shadow loomed up in front of Tesla. Tesla squealed. He swung his pistol up to fire, only for it to be batted out of his hand.

'Stay the hell out of my town,' said Batman, as he knocked Tesla out with one punch.

Iron Man staggered back to the hole he had smashed through the wall. His whole body ached, either from Metallo's last blow or from the wounds he was still nursing from his battle with Killer Croc. Without his armour to support him, he doubted that he would be able to stand upright, much less fight. The smart thing to do would be to retreat, rest and repair but there was no time. Metallo threatened a city of eight million souls and he was the only one who could possibly stop him.

He fired his rocket boots and hopped into the air, hovering high above the street. Metallo looked up and let out an echoing, metallic screech that could never have issued from a human throat. He raised his hand, tendrils of blue lightning gathering around his fingers, but Iron Man was already moving. He dodged the blast of searing energy, dropped down, seized the top of a lamppost and ripped it out of the sidewalk as if he were uprooting a troublesome weed. Raising it high over his shoulder, he twisted at the hips and gave it his best driving swing.

'Fore!' he cried as the base of the lamppost struck Metallo's upraised arms with a satisfying crunch. The blow made Metallo stagger but it bent the lamppost almost in two. Metallo screamed again, lightning flashing from his open mouth. Iron Man dropped the lamppost and darted away.

He landed further down the street. Crouching, he prised a manhole cover out of the ground, his gauntleted fingers gouging easily through both iron and asphalt. Balancing it in the crook of his arm, he pivoted on one foot and, with the full force of his enhanced strength, he hurled the manhole cover at Metallo like a discus. The manhole cover struck Metallo's head with a high, ringing note like a bell. Again he stumbled backwards but this time Iron Man was there to follow up, launching himself through the air, both fists thrust ahead of him.

Television crews covering the congestion on Brown Bridge, over three miles away, captured the noise of the collision. Iron Man lifted Metallo off the ground, carried him across the street and ploughed straight through a burning office building. For a second the world turned to noise and smoke and terrible, choking heat and then he was in clear air again, flying over Gotham's Fashion District. Halfway across the next street Metallo suddenly regained his composure. He raised an arm, elbow poised to drive through Iron Man's spine. Iron Man tried disengage himself but Metallo wrapped his arms and legs around him, his whole body acting as a giant vice.

In desperation, Iron Man plunged them through the roof of a high-end shopping mall. Sheets of plate glass shattered into razor-edge raindrops as they fell. Iron Man pummelled Metallo, striking with knees and elbows, but he could not get free. They went through a row of boutiques in a cloud of drywall dust, scraped along the tiled floor of a food court and finally came to a juddering halt in an ornamental fountain. Metallo suddenly screamed as the light from the arc reactor flared, sending lines of energy arcing out like a Catherine wheel. His arms jerked uncontrollably, dealing Iron Man a blow that sent him spinning up onto the second floor gallery.

'Of course, water!' Iron Man wheezed as he picked himself up. Early versions of the arc reactor had displayed an unusual sensitivity to water, a quirk in the design that AIM had clearly replicated in their hasty rebuild. If he could submerge it, it might shut down altogether. Convincing Metallo to hold still for long enough was the only, slight difficulty.

With a screech Metallo leapt towards him, jumping straight up onto the second floor from a standing start. Iron Man shot upwards, missing the cyborg's grasping hands by inches, blasting an exit through the roof with his repulsors. Metallo followed, lightning crackling from his jaws as he came.

'Iron Man, come in,' said a voice in Iron Man's ear, 'This is Batman. Do you read me?'

'I'm kinda busy right now!' said Iron Man, turning sharply around a high rise building. Metallo simply crashed in through one side and out through another.

'I've secured the main arc reactor. The police are on their way to arrest AIM right now. What's the situation with Metallo?'

'Oh fine, just fine. Me and Robby here are having a great – Whoa!' A bolt of blue lighting flashed past, forcing Iron Man to barrel roll sideways.

'Where are you? I'm on my way.'

'One second!' said Iron Man. He slowed down, spinning back round to face Metallo.

The cyborg had just launched himself from the side of another high rise, aiming to springboard back into the air from the roof of an old brick-built tenement building. Iron Man let fly with both repulsors, seconds before Metallo landed, punching a hole in the tenement's roof. Unable to control his fall, Metallo plummeted down into the heart of the building. Iron Man thrust out his right arm and fired the high-impact missile mounted in his forearm. The missile passed through a lower window of the tenement with a tinkle of breaking glass. A second passed and the entire ground floor of the building disappeared in a cloud of smoke. The upper floors folded in on themselves with an exaggerated slowness that was almost comic, burying Metallo under a small mountain of shattered bricks.

'That should give us a few seconds,' Iron Man muttered.

'Dammit Stark, what's happening?' said Batman.

'I can't lie to you: it's bad,' said Iron Man, 'This guy's in a different weight class to us.'

'Do you have a plan? Any plan?'

'Yeah. One, but it sucks.'

'That's better than nothing.'

Bricks were starting to shift within the ruins of the tenement.

'Submersing the arc reactor in water should deactivate it,' said Iron Man, speaking rapidly, 'but it could take several minutes and I can't hold Metallo in one place that long.'

'Not a problem,' said Batman, 'Do you know the Aparo Expressway?'

'I do have GPS in this suit, you know.'

'Good for you. Get Metallo there. I'll be waiting. Batman out.'

Bricks erupted into the air as Metallo burst free of the rubble, screaming and firing lightning into the sky.

'Burn! You will burn!' he bellowed.

'Tag, you're it!' Iron Man shouted back, firing his repulsors at Metallo's feet. Metallo jumped into the air, lightning shooting towards Iron Man, but he was already fleeing. He led Metallo north and east, skipping over rooftops, slaloming between the towering gothic skyscrapers. Occasionally he would turn to snap off a repulsor blast to keep Metallo angry but it did not seem to make much difference. The cyborg followed with tireless ease, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, clearing the lower buildings in great, arcing bounds.

The Aparo Expressway lay ahead, a mile long bridge of steel and concrete spanning the eastern end of Miller Harbour. The police had closed the bridge as part of the evacuation of the Fashion District, leaving only a handful of abandoned cars on the road. Iron Man came to land right in the middle of the bridge. There was no sign of Batman.

Metallo bounded from the quayside, over the water and onto the expressway in a single jump. Iron Man felt the bridge shudder under the impact.

'Hey, junior!' he said, his breath now coming in short, painful gasps, 'Wanna play a little catch?'

He took hold of the nearest car, a family sedan, and hoisted it up over his head. His armour's servos screamed in protest as he threw it towards Metallo as hard as he could. The car spun slowly through the air and then exploded as one of Metallo's lightning bolts struck it. Slivers of red hot metal sprayed across the bridge, some of it pinging off Iron Man's armour.

'Now you burn!' screamed Metallo. Lightning clustered around him, encircling his whole body in an aura of blue light. Iron Man tried to activate his rocket boots but his limbs refused to respond. He staggered forward onto one knee, spots dancing in front of his eyes.

'Iron Man!' a shouted voice in his ear, 'Get clear!'

Iron Man turned and saw a black speck travelling towards him from the far end of the bridge. In a matter of seconds it was almost on top of him; the Batmobile, roaring down the expressway at over a hundred miles an hour and straight towards Metallo.

Iron Man had barely the space of a heartbeat to react. His armour's software had calculated speed, distance and the force required in an instant. He crouched, shoulder down, facing the oncoming car. At the last second he scooped the nose of the car up off the road and, in a move resembling a shot putter, hurled the oncoming Batmobile at Metallo.

Observers standing on the banks of Miller Harbour saw the explosion first as a brilliant flash of white light before they heard it, sharper and louder than any thunderbolt. The roadway beneath Metallo was vaporised by the blast, while the pillars beneath crumbled like wet clay. The rest of the bridge followed more slowly, tumbling away in pieces that sent up great jets of spray as they struck the water below. So fascinated and horrified by the spectacle were they that nobody spotted the tiny golden figure spiralling drunkenly out of the blast, coming to land on a sleek black speedboat bobbing safely out on Bob Kane Sound.

Three days later, the Bat Signal once again illuminated the night sky over Gotham. When Batman arrived on the roof the GCPD headquarters, sticking to the deepest shadows to hide the difficulty with which he was moving, there was no sign of Jim Gordon.

'Good evening, Mr Wayne,' said Iron Man, stepping out from behind the signal. He was wearing a brand new suit of armour, the gold and scarlet finish shining in the light.

Batman glowered at him and said nothing.

'Oh don't pout,' said Iron Man, 'My suit's got GPS, remember? When the Boy Wonder helped me back into my armour, I took a quick look at where I was. A cave under Wayne Manor? Even I could figure that one out.'

'What do you want?'

Iron Man held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. 'Don't worry, your secret identity is safe with me.'

'Likewise.' Batman turned to leave.

'You know, there are still some questions I want answered,' said Iron Man.

'Such as?'

'Like, what happened to Metallo's original power source? I went back and studied the original footage of his battle with Big Blue. He had some weird green rock in his chest that I've never seen before. So what happened to it between then and him showing up in the Penguin's basement? I'd ask him myself but I hear he was practically comatose when the police fished him out of the harbour.'

'I'm looking into it,' said Batman tersely.

Iron Man gave an exasperated sigh. 'I thought we were past this. We saved each other's lives. We took down an entire team of AIM agents and one of heaviest hitters I've ever heard of. Doesn't that count for anything?'

Batman was silent for a moment, then he stepped forward into the light of the signal.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'This is all… very new to me.'

'You and me both,' said Iron Man, 'The whole world's changing. Bigger threats, bigger bad guys; pretty soon there are going to be threats that we can't handle alone.'

'What's your solution? Some sort of partnership?'

'I was actually thinking bigger than that, like a team or league, maybe?'

A strange, resonating voice spoke out of the air:

'I'm glad to hear it, sir.'

Both Batman and Iron Man stared in astonishment as a strange, ethereal figure rose out of the floor in front of them. It looked like a tall man, swathed in a golden cape. Its long, solemn face was bright green, with a red jewel mounted in its forehead.

'My name is Braniac-5, designation "Vision". I bring a message from my master, Kal-El. He requires your aid, urgently.'

To be continued!