A/N: Thanks to Kathy and Debbie for the beta! Thanks to the Byrnerobotics forums for help determining Reed Richards' age.

Chapter 16

"Understood, Oracle." The four people facing her across the view-screen wore the same blue, form-fitting uniform—at least, three of them did and the fourth could probably be excused—but the resemblance ended there. The man speaking was in his late thirties, though graying sideburns and a dignified air made him seem older. His face was youthful, and likely would remain so even if he survived past the century mark; elastic skin was unlikely to wrinkle. His date of birth, though, was a matter of record and Oracle wasn't fooled.

Next to him stood a blonde woman some ten years younger, concern writ large in her blue eyes. Beside her was another man a couple of years younger than Dick, but giving off the same familiar devil-may-care vibe, even across a video link. The fourth member of the group loomed behind them, a massive figure who looked like he'd been carved from an orange boulder and brought to life.

"We have the Fantasticar revved and ready to assist," the younger man chimed in, brushing a lock of golden hair back from his eyes.

"Much appreciated," Barbara replied. "I'm not sure if the EMP—assuming that's what it was—has ended or whether its effect is ongoing. If it's the latter, it'll still be affecting electronics, so be prepared in case your car suddenly putters out."

"We'll do that," the woman replied. She looked to the older man, her husband. "Reed, I'll help you pack up the equipment. Ben—"

"I know, I know," the Thing rumbled. "Ya want me ta go wid ya in case I gotta do some heavy liftin'." His craggy face relaxed in a smile. "Well, I'm yer man."

The younger man grinned. "Guess I'll just do a final check on the car's latest upgrades, then."

Mr. Fantastic nodded. "We'll be off within the hour."

Oracle smiled. "And if you should happen to run into a three guys who just dropped off of my communications grid and they should happen to be in a bind…"

The Human Torch's grin widened. "We'll lend a hand."

"Thanks." She was still smiling as she closed the channel. There were other people she could have contacted to render medical assistance. There were many others she could have summoned as reinforcements for Batman, Nightwing, and Daredevil. But as far as those who could do both and who were close enough to upstate New York to reach the area quickly, the Fantastic Four had been among those at the top of the list. And unlike the Avengers and the Justice Society, they'd been home when she'd called.

Batman bit back a muffled curse.

"Problem?" Daredevil asked in an undertone.

Batman didn't reply for a moment. Then, through clenched teeth, he muttered, "Every electronic device I have on me appears to have stopped functioning."

Daredevil stopped in his tracks. "I guess the big question is whether this is something H.I.V.E. threw at us, or whether whatever it is would be affecting them, too."

Batman nodded slowly. "You make a good point," he admitted. They pressed on in silence, Batman testing his gadgets from time to time. Finally, the older man sighed. "Let's go back a ways," he directed. "I want to check whether they'll start working again if we get out of range or whether they're completely disabled."

"Roger that," Daredevil said. "How far?"

"I noticed the effect about a mile back. Let's make it one and a half," the answer came. "If this is something H.I.V.E. did, then either the field is passive and only hits when we come within a certain distance of their base and my equipment should come back online as soon as we're clear, or they had to turn it on, in which case it may cover the entire area."

"Which means they spotted us," Daredevil replied.

"Yes. Even should that be the case," Batman added reluctantly, "I don't see as we have much choice. We can't leave Nightwing in their hands; we've got to go after him. I just want to get a clearer idea of what we're dealing with. If they know we're out here, we can dispense with skulking about and just move in."

"Got it."

They gave it almost a mile and three quarters before Batman snarled. "Nothing. Fine. We press forward again. Carefully."

Daredevil nodded. "I'll keep my ears peeled and let you know if we trip anything."

"Appreciated," Batman nodded back. "Let's move."

The first H.I.V.E. drone fell without a sound. The second had time for a startled cry before an escrima blow to the back of his head dropped him heavily. "You're going to have one mean headache when you come to," he muttered, securing the drone's hands behind his back with plastic ties. "Believe me, I know!"

He heard hesitant footsteps approaching and saw flickering shadows play on the wall. Someone was coming around the corner with a candle. It figured. His EMP had taken out anything electrical, electronic, or battery-operated in the vicinity. And while some of the rooms might have windows, not all did. The hallways definitely didn't. Which meant that if they wanted to get from Point A to Point B, they either needed a low-tech way of lighting the path, or Daredevil's hypersenses.

Smiling, Nightwing took to the shadows. The two H.I.V.E. operatives walked toward him without noticing, their gaze intent on the corridor ahead. He waited until they had almost passed by before he leaned over and blew out the candle. A moment later, he was stuffing them into a nearby supply closet. He heard more footsteps approaching and he shut the closet door and flung himself flat against the wall. No candle flicker this time. In fact, there was no light at all. Maybe there was someone on the base who knew the layout well enough to find their way around blindfolded.

The operative suddenly spun to face him, drew a firearm, and leveled it at his chest.

—Or maybe he wasn't carrying the only set of night-vision goggles that had been protected from the EMP…

"You'll be happy to know," Sue Storm-Richards reported an hour later, "that it seems to have been a single EM pulse, rather than a continually-emitting field. We've had no issues with our gear whatsoever. Reed is showing the hospital staff how to use his inventions as a work-around for the time being, and we've contacted Stark International about providing replacements for the damaged equipment and infrastructure. Everything is being assembled as we speak and will probably be in Troy by nightfall."

Oracle felt a wave of relief wash over her, but there was one thing she still needed to know. "Any casualties?" she asked, half-dreading the answer.

The blonde woman on the monitor smiled and shook her head. "We were in time," she said. "A bit longer and things could have been much worse. We'll be hanging around for a bit. It's going to take a while before the city is fully restored and we'll be helping out where we're needed until some headway is made."

"Thanks," Oracle said. She was smiling, although the electronic face she was projecting to Sue displayed no emotion. "I've been in touch with some JLA reserve members and they'll be joining you. Since you're already there, do you want to take lead on coordinating their efforts?"

"We can do that," Sue confirmed. "Unless they'd prefer to handle things on their own?"

"I think someone needs to be in charge. Since you're already on the ground with a fair idea of what's needed, let's make it you."

Sue Storm-Richards, the Invisible Woman nodded. "It does give me something concrete to do," she said with grim good humor. "Fine. You give me the names and abilities and I'll send them where they'll do the most good."

Oracle's smile broadened. "Stand by to receive transmission."

"Don't move," the H.I.V.E. operative snarled, "or I swear, I'll shoot you where you stand."

Nightwing's hands were already in the air at chest-height, his palms facing outward in a placating gesture. "Take it easy," he said softly. "Someone's going to get hurt if you keep waving that thing around."

The muzzle of the gun trembled slightly, and the operative's defiant tone was partly spoiled by a slight stammer as he gritted out, "That's the idea."

Nightwing sighed. "I was afraid you'd see things that way." He shook his head. "Fine. You caught me, fair and square. Now, what?"

The gun muzzle's waver grew more pronounced. "Turn around," the operative ordered. "Start walking."

"Okay," Nightwing shrugged. He took a couple of steps and then stopped. "Uh-oh."

"I said to walk!" the operative snapped.

"Yeah," Nightwing said, "but I got a little problem. My lenses just stopped working. I can't see where I'm going."

The H.I.V.E. operative swore under his breath.

"You're new at this, aren't you?" Nightwing asked, keeping his tone light.

"Shut up! I'm thinking!" Nightwing shrugged. A moment later, the operative spoke again. "Put your hands behind your back."

"You got it." As he moved to comply, he pressed a stud on his gauntlet and was rewarded with a shriek of pain. Smiling, he unholstered his escrima, spun and lashed out, going for the pressure points in his erstwhile captor's arms. "Actually," he said, yanking the gun out of the operative's hands, "they're working a bit better, now. Uh… sorry about the magnesium. It's kinda bright even if you aren't wearing night-vision goggles. You'll be okay," he added, laying a friendly hand on the operative's shoulder. "By the way, congratulations on getting the drop on me. I shouldn't have been distracted. No hard feelings." As he spoke, he was securing the operative's hands with a plastic tie. "If you want some friendly advice? Find another line of work. Next time, the cape you go up against might not be as nice." He took hold of the operative's elbow and steered him back to the supply closet he'd passed earlier. "In you go," he said, pulling the door open. "Oh, and uh… watch your step," he added apologetically. "A couple of your friends are already there ahead of you."

Her assignment completed, the young woman that H.I.V.E. knew as Amy Beddoes zipped the files she'd retrieved, encrypted them as she'd been instructed, and prepared to send them to Jim Crenshaw. Before she did, though, she added some extra coding to her protocols that would enable her to trace where her message was going and when it would be opened.

The file started on its journey and stopped cold. Amy frowned. Was it a server issue on his end, or…?

All at once, she smiled. Crenshaw had been smart enough to route his prior communications through various proxies and satellite relays to disguise his point of origin. He was good, too; it had taken her systems longer than usual to follow the trail back. But they'd come through in the end and now, unless she missed her guess, he had far more serious things to worry about.

"At least one thing's cleared up," she grinned. "Up until now, I wasn't sure whether I was being recruited by Kingpin's syndicate or by H.I.V.E.; the files you had me locating were a real mix." She sighed. "It's lucky for you I happen to be one of the good guys, or I might just tell Wilson Fisk what you're up to and let him deal with you." Her grin turned malicious. "Then again, considering how many heroes are converging on the Schenectady area right now, by the time this is over, you could find yourself wishing that I'd let Fisk take care of you, after all."

Maybe her thoughts weren't particularly nice right now, but in the words of Stephen Sondheim, 'nice' was different than 'good'.

"This is too easy," Batman muttered. "We haven't tripped any alarms. We haven't encountered any patrols. Now I have their base in visual range and there's no sign of personnel. Could they have somehow tricked us into coming to an abandoned base?"

Daredevil considered. "I guess it's possible, but given that they tried to shoot us down, I'm still going to say we've arrived at Yavin Four, and not Dantooine."

"What?"

"Uh… Star Wars reference. See, the Empire is interrogating Leia to get her to give the location of the rebel base and—"

"Star Wars," Batman repeated disbelievingly.

Daredevil sighed. "We can strike that from the record if you want."

"Yes." Batman paused for a beat. "There is no way that we should be identifying with the Empire for any reason. Let's move. Carefully."

"Did you just—?" He broke off as Batman gestured for silence. Probably just as well. He'd been about to ask his companion whether he'd just cracked a joke. He ought to know better by now. Batman didn't joke. Much.

Wilson Fisk listened intently to the voice on the other end of the telephone. "I see. Yes. Thank you. This is most enlightening." He frowned then, thinking. "No, I don't think we should move quite yet. There is no hurry. Let us, in the words of Arthur Henderson, 'survey the position, consider carefully the action we must take, and then address ourselves to our task in a mood of sober resolution and quiet confidence, without haste and without pause.' We can afford to be prudent," he smiled grimly. "We'll bide our time."

He was still smiling as he hung up the phone. Beach vitex in North Carolina, Burmese pythons in the Everglades, emerald ash borers in New York… Nightwing on a H.I.V.E. base. Invasive organisms often spelled disaster for their new environments.

It was one reason that he'd taken care to dispose of Batman on public land, using a method unlikely to be traced back to him. Even the van in which the vigilante had been locked was licensed to one of his shell corporations, buried under so many numbered holding companies that only the most dedicated investigator would be likely to trace its ownership back to him. And even if they could, it was a corporate vehicle that he'd had reported stolen some months earlier. Of course, if the police or one of Batman's allies had come to him, he would have expressed dismay at one of his vans having been used for so tragic a purpose. He would have been most cooperative on all scores. And they would have left, unable to prove that he'd had a hand in the vigilante's demise.

But H.I.V.E. had, apparently, captured Nightwing the evening before—or so his contact in that organization had reported. Less than an hour ago, their base in the Schenectady area, not far from Troy, had gone offline, when the region had been hit by some sort of electromagnetic pulse.

Kingpin didn't believe in coincidence.

Nightwing was responsible for this. Perhaps directly, perhaps not. The young vigilante had powerful connections and, while Kingpin had yet to confirm Batman's whereabouts or condition, he knew better than to discount the intervention of such organizations as the Titans, the JLA, or the Justice Society. And if Daredevil was involved, that could mean even more costumed adventurers flocking to his aid.

With any luck, Kingpin wouldn't need to take any action against H.I.V.E. whatsoever. He could simply sit back and watch as the world's so-called heroes removed that thorn from his side.

It was shaping up to be a glorious morning.

Nightwing wondered how many more operatives he'd need to take down. He was running out of plastic ties. Not to mention supply closets. He still held out hope that he might stumble upon some working radio that had been shielded from his EMP, but even his optimism was starting to flag. Hadn't these guys ever heard of a Faraday cage? Or storing electronics in a metal filing cabinet?

A high-pitched whine startled him and he whirled to find himself staring down the business end of some sort of hi-tech rifle with more lights than the average Christmas tree blinking along its barrel. "Hold it right there," a measured voice stated.

Nightwing raised his hands with a sigh. Apparently, some of them had…

"Still no guards," Batman muttered. "No traps, no alarms. I don't like this."

Daredevil nodded absently. He was still listening for rustling leaves that the wind couldn't account for, for soft clicks that indicated they'd tripped some defense, for quiet footfalls and the slide of a blade being drawn or the clack of a gun being cocked. Nothing.

They were almost to the compound now and it was still eerily silent. Birds flew overhead. Some yards away, a squirrel was scolding someone or something, possibly the two of them. The branches shook a bit in the breeze. But he could detect no human heartbeat, no mechanical whirr or hum, no sign that their presence had been detected at all. Daredevil took a breath. "Assuming that this isn't an abandoned base, you don't think that they might have been experimenting with something hazardous that… that got out of hand?"

Batman was silent for a long moment. "I've been hoping that I could rule that out," he admitted. "Unfortunately, I can't."

They walked on in silence. All at once Daredevil stopped. "I'm picking up a heartbeat," he said carefully. It's coming from that column by the gate."

"Column?" Batman repeated. Then, understanding, "You mean the guard booth at the left."

"Probably," Daredevil nodded. "Unfortunately, my radar sense can be a little crude sometimes."

Batman grunted. "That heartbeat," he said, "can you pick up anything about the emotional state of its owner?"

Daredevil frowned. "He's nervous, I think," he said after a moment. "It's not full-blown panic, but something's definitely got him spooked. Or her," he added. "No reason to assume it's a man in there."

"Noted," Batman grunted again. He reached into his belt and extracted something.

Daredevil guessed it was a batarang. He unholstered his billy-club and twisted the two halves apart. "Ready?"

Batman didn't dignify that with a reply.

"Don't ask me why they want you alive," the operative snarled from behind him. "If I had my way…"

Nightwing kept his hands in the air. "Well, I'm grateful to your higher-ups, then," he said easily. "And you should be, too."

"How's that?" the operative snapped. "Walk."

Nightwing shrugged. "I tend to go easier on people who aren't trying to kill me." All at once, he whirled about and flicked a nightarang at his captor. The blade sank into the other man's upper arm and he hissed in pain. The muzzle of the gun dipped low and Nightwing slammed an escrima down on his wrist, while delivering a blow to the side of the drone's other shoulder with his second stick. "You're lucky I'm not Batman," he muttered, tearing off the man's night-vision goggles. "He gets angry when you point these things at him. Nobody likes that. Uh… I don't mean to say that he gets Hulk-level angry, but you still wouldn't like it." He was really getting low on plastic ties, but maybe he'd run out of drones before his supply was completely gone. He grabbed his prisoner by one elbow and hauled him to his feet.

"Sorry," he murmured, when the man stifled a scream. "I am still going easy."

There were no supply closets nearby. Nightwing tried a door and found it unlocked. It appeared to be some sort of classroom or briefing room. He shoved the drone inside and grabbed a nearby chair. Then he exited, closing the door behind him and wedging the chair under the knob.

A loud blast startled him. It had been close—maybe fifty yards away. He rounded a corner and realized that this part of the corridor was lighter than the part he'd just left. He made his way cautiously forward, alert for any danger that might lie ahead.

The lone guard had almost seemed glad see them. When the two vigilantes had reached his outpost, he'd sounded as though he was crying, babbling about some sort of alien invasion.

"Isn't that what they do?" he'd moaned. "Disable all communications and then beam us up to their ships and fly us to their homeworld and… and eat us!?"

Batman had tilted his head toward Daredevil, who had shrugged. "Clearly," the crimson swashbuckler murmured, "I've been hanging out with the wrong aliens."

"Likewise," Batman returned, not quite able to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Here." He passed Daredevil a pair of handcuffs. "Secure him. I'll see about getting inside."

"Y-you can't," the guard stammered nervously. "Not without the door code."

"Which is?"

The guard shook his head. "It's 1234, but it won't help you. When I lost contact, I tried to get inside and couldn't. With the electronics disabled, the doors won't work."

Batman sighed. "We do have other ways," he replied.

"Hang on," Daredevil said skeptically. "Your access code is 1234? Seriously?"

"Let it lie," Batman advised. "Imagination has never been one of H.I.V.E.'s fortes. Wait here. I may need to use explosives to get through the door. Loud ones."

"Noted."

As Batman headed for the heavy metal doors, Daredevil was still wrapping his head around the guard's disclosure. "1234," he repeated. "So is that the access code for all your bases or just this one?"

There was something to be said for ordinary detonators: while they were cruder and less safe than the electronic varieties, they were still functioning despite the EM pulse that had taken out Batman's more sophisticated equipment.

He wasn't completely positive that an EM pulse was the culprit, but the theory fit the facts and he would use it as a working hypothesis until and unless something happened along to disprove it.

It occurred to him that there might be people inside trying to escape. The explosive shouldn't be powerful enough to do more than take out the doors. Even so, the debris might injure someone. He thought for a moment. Then he pulled out his grapnel and tapped the launcher slowly and deliberately against the metal door. He listened for a response and received none.

He frowned. Then he rapped on the doors with his grapnel again, this time tapping out a specific message in Morse code: -. . - / -... .- -.-. -.- Get back. He repeated the sequence a second time and then a third, hoping that the sound would penetrate if anyone was on the other side. He was far from an optimistic man. Nevertheless, sometimes a person simply had no choice other than to do what was necessary and hope for the best.

He thrust the blasting cap into the C-4, lit the fuse, and did so.

His night-vision goggles were off; the light was growing steadily brighter as Nightwing drew near. He had no idea how many operatives there were between him and the daylight and he didn't know whether he was about to face a worse threat.

He relaxed when two familiar figures came sharply into view. "Man!" he exclaimed, striding quickly toward Batman and Daredevil. "Am I glad to see you guys!"

Batman gave him a terse nod of acknowledgment, but the slight smile on his face betrayed the older man's relief. "H.I.V.E.?" he demanded.

Nightwing shrugged. "I think you'll find most of them in the supply closets. I had to stuff the rest in empty rooms when I ran out of space."

Daredevil's jaw dropped slightly. "You're telling me you've taken out a H.I.V.E. base single-handedly?"

"Yeah, just about," Nightwing admitted. "I mean, I've really just locked up every drone I could find; I'm sure the higher-ups are still walking around, but since I've stuck them in the dark, without access to their high-tech toys, there's not a whole lot they can do."

"Wait," Batman's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying," he went on dangerously, "that you're responsible for the power and communications blackout?"

Nightwing gulped. "Um… maybe?"

The three of them working together had little trouble corralling the rest of the hostiles. A few put up a struggle, but they weren't used to fighting in total darkness. Daredevil, on the other hand, was a master of that art. And while a handful of operatives had working night-vision equipment, Batman and Nightwing had plenty of flares. And Batman had a fresh supply of plastic cuffs.

"I should start carrying those," Daredevil admitted. "My billy-club line will work in a pinch, but—"

"—It ties up your billy clubs, as well as the crooks," Nightwing quipped.

"Yeah."

The three made their way back to the entrance. "This is going to be interesting," Daredevil noted as they stepped out into the sunshine. "Batman and I have a motorcycle stashed a few miles back in the woods, but I doubt it can carry three."

Nightwing sighed. "Well, I'm sure we'll figure something ou…" his voice trailed off as he saw a speck in the distant sky drawing closer.

"What is that?" he asked. "Reinforcements?"

Batman sucked in his breath. "Not for H.I.V.E." he muttered. He turned to Daredevil. "Friends of yours, I believe."

"Are they?" Daredevil frowned. "I'm picking up the sound of a jet engine, but I'm not close enough to pick up a heartbeat, if I could even hear it over the jet."

"Well," Nightwing grinned, "if you could see, it'd be hard to miss that big number four painted on the front."

"A four?" Daredevil repeated. "As in Fantastic Four?"

"That's the one."

"We don't need their help," Batman snapped.

"I don't know," Daredevil said thoughtfully. "They might be able to give us a lift to the airport."

They said nothing further until the Fantasticar landed and its occupants emerged. Greetings and introductions were made—some more enthusiastically than others. Finally, with some irritation, Batman demanded, "Why are you here?"

"Hey!" the Thing snapped, "Kwitcherbeefin'. We was in da neighborhood an' Oracle asked if we could pop by, seein' as how she ain't heard from ya in hours."

Nightwing sighed. "That was my fault, sorry," he admitted. "I was stuck on a H.I.V.E. base and it was just a matter of time until they caught me, so I gave them something else to worry about. Unfortunately, it affected virtually everything electronic in the area." He blinked. The expressions on the newcomers' faces all showed varying degrees of anger. "What?"

Mr. Fantastic took a deep breath. "Do you have any idea how much ground your EMP covered?" he demanded.

"Excuse me?"

As the leader of the team explained precisely the nature of the emergency that they'd responded to, Nightwing felt his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach.

"Don't you think you should maybe go over to him?" Daredevil gestured to where Nightwing sat on a rock some distance away, his back to them, his shoulders hunched, his head lowered.

Batman shook his head. "He needs time to process this."

"Alone."

Batman hesitated. "Yes."

Daredevil frowned. "Question for you," he said slowly. "Which one of us are you trying to fool? Because my lie detector is practically screaming right now—and it wouldn't be if you actually believed what you just told me."

Batman exhaled. "I… don't know what to say to him."

Daredevil shrugged. "Who said you had to talk? Just… go over to him." He hesitated. "Unless you're okay with seeing him tear himself apart over this, I mean."

Batman was silent for a long moment. Then he took a deep breath. "No," he said softly. "I'm not." He strode toward the rock.

Daredevil turned away to give him the illusion of privacy, but his radar sense gave him 'eyes' in the back of his head. The truth was, he didn't actually need his radar to tell the moment when Batman put his hand on his shoulder. He probably could have heard the younger man's sigh of relief from where he was standing, even without his enhanced hearing.

"It could have been worse," Sue Storm-Richards said with a sigh and a reassuring smile. They were at the spot where Batman had stashed the motorcycle and she watched as her husband and Batman stood deep in conversation, tools strewn willy-nilly on the ground about them. "The EMP might have hit the Rensselaer Plateau hard, but it barely touched Albany and it didn't affect Schenectady at all."

"I still should have…" Nightwing murmured.

The Invisible Woman shook her head. "You were hiding in a H.I.V.E. nest, putting a weapon together under their noses. It's not as though you had time to test it."

"Then I shouldn't have used it."

His voice must have carried further than he'd realized, because Batman immediately stepped away from Reed Richards and came toward them. "Sometimes," he said, shaking his head, "a person simply has no choice other than to do what's necessary and hope for the best. The latter is one of your strengths," he added without so much as a hint of a smile. "In hindsight, there were other options."

"I should have seen them."

"Um… Sorry to intrude," Daredevil said diffidently. The two started at the sound of his voice. They'd missed seeing him approach. "I just… couldn't help overhearing," he continued. "Not that that should be news to anyone. Anyway, from what you told us earlier, before you set off that pulse, H.I.V.E. was going to scorch the earth where Batman and I were standing."

"Yes, but—"

Daredevil held up a hand. "But nothing. You had to decide fast and you did. If you could have contacted us to ask what you should do, I'm… pretty sure that we would have told you not to take the risk. However," he added quickly, "you couldn't contact us, you made your choice, and thankfully," he smiled, "the situation it caused was brought back under control pretty quickly. And you want to know something else?" he asked. "I can't say I'm sorry to be alive."

"Yeah," Nightwing replied, "but—"

"But nothing," Daredevil repeated. I don't know what I would have done if I'd been in your shoes. I…" he shook his head ruefully, "I do know that if I'd done what you did, I'd probably be beating myself up, too, right about now. And, no matter how justified I thought I was in doing so, I'd… like to think that someone would be around to remind me that things didn't turn out as badly as they could have." He sighed. "You did good. Next time, you'll do better."

"You hope."

Daredevil shook his head. "I know. Because since you are beating yourself up over this, I'll lay good money that a few hours from now, you'll be reviewing everything you did and figuring out how you'll keep something like this from happening again." He smiled. "Well?" He held out his hand. "Would I be throwing away my hard-earned dollars?"

Nightwing shook his head slowly. Then he clasped the extended hand. "No," he said with a faint smile in his voice. "You wouldn't."

In the Titans' jet, Daredevil strapped himself into a seat in the passenger cabin and settled back. Batman and Nightwing were in the cockpit, which meant that he had the area to himself—a welcome change from what usually happened when he flew. It wasn't just the solitude. Normally, he was pretty good at tuning out other people's sounds and smells. He wouldn't have been able to function otherwise. But stick him in an airtight metal tube with a hundred or so other people and when, besides the stale air, he also had to deal with the smells from the in-flight food, to say nothing of the snacks and meals brought aboard by his fellow passengers, the perfumes, colognes, aftershaves, and deodorants that masked, but never entirely hid, the body's natural odors, the lingering smell of disinfectant and other cleaning supplies, whispered conversations that practically screamed in his ears… Suffice it to say that flying was far from his preferred mode of travel.

This, however, was almost pure bliss. He was starting to drift off when he heard the cockpit door open and recognized a familiar boot-tread. He put his seat back in the upright position. "Somehow," he said, "I don't think you're here to offer me coffee, tea, or milk."

"No." Batman took the seat directly across the aisle from him. "We've had a communication from Cyborg. Infomorph escaped custody and returned to the tower, where she retrieved the data she'd stolen earlier from Baron and Baron."

Daredevil pushed back his cowl and massaged his forehead. "The data that could have helped to exonerate you," he groaned.

"Yes."

"So we saved the day, but as far as your case is concerned, we're all the way back to square one." Matt sighed. "Terrific."