CLXX
Epilogue: The Romantic Adventures of Tim Drake
Part Four: False Flags
As I had left the restaurant with Raven, I remembered thinking that the night air of Gotham seemed too cold for the first week of December… that everything seemed cold. That the lights seemed smaller, overwhelmed by the powerful darkness of this cold night. Amid my state of relationship despair, Raven had whisked me away in black smoke from the restaurant and back to my home - like the broken hero of an old Christmas fairy tale.
I remembered those things vividly as I now laid in bed, staring up at the darkness, sleepless… attempting to fathom the meaning of these two imaginary words she had spoken.
Soul Mate.
Even the dark embrace of sleep could not wrap its sinewy tendrils past these two simple words and carry me off into dreams. If love were a game of chess, Raven had defeated me with those two words.
Did such a thing exist for mortals? Did everyone have a soul mate? What if the rest of us had to settle for a reasonable facsimile? What if I were emotionally impaired because of my lifelong devotion to reason? What if was love were simply a fantasy born of wild hormones and selfish genes?
As one of the preeminent experts in my field, there were certain things that I understood better than perhaps any other person… but 'love' was not among them. I could trace electrons across circuitry too small to behold, but I could not comprehend the currents racing inside my heart. Emotions had always seemed a foreign power, an invitation to commonality.
Whereas Raven was forced to suppress her emotions for the first twenty-one years of her life, I had regarded them as something to simply overcome. I was better than love.
Until I saw Raven. She had fascinated me beyond anything I had ever known. She was the undiscovered Universe, a new realm of possibility for my intellect wrapped in a beautiful package. I had fallen in love with the mystery more so than the woman; building the fantasy of an unattainable Paradise.
An unattainable Paradise from which I had been cruelly cast aside by its ruling Goddess.
Laying there in the darkness, my religious analogy made me chuckle… because if anyone had ever tasted of the fruit of knowledge, it was Tim Drake. I had pushed the serpent aside in my rush to get a taste of that dry fruit.
It was a few moments after Midnight when the waves of sleep finally swept the clouds of thought from my troubled mind.
At 6:12 AM I awoke with an epiphany…
Internet Dating.
Statistically, it was my best chance.
While my soul mate may or may not exist, I could at least maximize the chances of meeting her by posting on every dating site available, by describing myself in great detail, and then organizing the responses based upon a sorting algorithm.
I had worked with social media technology, now it would work for me.
I had about twenty days left to go on a blind date with my potential soul mate… assuming that she would even be agreeable to go out on a weekday. I had to spread my net as far as possible and then choose very carefully.
Still, the escort fiasco of the previous evening had taught me not to rush off into these things. Dating was much more dangerous than it looked. I would construct a plan.
I carefully researched the etiquette of successfully posting profiles and on these sites and soon realized that I would need a recent photo of myself, one that hopefully showed me in a good light. Looking in my closet, I also realized that I needed to go clothes shopping immediately. As part of my project plan, I booked a professional photographer for later in the afternoon, ate breakfast and then set out for fashionable downtown.
I had allotted five hours for my image makeover, which may have been optimistic. Six outfits later, I finally found one that seemed to capture my personality, a lovely Huntsman tweed wool suit punctuated with a crimson bow-tie. I looked like a young British aristocrat… or a tenured University professor… or the next Doctor Who.
For good measure, I picked up the matching cabbie hat and tried out my best Cockney accent.
Then it was off to the barbershop. I had always worn my hair on the longer side - which tended to make me appear like a messy kid. But now, the time had come to grow up. Three shorn inches of black hair later, I almost looked professional.
Actually, I looked pretty good.
With my new suit and haircut, I made my way to the photographer. She was a nice, older lady who immediately asked if I was getting my picture done for an online profile.
Was it that obvious?!
Apparently, lots of young professional men had done the same thing… It seemed no one had the time or inclination to try out the singles scene these days. After a dozen poses and careful examination of the results, she also informed me that I could get personalized Christmas cards for half-price.
So I picked up a couple of dozen and an 8 x 10 glossy of the one we liked best…
Rushing through an early dinner, I finally got to work on writing my profile. I had established my posting time for 6:00 PM and needed to hurry. I wanted to accurately describe the real Tim Drake, so I constructed a composite list, reworked the details, edited, prioritized, and got it down to five-hundred words in under thirty minutes.
Phew.
With my new photo and profile, I managed to post to over thirty-seven serious relationship sites, linking all email responses to my filtering algorithm. Like a fisherman in the Sea of Love, I had cast my net to the deep, dark waters.
Looking for one, special fish.
The flood of responses I had hoped for did not occur. Re-examining my filters, I found that they had performed as anticipated, sorting out all unwanted replies, but I wondered if I had made my profile perhaps a little too selective.
Even after an hour, there were still no unfiltered replies to my thirty-seven postings.
Did I dare broaden my filter range?
What if my soul mate was older than thirty-two? What of she didn't have an IQ of at least 140? What if one of her interests wasn't nano-engineering? Was I looking for a soul mate… or the female equivalent of Tim Drake?
That was a scary thought.
As I contemplated rewriting my profile, I suddenly received a WI-Screen call from Fritz Hollmann - on a personal number I hadn't used in ages… Clicking 'Accept', I was greeted with the face of my old German colleague once again.
"Tim!… You're a very hard man to get a hold of! I was surprised to see you are taking a vacation when Bruce Wayne has announced his pending retirement… Resting up before the big transition, my friend?"
God, it was good to see someone from work again!
"…Rest? More like losing my mind, Fritz... Trust me, it wasn't my idea, I was forced to take a vacation by Bruce himself… and then he cut me off from all company correspondence. He's even gone so far as to ban me from the Wayne Industries' servers."
"Why would he do such a thing? He's already suggested you as his successor to the Board. That seems… unprofessional."
Unprofessional was the polite word for it. If I could confide in anyone though, it was Fritz. Once he was on your side, he was loyal to a fault.
"Look Fritz, you have to keep this a secret, alright?… Non-Disclosure. It's kind of a bizarre situation... Bruce forced me to take a vacation because he wants me to go on a date."
"Ahhh, marrying off the Prince, is he? Then who's the lucky girl? Perhaps a V.P. from LexCorp? A clandestine merger of the two companies facilitated by a strategic marriage? It would not be the first time, you know…"
That's what you get when you open your heart up to an old German who built a time altering laser cannon. Cold bastard. Fritz was now having far too much fun at my expense. Besides, all the female V.P.'s at LexCorp were horrid and he damned well knew it.
"No Fritz… Just a date… With my soul mate."
His old German countenance softened and his eyes lost the playful smile.
"Ahhh… how fortunate for you then, my young friend. A soul mate is a rare and precious thing to find, Timothy. I myself would be lost without my lovely Elsa. I can see why Bruce wanted you to take some time off then... Forgive an old man for teasing. Is this lucky girl anyone I would know?"
"Actually… it's no one that either you or I would know. Because I haven't found her yet. I've been tasked with finding my soul mate and then going on a date with her…"
Fritz waited while an awkward silence hung in the air… as if the old scientist were awaiting the punch line. Finally he realized… this was no joke.
At least it was no joke to me.
"Ahhh…Did you perhaps have a few too many glasses of wine and attempt to seduce Mrs. Wayne? Or was there an elicit and very torrid affair with one of the office secretaries that ended in blackmail?... Surely there must have been some great scandal you are not telling me to have invoked this cruel and unusual punishment, Timothy…"
If only it were that straightforward.
"No… Nothing like that, Fritz. I think Bruce just wants me to… find someone."
Fritz actually seemed offended at this. Which confirmed my first suspicion; what Bruce and Raven had done to me was indeed cruel and unusual punishment.
"I too would like you to find someone, Timothy… but I could never mandate it... But, what do I know? Perhaps it will turn out for the best? The reasons of Love have never been known to Reason… A very difficult conundrum. What about that Pentagon General… I believe her name was Liang?"
"Married. Already checked."
It was true. I had checked out Liang's availability one hour after Bruce had presented me with the contract.
"A shame... If you are willing to wait two or three years, perhaps my youngest daughter Brigitte…"
"By Bruce's contract, it has to be by Christmas... But that's very kind of you to offer, Fritz. She's a lovely girl."
"Well, Wayne is nothing if not ambitious… He's gone so far as a contract, has he? Sheisse!... I do feel for you my friend. Love has never been easy or fair… and Christmas is not that far away."
"No, no it's not... But how is work going, Fritz? It's killing me not being able to work with everyone from home."
"No need to chat about work, my friend. Things are fine. I'm more concerned with you. You have been presented with a rare and difficult challenge, Timothy… Now, what strategies have you employed?"
I was almost ashamed to admit.
"Fritz… Are there any of those LexCorp robots still around? I'm sure with the right programming and modifications I could…"
"A robot does not have a soul, Timothy."
"That could be a moot point. No one's ever proved I have a soul either… Then I suppose I am stuck with unsteady variables of Internet dating."
Fritz grinned.
"I wish you luck then in the marketplace of lonely souls… They say that volunteering is a wonderful way to meet people as well, Timothy. Perhaps around the Holidays, you could spend your days working in the community as a volunteer…"
"I could… But let's see how my online dating project turns out first. I may have to go on a lot of dates, you know."
Fritz Hollmann laughed as I winked at him.
"So you may! But however it turns out, enjoy yourself Timothy Drake. You're far too serious for a man of your age. Actually, you're far too serious for a man of my age!"
"I have to be… I'm a Vice President of Wayne Industries."
"You are more than just a Vice President of Wayne Industries, Timothy, as am I. Besides… you're not working right now, are you? Look at this as an opportunity. These reprieves don't come along very often for men such as ourselves - whose minds are the soldiers of commerce. When you're my age, you'll realize that meeting attractive young women is not the hardship you make it out to be."
Perhaps I had set my expectations too high.
"Thanks Fritz… I'll try to have fun. I really appreciate the call though."
"Tschüss my friend. Take care."
If I had ever wanted to hug a mad, old German scientist, it was Fritz Hollmann.
"Bye Fritz."
In a short time, Fritz Hollmann had become one of my best friends and he was right about this 'vacation'… If nothing else, I had an opportunity to explore new and exciting things. And going on dates couldn't be all that bad, could it?
The alert to my personal inbox almost shocked me.
Because of Fritz's call, I didn't have a chance to broaden my filter range, which meant… I had an actual response to one of my ads that had made it through my filters!
With baited breath, I slowly opened the reply…
And felt like I had hit the jackpot!
The profile that awaited was the things dreams are made of.
Stepanída Kirchnavy was a Russian dream. She was a blonde beauty with icy pale blue eyes set atop the body of a professional athlete in her prime. I had seen super models who couldn't compare with her.
Her father had been a top theoretical chemist with the Russian government. Stepanída had originally intended to follow her father's career path in chemistry, but had instead decided to pursue her first love, which was tennis. When she was still a teenager, she had played throughout Europe.
At the age of twenty-one, her tennis career had been put on hold due to an ankle injury so she had come to Gotham to begin her true career and enroll in molecular chemistry. She had turned to online dating as Stepanída had found the men of this city intellectually unchallenging and shallow.
Stepanída enjoyed the fact that I was a man who knew exactly what I wanted, who was ready for a commitment (with the right woman), and (in her words) had no patience for lazy, brain-dead women who were only looking to exploit successful, hard-working American men with base sex appeal.
Stepanída's strict Russian upbringing had made her a practical woman. She had little time for frivolity and liked to keep busy in meaningful pursuits, always working towards the goal of bettering herself.
And although she was alone in a foreign land, Stepanída was hoping to find someone who shared her work ethics and passion for academic learning. This amazing and lonely woman had turned to online dating in order to become more efficient with her time and had found my profile intriguing.
'Intriguing' was now my favorite word… I could work with that.
If that was an actual picture of Stepanída, she was totally hot. To be honest, when I had began the online dating process, I was worried about finding women who would measure up to my standards… but now I worried that I would not measure up to hers.
Based on looks alone, this athletic blonde bombshell could have had any man in the room. But Stepanída Kirchnavy had brains and a 'take no prisoners' attitude as well. She knew what she wanted and she seemed to want a successful, intelligent man…
I could have just scored the date.
But how should I respond to her?
In the end, I probably came off a little desperate… offering to fly Stepanída anywhere in the world for our first date - at any time over the next two weeks, all expenses paid. Within moments, she called me back on the WI-Screen number I had provided.
As God as my witness… She was exactly as incredibly gorgeous as her profile photo.
Wow.
This was the real deal. There was a noticeable Russian accent which gave her an exotic, forbidden fruit quality, somehow making her even more attractive. She was confident, beautiful and straight-forward.
After a lot of awe-struck pauses on my side, Stepanída decided that our first date should be in Gotham. After all, it was foolish for me to offer to take someone I had never met before anywhere in the world. Why spend so much time and money on someone before I even knew them? A date in Gotham would suffice to learn more about each another.
I hastily and wholeheartedly agreed.
She decided on a restaurant in old Gotham University. It wouldn't have been my first choice, but it made sense for her if she were staying near campus and wanted to stay close. There was no way I would be able to concentrate on the food anyways with this beautiful woman sitting across from me.
Our date was set for 9:00 PM that evening, only one hour from when the call ended. Stepanída was obviously not a person who wasted time. And that was fine with me as I was incredibly anxious to meet her.
Remembering the escort debacle, I wondered why I hadn't just tried online dating first?!
Cleaning up and donning my new suit again, I took a cab to Gotham Noir, the destination of our first date. While old Gotham certainly had its charms, it was abandoned to the wild-at-heart after sunset, mainly filled with students looking to cut loose from nearby Gotham University.
Stepanída had actually arrived before me.
The eyes of every man in the room were drawn to this magnificent woman in a tight red dress as she rose to greet me. I felt the admiration-laden contempt of every single male in the restaurant suddenly cast upon me. All these young men shared one single thought when I reached out to shake her hand and she pulled me into an embrace –giving me the Russian cheek kiss while I grinned like an idiot…
Lucky Bastard.
I was hoping it was her heels, but Stepanída was a good three inches taller than I was. The arms that held me were fantastically toned and strong as her white-golden hair fell across me like spun silk.
But the most amazing thing about her were those eyes… Pale blue with flecks of light twinkling underneath. These were the eyes of someone alive, as though her soul resided within her wonderful eyes. She smiled and I swear they almost radiated.
"I am sorry, Mr. Drake. I did not realize you were such a prominent figure in Gotham… I should have suggested another place for us to meet..."
Her Russian accent was adorable.
"Please… call me Tim. And this is fine, Stepanída. I admit it's been a long time since I've been in Old Gotham. It must be close for you?"
"Yes… I only suggested this locale because it is close to my apartment… I hope you do not mind, but I did some research on you after our call. You look far too young to be a Vice President at Wayne Industries!"
"I'm twenty-four. I graduated with my second PhD in applied nanotechnology at the age of seventeen, and then went straight to work at Wayne Industries. I was promoted to V.P. at the age of twenty-two. I'm a bit of a prodigy, I suppose."
"You are far too modest, Tim. You are a genius and a leader of industry. In my country, women would be fighting over such a brilliant and successful man. And this is true, you have no girlfriends or mistresses?"
I think I actually blushed.
"No… No girlfriends at all. Wayne Industries keeps me very busy."
The sultry stare and sly smile that accompanied her response made my pants feel uncomfortable.
"…A chance to have you all to myself then."
By the time we finished our meals, Stepanída made me feel like I was the most eligible bachelor in all of Gotham. She was amazed at my professional and academic accomplishments at such a young age. While most young men were still living with their parents, I was running an entire division of a large, multinational business.
Yes, I suppose I had done pretty well for myself.
But the lingering question quietly haunted me… Could Stepanída actually be my soul mate? True, I was strongly attracted to her (and who wouldn't be?) and she seemed genuinely interested in me, but I knew very little about her past. Whenever I tried to broach that subject, she tended to steer our conversation away from her own history, giving me the sense that she had lived through tragedy.
After I had told her I had never followed tennis, she suddenly seemed keenly interested to educate me on the entire sport. After nodding for about fifteen straight minutes with glassy eyes, I realized that perhaps this is what ordinary people felt like when I waxed eloquently on the effects of static electricity upon nanite particles at a molecular level.
At least I had never broken down the details into the corresponding quantum mechanical formulae… at least in public. Still, I really liked hearing Stepanída say the word 'Love'… even if it were only in the context of a Tennis score.
After chatting about tennis and finishing a meal that I honestly could have lived without, I picked up the check and we prepared to leave. I offered to call a cab but my date insisted that I walk her home. After all, Stepanída lived only a few minutes walk away - and she enjoyed the cold, winter nights of Gotham.
Fair enough. Unlike the previous night, the air was cold but now alive. The lights of Gotham burned bright and warm with possibility as I walked hand-in-hand with this Russian beauty. Back to her apartment while she explained that this cold was much gentler compared to the bone-chilling winter of her homeland.
Yes, the date was going well…
I was surprised when she stopped by an old abandoned warehouse near the docks, walked to a door, pulled out a key and unlocked it. Paint peeled off dilapidated walls and even the 'No Trespassing' signs were faded and worn. It looked condemned.
"…Stepanída, where are you going?"
She only laughed.
"This is where I live, Tim… It's an abandoned warehouse that belongs to a Russian friend of mine. Free rent."
"… How can you live here though? It must be absolutely freezing."
"Oh, there's no need to worry… It has a converted bedroom which is insulated and I have heaters. I quite enjoy the privacy."
She offered her hand to me as her glowing eyes shone with deep-seeded passion.
"Please Timothy, come in... I would like to talk more with you."
I could see her breath crystallized in the cold Gotham air. Why did I hesitate?
"…We could go back to my condo and talk, Stepanída. I have a spare bedroom you can use."
"We could, dear man… but tonight I would like to tell you about my past. Alone. I would like to show you how I came to live in a place like this. If you're worried about the cold Timothy, perhaps you would allow me to keep you warm tonight?"
It should have been an offer no red-blooded male had the right to ever refuse… but something bothered me. I stood on the threshold of something dangerous. Were things happening too fast? Was I afraid of what may happen beyond that door or was it something else?
Should I tell her that I was still a virgin?
My thoughts came to a grinding halt when Stepanída suddenly wrapped her long arms around my neck and sealed perfect red lips upon my own surprised mouth, which responded as best as it could. Sensations flooded across my body through our grasping caress while my own arms slowly felt and held her own strong, slender back.
It was my first real kiss.
When our lips parted breathlessly, she peered into my eyes with a gaze of pure seduction, breaking any chance of resistance I had. Clasping hands that only wanted to feel more of this sensual woman, she whispered one single, promising word as she pulled me into the darkness…
"Come."
And like an obedient dog hungry for more, I blindly obeyed.
The inside of the warehouse was dark and cold. She led me blindly along, slowly making our way into the void like blind lovers. When Stepanída suddenly released my hands, I expected that she was seeking a light switch to shed some illumination on our cold and dark surroundings.
I waited for her to say something while I listened to the 'click clack' of her heels walking away. She had left me alone in the dark to feel her way along a wall surely… Perhaps it was her idea of a playful joke, abandoning me in the dark while she fumbled for the switch.
Then lights suddenly did snap on and my eyes began to slowly adjust.
And I realized that I was now in very serious danger.
Standing thirty feet in front of me were three large and dangerous-looking men brandishing automatic weapons. In front of them was another large, bearded man wearing a fur hat… opening his arms to receive a giddy Stepanída.
With my lips still warm from my first real kiss, I watched in silent horror as the woman who had delivered it gleefully pounced into the awaiting arms of the man in the fur hat. She then played a vulgar session of tongue-tag with this brute - while the three goons behind him chuckled with snickering grins, silently daring me to even contemplate making a move to stop them.
After the man in the fur hat and Stepanída had swapped enough spit, Mister Fur Hat confidently stepped towards me. I quickly noticed he had cold eyes and a number of scars running along his neck.
"Beautiful… is she not, my friend? But… she is as deadly as she is beautiful. An exquisite spider who spins a web of deceit lined with sweet, sticky honey. And you Mr. Drake… Tonight, you are the fly in that web."
He laughed contemptuously. Bastard.
"… What's going on here? Who are you people?"
"My name is Yuri Dimitrov… although your fellow Gothamites prefer to simply call me "The Russian". All you need to know is that I am a man you do not wish to disappoint. These men are my associates. Please do not give them reason to shoot… each of them is KGB-trained and have killed many people. It would not go well for you."
"…What do you want with me?"
"It's very simple, Mr. Drake. We want money. You will wire all money you ever possessed into our account and then we will ransom you to Wayne Industries for twenty million dollars. If the money is paid, you will be released. If not… well, let's not think on such bad things. Tonight, I am happy!"
"Wait, you're… kidnapping me?"
Dimitrov laughed, amused at my discovery.
"Kidnapping is for amateurs. We're taking you hostage, Mr. Drake. To that end, please remain still while I sedate you…"
The Russian carefully pulled an ugly syringe from a case beside him, filled with a sickly yellowish liquid I did not care for at all, and then started walking towards me, holding the tip of the menacing hypodermic needle aloft in the air.
"… Just a little something to help you sleep. After all, you've had a very busy night, my young friend."
I knew I would take the wicked smile curling across Yuri Dimitrov's tight lips to my grave. I had been played for a mindless fool, a lovesick patsy chasing a skin-tight red dress across Gotham. Inside, I knew he was still laughing at me.
Where was Raven when I needed her?!
The lights that had once danced across Stepanída Kirchnavy's eyes were now revealed as the murderous glee of a cold-blooded killer. She was the willing lure to lead men like me here, a treacherous spider preying upon wealthy, lonely hearts. Nothing hurt me more acutely than her premeditated betrayal…
And then… Shots were fired as all Hell broke loose around me.
The mob goons started shooting at something I couldn't quite see while Dimitrov spun around, barking orders in Russian - obviously concerned that bullets were starting to fly closely by him.
I dropped to the floor instinctively as the automatics went silent again. By the time I glanced past Dimitrov and his damned hypodermic, I saw that only two of the goons were still standing and one was lying unconscious on the floor.
They had been attacked by someone… but where were they?
As the mercenaries stood back-to-back, frantically attempting to pinpoint an enemy force that none of us could see, their heads were suddenly slammed together, as though invisible hands had smashed the occipital bones of their skulls together.
Ouch!… It made the back of my head hurt just witnessing those two guaranteed concussions. The goons slid down against one another in an unconscious heap, like a bad comedy routine.
And still, no one saw the assailant.
Yuri Dimitrov suddenly pulled a pistol from his belt and pointed the weapon down at me - which almost made me wet my pants lying on the concrete. Surely he didn't think I had anything to do with all of this?!
Instead of killing me though, he simply screamed at the air…
"Show yourself! Show yourself or Drake dies right now!"
A deep, ominous voice that sounded like it was coming from just in front of us answered the Russian's deadly demands.
"You made two mistakes, Yuri…"
Before our very eyes, a large mysterious figure in a black metallic flight suit suddenly appeared - standing next to Yuri Dimitrov. It was the most beautiful and dangerous thing I had ever seen - and it seemed very familiar. Its metal hand was held next to the back of the Russian's pistol.
"… The first mistake was using a Glock with an external hammer. Much too easy to remove."
The tinkling sound the small metal firing mechanism made as it fell upon the concrete floor was perhaps the loveliest sound I had ever heard in my life. I saw the small, bent piece of metal rest next to me.
"…The second mistake was not letting go of the hypodermic."
I watched as this metal demon grabbed hold of Dimitrov's other hand with inhuman strength and then plunged the hypodermic directly into Yuri's neck. As strong as the Russian looked, there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it the entire time. The flight suit had obviously been modified to increase the user's strength.
Two seconds later, Yuri Dimitrov crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes beside me, unconscious by the time he hit. I had a few guesses what that yellow drug concoction had been - and I wouldn't have liked to be injected with either of them.
As I glanced at my grim savior, I realized that this must be the mysterious Batman that people around the office were now talking about… So he was real. And the suit he was wearing looked exactly like a modified version of the Wayne Industries stealth prototype we had built in September…
A female voice from thirty feet away interrupted my technical inspection.
"Don't hurt him!"
In all the excitement and violence of the past ten seconds, I had forgotten about Stepanída. The blonde beauty now held one of the automatic weapons of a fallen goon and was pointing it in our direction. Tears were streaming down her cold blue eyes as her svelte body shook with fear and rage.
And then she was only pointing it in my direction as Batman popped out of sight once more.
There were now no doubts in my mind that the flight suit that Batman wore was indeed the Wayne Industries stealth prototype. I had been the one who had designed the nanite sheathing that refracted light around that very suit. And Wayne Industries was the only company on Earth that possessed this technology. I had only ever finished two suits for one man and a cloak for Raven…
As enlightening as this realization was, it still didn't detract from the fact that my date - the dangerous woman who had lured me into becoming a hostage - was now pointing an AK-47 at me. Luckily, she didn't seem proficient with the weapon, but I didn't want to depend on her inexperience to spare me from an automatic rifle.
The smartest thing I could do was to hide behind an unconscious Yuri - so that's exactly what I did. If Stepanída was going to shoot me, she would have to shoot her ruthless boyfriend first. If I had to go, I was talking Yuri Dimitrov with me.
She actually paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. I should have felt like a louse - using an unconscious man as a shield like that - but after what this pair of twisted lovers had planned to do to me, I didn't feel the least bit guilty at all.
Batman massive form became visible one again, standing directly in front of the AK-47's barrel. From what I recalled of the stealth suit's specifications, this mysterious avenger had an excellent chance of surviving point-blank rifle fire of this caliber.
It would still hurt though.
"Drop it, Ilyana… You're no killer. Don't give me an excuse to show you what I'm truly capable of…"
That commanding ominous monotone again. To criminals, he must have been terrifying.
I watched past Yuri's unconscious form as the blonde struggled furiously. At first, I had suspected that she was struggling with her conscience… but I later learned that it was with the AK-47's trigger. Batman had slid up the automatic's safety lever while he had been invisible, and now the trigger would not work, no matter how hard she pulled.
Fear widened in those beautiful pale blue eyes as the Dark Knight slowly reached his hand across and placed a steely grip upon her left shoulder… sending 50,000 volts of electricity through her quivering frame, until the woman I had just eaten dinner with finally collapsed unconscious on the cold ground.
He then checked her pulse, drew a small auto-injector from his belt, and administered it.
"…What are you doing?!"
"I'm giving her a mild sedative… Much gentler than the one Dimitrov intended for you, Tim Drake. The Gotham Police response to this district is between 13 and 22 minutes. Ilyana may not remain unconscious for that long though… and frankly I don't think you would be able to restrain her.
I've already dosed the other three hired guns. You'll be safe now. They'll wake up in about two hours. They'll be sensible in three. Yuri won't be waking up until some time tomorrow. Make sure you tell that to the police."
"…Her name is Stepanída Kirchnavy. Why do you just call her Ilyana?"
"Her real name is Ilyana Davidoff, a Russian criminal wanted in four countries. Stepanída Kirchnavy is a fictional identity created by Dimitrov's organization so that Ilyana could pose as a prospective love interest for rich men like you. They've already pulled this scheme off twice now… with men older than you."
"But what will happen to her now?... I got the sense that she seemed to have a tragic life."
"She'll be deported. We've all had tragedy in our past, Tim Drake… but that does not give us the right to cause it in others."
I remembered my own father and mother.
"No… it doesn't. You said there were other men…What happened to them?"
"They're dead. One was murdered as soon as the ransom was paid. The other was murdered when it wasn't… Yuri Dimitrov is one of the most vicious criminals alive with no regard for human life whatsoever… I've been tracking this case for the pas week. You got very lucky tonight, Mr. Drake."
"Yes… and thank you. Truly. But may I ask you a question Mister… Ahhh….?"
"I'm Batman."
"Alright then… Batman. That armor you're wearing is a specialized Wayne Industries prototype stealth flight suit put into production in September. Even though you've modified it, I know what it is. In total, two were made, each built for one single individual… So may I ask where you got that one?"
"It was bequeathed to me… from a good friend."
It was hard to believe that Richard Grayson was actually standing in front of me again… but the variable DNA-encryption built into that suit would have made it impossible to be anyone else. That suit was made for one person and one person only and no one was going to break that encryption. Which meant…
"You're supposed to be dead, Richard."
"… I'm Batman."
I carefully got to my feet again and dusted myself off, so I could look him in the eyes.
"Look, it doesn't matter who you are. I owe you my life… But if you're going to be reckless like that with my designs, your stealth nanites are going to get wrecked. Come see me when that happens, alright?... With or without the armor."
"You always were too damned smart for your own good, Mr. Drake…" Batman tapped the side of his helmet where the information relay was located and then cocked his head.
"…The police are on their way… Jesus, even Gordon himself is with them…. Heh, Bruce must be out for blood. Tell them everything that happened here, Tim. I will have my on-board video sent to them shortly as evidence. They'll need all your correspondence too. Oh… and be careful out there, buddy… Gotham is not as safe as our local Tourism Board would have you to believe."
"Yeah… I'm finding that out the hard way. Thanks again… Batman."
I watched as the Dark Knight take off like a bullet and fly through a small opening in the skylight above, utterly convinced that I had just talked to a dead man. Nobody but Richard Grayson could fly like that. Somehow, this was Gotham's lost son Richard Grayson who had just saved my life…
As I exited the warehouse, I heard the screeches of squealing tires rounding the corner of the street and saw the cruisers' red-and-blue sirens reflecting on the walls approaching me. I waited just outside the warehouse and breathed in a deep sigh of the cold winter night, resting my hands on the crown of my head, just in case the police didn't recognize me.
It was going to be a long, long night down at Gotham Precinct...
After a near-miss with a homicidal escort on my first attempt at dating last night and now abducted by the Russian mafia on my second attempt, I could only come to one logical conclusion. I may have been one of the most successful young businessmen in America, but when it came to romantic endeavors…
I was cursed.
Next Chapter: Tim is visited by a ghost from his academic past.