I gotta say, everyone was on point with the location in the previous chapter. Good job, everyone! Considering how long ago Rise of the Fifty Daggers was posted, I wasn't certain if anyone remembered. Consider me impressed.
"And you said he did this with a kick?" Batgirl questioned.
"For the tenth time, yes, I did," Bluebird replied exasperatedly. "He kicked the wall over there and then he tried to stomp my head there. In fact, I'm pretty damn certain he was getting stronger the longer we fought."
Batgirl stared down at the cracked floor, where Bluebird claimed this Orphan tried to stomp on her. While concrete could be broken with bare hands, it took years of training before attempting such a feat. In fact, there were only a handful of martial arts masters that could break a cinder block, not taking into account meta-humans.
Based off of the damage she saw, she could see where Bluebird fell under the impression her foe was getting stronger throughout the fight. There was a lone crack in the wall and then a spider's web of cracks on the floor. Chances were this Orphan wasn't restraining himself as the fight wore on.
"Anything else?" she questioned as she stood up, turning her head away from the cracked floor.
The blue-haired vigilante made a show of thinking. "You know, he did say a few odd things. I'm pretty certain he was hoping to fight you since he seemed disappointed to see me and S.O.B. over there."
"It's Son of Batman, girl," Damian seethed.
"Which S.O.B. is short for. If you don't like it, change the name."
The boy just glowered. "What makes you say he was disappointed?" Spoiler asked, clearly wanting to get things back on track.
"Well, he said he was disappointed and that he would settle for her underlings." Bluebird pointed at herself and then Damian. "That's us, by the way."
"I am not anyone's underling," the brat snapped.
"Tell Orphan that. He's the one that said it," the teenage girl shrugged.
Damian's sulking aside, Batgirl chose to ignore her team as she thought back to the white-dressed man. It was definitely a combat suit, though stealth seemed to be an afterthought. White stood out in dark places, so while the suit's style would have fitted a ninja, there wasn't a ninja that would use it save for being in the arctic perhaps.
Then there were his words. He claimed to have left clues behind, she just needed to follow them. In fact, they had followed one here allegedly. The only reason they were here though was because they were following the elements of limestone found on a shoeprint…
A shoeprint left in Wayne Manor…
Batgirl tightened her fist. Was this the person that stole the gun? If so, they had finally found the mastermind, the true killer of Vesper Fairchild. And if his claim of clues was to be believed, he left that partial shoeprint on purpose. He wanted them to come here.
No, he wanted her to come here.
"So, does anyone want to get out of this place?" Spoiler then asked. "If that guy was waiting here for us, then maybe he left some boobytraps behind? I don't want to get trapped by one."
"Not yet," Batgirl responded. "We were brought here for a reason. Spread out and search for a clue."
Bluebird frowned. "What clue? Aside from the signs of our fight, the only suspicious thing is that dark spot in the middle of the room. Pretty certain it's old blood."
Batgirl glanced to the dark spot mentioned. Giving it a moment of study, she could practically spot the castoff pattern, then the trail that led out of this chamber and back to the sewer. Based off of the color, it had been a very long time ago.
"Which reminds me. Think we can run a sample off of that?" Bluebird asked.
Batgirl wasn't certain why it needed to be done. The initial blood-letting had been done quite a long time ago, so whatever sample that could be recovered would be greatly degraded. They would be lucky if they got a partial reconstruction.
At the same time, what would it hurt? This could be a clue Orphan left behind. Reaching to her belt, she pulled out a thin, plastic vial, along with a Q-tip and a small spray bottle. Moving over to the dark spot, she took a knee and got to work. Removing the Q-tip from its paper packaging and the cap off of the spray bottle, she sprayed the Q-tip head before placing it on the floor, dragging it along the spot. Raising it up, she could see the dull red discoloration on the Q-tip.
Hmm, maybe this would be more promising than she thought.
"So was this guy just waiting for you here?" Spoiler then asked.
"I guess so," Bluebird shrugged. "I mean, he attacked us from behind, so he was well-hidden." She then paused, frowning as she thought of something. "Actually, he really could have hurt us had he not said anything."
"What did he say?"
"It was…was…damn what was it? It wasn't words, I think."
"It was a sound," Damian agreed. "An onomatopoeia."
"A sound effect?" Spoiler questioned. "What sound?"
"Hoot, hoot."
Batgirl had been placing the Q-tip in the vial and twisting the cap into place when she froze. That sound…she knew that sound. There were only so many people that purposefully used it. Nearly twisting her head around, she demanded, "Are you certain? Are you certain he said that?"
"Yes, Usurper," Damian growled back. "Which was stupid of him. He should have kept silent and he would have killed Blue-head over there."
"Blue-head huh? Gotta do better than that, S.O.B.," Bluebird responded, a smirk on her face.
Batgirl stood up, staring at the ceiling of the room. It couldn't be. Her sample supplies laying forgotten on the floor, she shoved a hand into a pouch on her belt and she pulled out a small device, one her father called a palm pilot. It was supposed to have access to the main computer, the one under Wayne Manor, but due to very specific reasons it was now connected to the BatCave's computer. All she needed was the GPS function, which she brought up the moment she activated it.
"What are you doing now?" Damian asked.
"Be quiet, Jerkface," she mumbled back as she watched a grid of Gotham City appear on the screen. A dot began flashing over and over, indicating their current location. Using her thumb to enter a command on the small keyboard on the palm pilot, she put in a request for the address they were currently under.
The result came back nearly immediately. Her hand tightened on the device before she turned it off and shoved it into her belt. Glancing around, she focused on the walls, spotting the area with the lone crack in it. More importantly, there weren't any fuse boxes or wire coverings on that portion of the wall.
Spotting a fuse box next to that clear area of wall, the dark-clad girl walked towards it. "Are you going to leave us in suspense, or are you going to tell us what the hell you are doing?" Damian demanded impatiently.
She ignored him, reaching the fuse box. Raising up both hands, she grabbed onto one side of it and on it. The fuse box pulled away from the wall, its opposite end revealing hinges on its inner side. More importantly, there was a small lever behind it, one the girl grabbed and pulled down.
Immediately, the clear portion of the wall slid to one side, revealing a staircase behind it. There had been no sound, just a silence that seemed strange in a place like a sewer. Peering up the stairs, she noticed on one of the steps a white, partial shoeprint, one very much like the one she had seen in Wayne Manor.
"Okay, how did you know that was there?" Bluebird questioned. "How long has that been there?"
Batgirl turned away from the stairs and looked at her fellow Batclan members…and Damian. "Above us is the Powers Hotel," she told them. "The former headquarters of the Court of Owls."
Three heads jerked up, staring at the ceiling much like she had previously. "Wait, wait, the Court of Owls is involved in this?" Spoiler replied incredulously.
"Impossible," Damian said. "My grandfather dispatched their last members when he came to Gotham. That was after my father dwindled their numbers down following their so-called Talon Attack."
"He went after their members," Batgirl confirmed, "but not their assassins."
Bluebird lowered her head to look at the dark-clad girl. "So this Orphan guy could be one of those Talons that got forgotten?"
"It's possible, but we won't know until we investigate." Batgirl pulled out a batarang. "There's no telling what's left up there, so be on your guard."
"There was a footprint found in the office with the gun. We got a lab to analyze it and it came back with limestone in it. Which doesn't make sense since there aren't any places in Gotham with limestone."
"Just the quarries outside of Gotham. That is, if you discount the older parts of Gotham."
"Older parts?"
"Limestone was used in the earlier construction of the city. Much of it was removed as the city modernized, but there's a few places with it still. I had to do a survey of it some time ago, just before you came to the Manor. I might have a file or two saved on it."
"I'll have the detective look into it. I'll keep you updated if we find anything."
Allen hit the stop button, one hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He stared at the computer screen, an audio recorder program displayed.
These were recordings captured in the visitor's center at Blackgate, specifically of the ones recorded for Bruce Wayne. This was his third listening and he could tell something was off. The way Wayne talked with his adopted daughter, it sounded like they were speaking in code.
"Is it just me, or are these two talking in code?" Montoya echoed his thoughts.
"That's what it sounds to me," Allen agreed. "Which means they're very well aware that we have listening devices. No doubt Wayne was warned of it."
Montoya nodded. "The thing is, they could be talking about something that gets Wayne off. They mentioned that footprint we found in Wayne Manor."
Yeah, Allen heard that. The Wayne girl had a private lab do an analysis on it and it came back with limestone in the composition. Chances were that limestone came part of Wayne's driveway, so he didn't put much stock into it. All they had to do was sneak a sample and get confirmation. Naturally it had to be on the down low since the Waynes were no longer cooperating.
What got his attention, however, was that Wayne claimed to have done a survey for limestone and found sources of it in Gotham. Why was a billionaire doing a survey for limestone? As far as he knew, Wayne Enterprises wasn't in the market for limestone.
So what was the point of the survey?
Allen reached for the computer and hit the rewind button. Once he reached the time marker he wanted, he then pressed play.
"So what did the P.I. find?"
"Money transfers to the judge on your case. I imagine you've heard he's removed himself from the trail."
"So the money came from…?"
"We think it was her, or at least some account with her name on it. Damian confirmed it."
And pause again. "'We think it was her'," Allen quoted. Just before this part of the conversation, this Damian kid had been mentioned and it sounded like the Wayne girl didn't like him. But he confirmed a money transfer, meaning he knew where the money found in Judge Turnball's account came from.
"That's in reference to a Talia," Montoya responded, holding up her little notepad. "Wayne said she had come to see him."
Because this was their third run-through, they had gathered info on the various people. Following a search on Talia and Damian, they had come up with Talia and Damian Head. They were a mother and son of a rival company, Head Development Corp.
And there were quite a few paparazzi photos of these two with Wayne and Wayne's Daughter.
So they knew each other, that much was obvious. In fact, Blackgate had a record of Talia Head having a conjugal visit with Wayne just a few nights ago. Heh, even the rich didn't go to prison like the rest of them. Allen had seen a picture of Head and she was quite the looker.
When the report on Turnball's bribery came out, naturally the GCPD had done their own investigation and they had found the money transfers. That much was true, annoyingly enough. However, they hadn't been able to identify the accounts, not until this conversation indicated Talia Head had been the one to send the money transfers.
Yet, Turnball had ordered Wayne to Blackgate. If Head was so friendly with Wayne, it should have been the opposite. Clearly, she hadn't gotten her money's worth. It was quite possible Turnball had taken the money and did his job regardless, which would make Head the most likely leak to get him removed, a retaliation attempt that was quite successful.
While Allen could rationalize this out, the very concept was troubling. "So, here's what I don't get," he said out loud. "Wayne's kid is claiming they have proof of corruption, even knowing who is responsible, but they haven't turned a single shred of it over to us. Doesn't that strike you as weird?"
Montoya glanced to him. "You heard the girl, she doesn't trust us. Why else would she hire her own P.I. team?"
"All of this will come out in court, though," Allen pointed out. "There's the discovery process the lawyers go through, so they have to tell each other what evidence they're going to present. So it makes no sense for them to keep this away from us, especially if its evidence that can exonerate Wayne."
"Maybe they don't have enough?" his fellow detective suggested. "We didn't charge Wayne until we had enough proof to lock him away. They could be doing the same with trying to find the evidence that proves he wasn't the killer."
"Which would go a long way to discrediting us," he grunted. Yeah, he could see that girl wanting to do that to the GCPD. She couldn't have picked a better time either to do this as there were still protests over police brutality cases across the nation. It was just another nail in their coffin in destroying the public's confidence in the police.
"We could always go talk with her," Montoya said. "Maybe she'll be willing to speak with us now."
"Doubt it. No way we get close to her without going through a hundred lawyers, not without some sort of warrant. Turnball screwed us in that regard; no judge is going to sign a warrant without probable cause, and I doubt any of them see some girl doing her own investigation as warrant-deserving.
"Then what about Wayne?"
Allen perked up at that. "What about Wayne?"
"He's currently a prisoner, so we don't need a warrant to speak with him. He might be more willing to speak, especially if what his team is finding out can free him."
Now that was a good point. Hell, the worst Wayne could do was say he wanted to speak to his lawyer, but not before they grilled him. Wayne wasn't known for having that much of a backbone. They could potentially break him quick, especially after being in prison for so long.
Allen got him to talk once; he could do it again.
Up the stairs they went. It spiraled around, causing the three Batclan members and Damian to circle their way up the stairs.
It had been quite some time since they started, but that was because they were being cautious. Any false step and they would activate a trap that could kill them all. It was tedious work, but it was better to take their time than to get themselves killed.
Yet, nothing happened. Even when they reached the top of the stone stairs, ones built over a century ago, they hadn't encountered a death trap. That wasn't right, not when the Court of Owls were concerned. Their existence went hand-in-hand with secrecy. On the off-chance someone discovered those stairs, there should have been some protection.
"Where to now?" Bluebird asked as she gazed around the landing they were on. To the left was a wooden door, one that looked as if it belonged in a 19th century mansion rather than the hidden floors of an assassin's basement. The same sort of door was to the right and there was another straight ahead.
"Left," Batgirl answered as she began walking towards the door. There was no suggestion of splitting up, not that she would agree to it. They were on enemy turf, so they needed to protect themselves.
Even Damian.
Reaching the door, she grabbed the knob and gave it a turn, finding it unlocked. Opening the door, there was an empty room. Its only decor were shelves and racks. There was a flash of memory before Batgirl's eyes. She could recall each and every shelf and rack had been holding weapons. Throwing stars, short swords, knives, the list went on. Whatever the Talons needed, they were kept here. So strange to find it empty.
Or perhaps not. After the Talon Attacks, the Court of Owls must have emptied it. Either that, or the GCPD found it and confiscated everything. It was something to look into at the least.
Closing the door, Batgirl turned, seeing Bluebird, Spoiler, and Damian, in that order, behind her. "Aren't we going in?" Damian demanded, his katana in hand.
"It's empty," she grunted as she pointed back the way they came. "We go to the middle door."
"Not the right one?" the boy snarked.
The dark-clad girl shook her head. "It'll be empty too. It was a supply closet."
"How can you be sure when you haven't checked it?"
"Because that's what I remember being in there. Unless you want to find extra blankets and toilet cleaner, I suggest we go to the middle door."
Damian stared at her before he backed away, even stepping to one side. Spoiler and Bluebird did the same, allowing Batgirl past them. She went for the middle door, Damian right behind her, and the girls after that. Opening the unlocked door, she walked into yet another memory.
Rows upon rows of prospective Talons stood in white gis. They punched the air, one fist at a time, all in uniformity. "Huuh!" they shouted in unison with each punch they made.
The memory of those men faded away, leaving behind the training dojo. This was where they all trained, practicing their martial arts. Batgirl remembered seeing it, but she never participated with the men. She only ever trained with David Cain. She did the same katas, the same spars, the same weapons training, all of it. She was only ever by herself though, Cain being her only training partner.
"I call this the Suicide Drill. Your goal is to kill me. You can't, but try."
She had to shake her head. Why was it so surprising she remembered these things here? She practically grew up here. Still, she felt as if she shouldn't be; that these memories were wrong.
In hindsight, yes they were. She had been raised without speaking a single word; she learned to read body language so well, it was the only language that she knew. She was practically a teenager when she first heard words, but they made no sense to her. That short speech about the Suicide Drill was one of the first she had ever heard.
"What is this place?" Spoiler asked as she looked around.
"The training dojo," Batgirl replied absently. Her eyes drifted over to a door. Unlike the fancy one they had just used, this one looked in place with the rest of these hidden floors. It was old, appearing shoddily made. None of the other Talon candidates were allowed through it.
But she was.
The dark-clad girl found herself drawn to the door, unconsciously walking towards it. She hadn't realized she had done that until she stood in front of the door. Blinking her eyes bewildered, she looked around her, finding the others right behind her.
Shaking herself out of her stupor, Batgirl opened the door and found a small room. She didn't need her memory to show her a little girl in neck-to-toe black standing in the middle of it, her dark hair hovering just above her thin shoulders. It did anyways.
This was her room.
This was where she went when training was done. This was where she ate and slept. This was where David Cain taught her to meditate, to center herself. Now, only a cot remained, bed sheets neatly made on it.
Hold on, bedsheets?
Batgirl stared at them before she realized just what she was looking at. Those were bed sheets that belonged on an actual bed, ones bought from some store, God knows where. When she had stayed here, she only had a pillow and blanket. Yet, these sheets were made, as if waiting for someone to return and sleep under them.
What the hell was this?
"I think we know where Orphan's been staying," Bluebird grunted as she came to stand next to the girl. "Didn't peg him for a neat freak."
"He can't have stayed here," Batgirl responded. "If he was a Talon, he wouldn't have been allowed in here."
"Why's that?"
"Because the Master at Arms forbade anyone but himself in here. He would have listened, even after his death."
"So this Master of Arms guy stayed here?"
She shook her head. "Is it another storage closet, but someone turned it into a bedroom?" Spoiler suggested.
Again, she shook her head, but she replied with, "This was my room."
There was silence. "I was kept away from the others right up until I was considered ready. I didn't hear a spoken word until a year or so before the Talon Attacks."
"No talking? Then how did you communicate?"
She held up her fists. "With violence."
Again, she caused silence, so she took that moment to walk up to the bedspread. Her eyes never moved from it, and because of this she saw something lying just where the blanket and sheet folded on top of each other. It was a knife, one she knew quite intimately.
She watched as Cain pulled out a knife and with practiced ease threw it at her. The point led the entire way, the girl staring as it rapidly closed the distance between them.
This was that same knife. Its edge was sharp, well-maintained. The hilt had a decorative owl head at the pommel. Cain had used it against her time after time. The last she had seen of it, Batman had thrown it away after it had been used in an attempt to take her life.
Why was it here?
"So did you sleep with that knife like a teddy bear?" Bluebird asked. "Because I can see you doing that for some reason."
That shook her out of her stupor. "These sheets are new," she declared. "We'll need to see where they came from and hopefully get an ID on the buyer. Orphan said he left clues behind for us to follow. Perhaps this is one of those clues."
As much as that made sense, Batgirl had her doubts, even as she said them. Why would this Orphan buy a bedspread and leave it behind, placing a knife her trainer had once owned on top of it? Clearly it was to get her attention, but she felt it had some other meaning.
Unfortunately, that meaning wasn't forthcoming.
The guards stood at attention, the door to the next chamber wide open. Talia walked right between them, passing through the open threshold. There were a couple more guards on the opposite side of the door, mirroring the ones on the outside of the room. These were the only ones visible; there were plenty of others within and out of sight.
On the opposite side of the room was a dais, a throne placed right at its center. Her father, the great Demon's Head, sat there, watching her with lively blue eyes. The white hair that started at his temple streaked further down the sides of his head, taking up more of his normally dark hair. The number of wrinkles had grown on his forehead since the last time she had seen him. He was aging, but still had many years left before he needed to bath himself in the waters of the Lazarus Pit.
"My daughter," Ra's al Ghul announced, a warmth in his voice that made her quite giddy. "It brightens my day whenever you grace me with your presence."
"Father," Talia responded as she approached him, coming to a stop a few steps away from the dais. Over her father's left shoulder was Ubu, who stood impassively with his arms at his sides. Those same arms would be crossed over his chest had she been anyone else. "You are looking quite well, I see."
"As well as can be expected. Age is beginning to set into my bones once more. You've noticed this, I'm certain."
"It is nothing Lazarus cannot undo."
"Quite." A small smile was on his face. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit of yours?"
As if he didn't already know. It seemed they were going to continue these pleasantries until her father wished to set them aside. She would play along, especially if she wanted his help, which she did. "I am certain you are aware of what has transpired in Gotham the last few months or so, specifically concerning my Beloved."
Her father nodded. "I am. It is quite an unusual predicament the Detective finds himself in. I have been following Gotham's news stations for updates."
"What is your position concerning this?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Concerning what, Daughter?"
He really was going to make her explain everything, wasn't he? So be it. "I wish to know what your position is in regards to the allegations against my Beloved. Do you think he committed the act or not?"
The Demon's Head stared at her before he shook his head. "No, he did not kill that woman. His aversion to killing is proof of this. However, the Detective is in this position simply because he will not forfeit his dual identity. Were he to do so, he could have ended this right at the beginning."
He wasn't wrong, Talia had to admit. Had her Beloved admitted to being the Batman, the GCPD would have never charged him with murder. There was a timeline of his escapades throughout the night, which would have removed him from suspicion. His stubborn refusal naturally removed this option even as it was his most effective one.
"It is because of this that I seek your help," she then said. "If he will not help himself, then I wish to do it on his behalf. My Order has yet to divine the true murderer thus far. I was hoping to use your vast resources to draw closer to this fiend."
"I will help you any way that I can," her father answered her, which caused her heart to soar. After the last couple of days, she needed the good news.
"Thank you, Father," she thanked him, bowing her head.
"There is one thing I wish to know, Daughter."
Naturally there was a catch, but Talia would willingly pay for it. Whatever it took to free her Beloved and bring Damian back to her arms. "What is it, Father?"
"What have you accomplished in Gotham since your decision to reside there?"
Talia blinked her eyes before she tilted her head back up. "Whatever do you mean?" she couldn't help but ask.
Ra's al Ghul shifted in his seat, making himself more comfortable. "You made the decision to stay in Gotham following the Detective's return and subsequent victory over Bane. I believe your reason at the time was to return the Detective to the fold, ensuring his allegiance with your shared child. I wish to know your progress in this matter."
"Progress has been made," she immediately assured him. "It has gone slower than I anticipated, but—"
"Daughter," her father interrupted her, "a glacier moves faster than the progress you have made."
The dark-haired woman wasn't certain how to respond to that. He wasn't wrong, not in the slightest, so she couldn't adequately defend herself.
"Thus far, you have taken one of my dummy corporations and turned it legitimate. You've embedded yourself in Gotham's business community. You do have an ownership stake in Wayne Enterprises—an excellent decision following your dealings with the Black Glove. Yet, you do not share a house, much less a bed, with the Detective. My grandson has yet to be named the heir to the Wayne fortune. In that regard, the Talon child is much closer. From where I stand, I see little change from the moment you arrived in Gotham and now."
When put that way, yes, it appeared she was no closer to her goal of being reunited with her Beloved and having the family she craved with him. Their night in Blackgate seemed to be a step in that direction, which was something she could build on—
"And now your own flesh-and-blood is with the Talon child rather than at your side," the Demon's Child continued. "The result of a framing you have yet to undo."
Alarms rang in Talia's head. How did he know about that? Those were recent developments and hadn't been shared, certainly not through the media. Her Order was loyal to her, so they shouldn't have shared anything. Of course, if her Father had gone to Gotham and demanded answers, they would have told him…
"How do you know about this?" Talia couldn't help but question.
Her father raised an eyebrow at her. "Is that really a question worthy of you, Daughter?"
Of course, he had his other Fangs, which meant he had a presence in Gotham that she hadn't known about. She should have expected as much. He was keeping surveillance over her as much as he was with the Detective, his claim of following the media a lie. "Do you have such little faith in us, Father?" she demanded. "Do you not believe we can accomplish our goals?"
"In this matter—no," Ra's al Ghul told her bluntly. "I have watched and waited, and I see no progress. I felt a test was necessary."
A test? Horror was beginning to well up within her. "What have you done?" She couldn't stop the words as they slipped out from her lips. She then shook her head. "It has been you this entire time, hasn't it?"
A small smile appeared on her Father's face, one that normally brought her comfort, but in this instance, it only caused her heart to sink. "I have not lifted my hand against your Beloved, of that you can be certain."
"Then why did you mention a test?" she demanded.
"Is it not obvious? It's because I know who the true murderer is."
