The Harbor House was an abandoned mansion on the outskirts of Gotham, near one of the rivers. It had been a meeting place for the Court of Owls, one of a few. Now it was just some rotting building the city had forgotten.
There were the expected signs of no trespassing, chains wrapped around the gate, and other things to prevent people from entering the house. This did nothing to stop the Batclan. They even went right through the front door after Batgirl picked the lock.
The outside of the building was slowly being reclaimed by nature, weeds and grass growing tall in the yard. Ivy and vines grew up the walls of the mansion. In contrast, the inside was immaculate. That really wasn't saying much as there was a thin layer of dust covering long forgotten furniture and pictures.
There was one thing that was setting off alarms in Batgirl's head. For one, a structure like this would have attracted people. Whether it was gangs looking for a hangout or things to steal, or urban explorers filming themselves searching the building, there would have been evidence of their presence left behind. There was a lack of graffiti on the outside and the inside. Even with the dust and dirt and grime covering the floor and walls, there weren't any footprints left. It was like no one had been here in some time.
"So how do you know about this place?" Bluebird questioned as she held up her taser gun. Her taser rifle was behind her, hanging from a strap around her shoulder. "I mean, Batgirl was actually in the Court, but she didn't know about this place."
"I knew about it," she grumbled. "I just didn't think of it first."
"The answer to that is simple," Damian replied haughtily. "The Court of Owls approached my grandfather for an alliance. He met with them here and dispatched their remaining members."
"Dispatch? As in killed?" Spoiler pressed.
"Yes, killed."
"Then what are we doing here?" the lavender-clad vigilante demanded. "If the Court is dead, then there's no way they're involved! That Orphan guy is just some...some dude on a revenge kick!"
Batgirl paused at that. Seriously, did they come here for no reason? If Ra's al Ghul did kill the last members of the Court, then they were done, finished, extinct. They had come here for nothing.
Though the Talons were deadly, they were only tools. Their minds only thought of the kill and how to accomplish it. To create a conspiracy, that took intelligence and creativity that the Talons simply didn't possess.
Damian just rolled his eyes, however. "The original members are dead, yes, but they weren't just rich people. They had assassins, they had people training these assassins. They had infrastructure maintained by regular people. Not everyone in secret society is a leader or assassin."
Alright, that was a good point and since Damian had been raised by the Demon's Fang, he had intimate knowledge of the inner workings of such an organization. So they were looking for someone with ties to the Court rather than the Court itself.
That didn't sound nearly as impressive.
"So how do we want to do this?" Spoiler questioned. "Split up or stay together?"
"Well, Batgirl and Spoiler are the two more experienced investigators," Bluebird said, then promptly wrapped an arm around the lavender-clad vigilante. "We'll check this room over here."
Batgirl narrowed her eyes as the two girls disappeared through an archway and into another room. Though it had happened quickly, she knew exactly what the blue-haired girl had just done. She had just taken the choice of who had to babysit Damian out of her hands.
Bitch.
Damian didn't look like he liked the situation any better. "Well, where do we go, Usurper?" he sneered.
Oh, she was going to get Bluebird back for this. "We'll take the upstairs, Jerkface," she shot back. "They can do the bottom floor."
The brat then bowed, holding an arm out in the direction they should go. "Lead the way."
Ignoring the taunt, Batgirl went further into the house until she found a staircase, Damian following behind her. The staircase was of wood, carpet covering it down its middle, albeit it was holey and rotten. Climbing the stairs, she was rather surprised not to hear any creaks, particularly from Damian. The integrity of the wood should have weakened, making it creak. She knew how to step to minimize, if not eliminate that sound. It seemed Damian knew as well.
Reaching the second floor, the landing they found themselves on went to the left and right, forming wings of the mansion. Picking the right hallway, she followed it, only stopping to open closed doors and peer inside.
Most of them were empty, save for abandoned furniture. These rooms were as furnished as the downstairs; one room only had a wardrobe, one of the doors partially opened; another room had a disassembled bed, the mattress stood up against the wall.
By now, Damian was checking the rooms too. They made quick work of the rooms, working their way down the hallway. They each took one side of the hallway, peering through the doors they opened and moving onto the next one.
It was the second to last door on Batgirl's side that made her stop. As she opened the door, she found this room to be clean. There was no dust or dirt to be found. A desk was on one side of the room, two chairs in front of it and a third on the opposite side. To the right was a wardrobe, one that was closed in comparison to the one she had seen previously.
Stepping into the room, she continued her examination. There were picture frames on the walls, ones of artwork that she paid little attention to. It was the desk that drew her attention.
Particularly a set of gloves that were lying on it.
Making certain there wasn't anyone else in the room, or a trap just waiting to be sprung, the dark-clad girl carefully made her way to the desk. Reaching the desk, she discovered the gloves were latex, something that belonged more in a hospital rather than an abandoned building. With one hand, she picked one of the gloves up at its mouth, holding it up. She turned it this way and that until she noticed something on the fingertips.
Bringing it closer to her face, she studied the fingertips until she made out a design. They looked like fingerprints if she wasn't mistaken.
"You found something," Damian stated as he came up right next to her. He stared at the gloves, just like her. "Latex gloves?" he sounded unimpressed.
"Gloves with fingerprints," she responded. Reaching to her belt, she pulled out a plastic bag, carefully placing the glove inside of it. The glove on the desk soon joined it. "We can do a search on the prints and see who was wearing them."
"They don't look inside out," the boy observed as he continued to look at them.
No, they didn't, did they? When someone took a rubber or latex glove off, it usually turned it inside out; yet, these looked as if they hadn't even been put on. And they had been left out in the open in the first room that looked clean and put together…
"Hoot, hoot."
Lights out had happened awhile ago. With no way to determine the passage of time, it could have been an hour, two hours, hell, maybe thirty minutes. Either way, Kate was certain she and the remaining captives were alone.
She had taken to sitting next to her cell door the last couple of nights. She would gaze down the corridor as far as she could, giving off the impression she was trying to look down it for whatever reason. Lock-Up had seen her whenever he did his patrols, but seemed to ignore her.
It would be awhile yet before he passed by. This was her chance. Shoving herself up onto her feet, she stood in front of her cell door, moving one hand through the bars and feeling around on the outer side. Eventually, she found the keyhole.
Keeping her fingers on it, she moved her other hand through the bars. Wrapped around her hand was the belt she had been wearing as part of her outfit. Clutched in her fingers was the buckle, the prong extended out.
She guided the prong into the keyhole and began blindly feeling out the locking mechanism. It took her longer than she liked, but eventually found the tell-tell resistance that told her she found the tumbler. Sticking her tongue out the corner of her mouth, she began trying to move the tumbler, feeling far more resistance than she had thought. Then again, this would be a larger tumbler and she was using a thin prong from a woman's belt. It wasn't the most sturdy of tools.
Even worse, she could swear she felt the prong bending as she strained to move the tumbler. Great, she just had to use a softer metal than the lock. That was just…just…
Wait…waaaaait…the tumbler moved. There was a familiar click and the door shifted. Immediately pulling her arms back through the bars, Kate slid the door open.
Alright, it was time to get to work.
So Kate had two options: one, she could make a run for it. Without knowing where she was, or if there were any means of escape—like a car—she could be out in the middle of nowhere. Lock-Up had his armored truck, so he could drive around while she was in a field somewhere.
Her second option was to find a control center, which was no doubt where Lock-Up went when he wasn't tormenting his prisoners. She could send out a signal that Oracle could pick up and send the Birds here.
She picked the second option. Knowing that going to her left took her by her fellow prisoners and out the way she came, Kate went the other direction, the one she normally saw Lock-Up come from when he started his patrol, short as it was. She crept down the long hallway of unused cells, seeing the exact same sight as her own cell.
It seemed Lock-Up was planning to keep a lot more people here.
Not liking that thought, Kate pressed on. The sound of her bare feet on the cold floor reached her ears. She had left her shoes back in the cell since they were rather impractical if she ended up in a fight. Eventually, she reached the end of the corridor, where it forced her to take a left. Moving to the corner, she pressed her back against the wall there and peered around it, seeing more prison cells…and a set of double doors at the end. Seeing the coast was clear, she moved around the corner and picked up her pace, reaching the doors shortly.
Pushing one of the doors opened, she found herself in a new part of the prison. No longer were there cells, but a regular hallway, one that was lit up with lights. With little choice, she continued down this hall, keeping on her guard.
This part gets rather long and boring. There were a series of doors that were all locked—she knew because she tried opening them with little success. For a moment, it made her wonder why this place had the lights on when she heard the sound of footsteps. They were coming from somewhere up ahead, most likely where the hallway made a forced left turn.
There was only one person that could be, unless there was someone else here that she didn't know about. Not wanting to be caught out in the open, Kate realized there weren't any places to hide. A few feet up ahead, there was a small enclave with a set of double doors, ones locked due to a heavy chain wrapped around the handles.
With little choice, she went into the enclave, pushing her back up against the small wall that was made. She steadied her breathing, willing it to slow down so as not to give away her location as the heavy footsteps grew louder.
That's when Lock-Up walked by. He didn't seem to notice her as he passed, heading down the way she had come from. Kate held her position until he made a turn, vanishing from sight.
Well, it was official, she was on a ticking clock. It wouldn't be long before Lock-Up noticed she wasn't in her cell and go looking for her. Hopefully he would go outside and search there first. That would buy her some time.
Going down the hallway until the forced left turn, she picked up her pace again. Her eyes darted from one side to the other as she searched for something, anything that didn't look as if it had been locked up for years.
She eventually found it. Out of all of the doors, she found one that was relatively clean compared to the others. On the floor was a cleared area, as if a door had been swinging outward and wiping away dirt and dust. Grabbing the doorknob, she turned it and finally opened an unlocked door.
What she found was no doubt the command center for this prison—perfect. Immediately locating a computer, she made a beeline for it, shoving aside the chair in front of it. Her fingers struck the keys on the keyboard, the computer monitor lighting up.
For a moment, Kate wasn't exactly sure what to do. She wasn't the most computer savvy, but she knew this was her chance to do something and she needed to take advantage of it. So what could she do?
Well, seeing as she was still in this prison and the Birds hadn't come busting in, even with the tracers on her body, there must have been a reason for it. So she did a search for a signal jammer. Much to her chagrin, she found one, which explained quite a lot. No wonder she hadn't been busted out already.
So naturally she shut the jammer down, then went about eliminating the program that ran it. Basically, she commanded the computer to uninstall the program. That should stop Lock-Up from turning it back on—
"And what is my little mouse up to?"
Kate jerked her head up. Standing in the doorway was Lock-Up, his baton in one hand, which he tapped over and over onto the palm of his other hand.
Well, shit, this had been the shortest prison escape ever.
"I don't suppose you want to stop what you're doing," she ventured.
"And why would I do that?" the large man rumbled as he took a step towards her, dropping his arms to his side.
"Because I've called the cops. They'll be here any minute."
A smirk appeared beneath the black material that covered his mouth. "Is that right? Even with the phone line disconnected?"
Shit, she should have known. "What the hell are you even doing?" she demanded then. "Why are you locking up all of these people?"
"Everyone that is here belongs here." By now, Lock-Up was standing on the other side of the desk, where the computer Kate was using sat.
"For what offense?" She backed away, trying to keep some distance between her and the large man. She wasn't equipped to handle him just yet. "And I don't want to hear whatever bullshit excuse you have. I want the truth."
"Convicts aren't privy to the truth," Lock-Up sidestepped the question. He also took a step alongside the front of the desk, causing her to stop. One way or another, he was going to try and corner her. She needed to prevent that. "This is your last chance to surrender, or I'll throw you in the Hole."
Now that didn't sound like a good place. However, what were the chances he would throw her in there anyway? After all, she had escaped her cell and he would want to make an example of anyone that tried to escape.
Well, if she was going to this Hole place anyways, she was going to definitely earn it.
Lunging forward, she leapt onto the desk and sprung off of it. Lock-Up wasn't expecting this as his eyes widened. She shot over his shoulder, arms extended over her head as if she were diving into a pool. Going into a flip, she landed on the floor and immediately took off for the door, shoving it open. She didn't hesitate as she bolted to her left, her feet slapping down on the floor with every step she took.
The chase was on!
The beeping caught Barbara off-guard.
It had been several days of searching, analyzing every frame she could of the armored truck that took Manhunter and a number of other innocent people. She had even gone as far back as Freddy Jackson's daring abduction in front of the Solomon Wayne Courthouse. Unfortunately, all she had been able to deduce was that Lock-Up had gone west.
While that was more than what they had with Manhunter's kidnapping, it wasn't much.
Because of this, the Birds of Prey were patrolling that side of the city, waiting for a sighting of Lock-Up's truck. The rationale was that he had been sighted in that area when leaving with a victim, chances were he would return from that direction. It wasn't much, but they didn't have much to work with.
Barbara had been getting ready for another night of scanning old traffic footage when the beeping started. While she normally received such alarms, she had given them all specific sounds. Deep, loud ones were city-wide emergencies; sharp, short ones were crimes-in-progress; sharp, rapid ones were communications; so on and so on.
This one was a dull, long beep. For a moment, she didn't recognize it until she remembered that was the alert she set up for the tracers on Manhunter. In an instant, she struck a key on her keyboard and a map of Gotham City appeared. Immediately, the map began shifting to the right, focusing towards the west side of the city.
The computer was homing in on the tracer's frequency. It was like a homing signal that had just gone online, which was the best way she could describe it. Watching, she noticed the grid of Gotham slid completely off-screen. This caused her to frown. Was the signal not even in the city?
Then it came to a stop, a single line gracing the screen, a red dot blinking over and over at one spot. Barbara zoomed out of the location until she was able to identify that the signal was indeed outside of the city, the city grid appearing on the right side of the screen eventually. Alright, now to identify what that location was.
The results for that came quickly. A small window appeared next to the red dot, listing a set of geographic locations. Doing a quick search on that location, she got a more specific description.
Hitting a button, she called out into her comm link, "Birds, I got a hit on Manhunter. Head west out of the city, Highway 18, near Sommerset."
"On our way," Black Canary immediately responded, the sound of a motorcycle revving in the background. "What are we looking for?"
Barbara glanced to the screen for a brief moment before answering, "From what I'm seeing, the old Gotham State Penitentiary."
Bruce sensed it even as his mind was muddled with sleep and fatigue. There was someone else in his cell.
He had finally reached that state where his eyelids had grown heavy and sleep was about to visit him. He kept his eyes closed, his hands behind his head. He didn't want to give away that he knew he had company.
It was a waiting game now. Either this presence would leave, or it would try to interact. Considering he was in a prison, it was most likely an attacker. Someone was trying to get at him where Bane couldn't protect him. It wasn't a bad choice of attack, honestly.
Bruce would just have to show the attacker just how mistaken they were.
"Wake up, Wayne."
The voice was low, clearly trying not to draw attention save for his. Bruce shifted, allowing a frown to form on his face. He couldn't let this guy think he was—
Something cold and sharp pressed against his throat. "Wake up, or learn a new way of smiling," the voice ordered.
"Ghuhhh? Bruce groaned as he fluttered his eyes open. There was a man next to his bed, darkness hiding much of his features save for the glint of moonlight against glasses. The man's arm was extended towards him, pressing what could only be a blade against his neck. "What's going on?"
The knife left his throat then. Bruce quickly glanced down and saw it wasn't a knife, but a shank in the man's hand. His eyes then darted to the cell door, finding it opened ajar. Considering the doors were automated, it was rather concerning that the door was opened like that. "It's time we talked a little, Wayne," the man's voice rumbled.
The figure backed up a step only to grab the chair at the desk. He calmly lifted it high enough so that its legs didn't drag on the floor and then set it next to the bed. He then sat down, crossing one leg over the other.
This put him in better light and Bruce immediately recognized him as the Lion. "What are you doing in my cell?" he couldn't help but ask.
"You wanted to talk earlier. I'm in the mood to talk," the Lion replied simply.
"In the middle of the night?"
"I prefer the night."
Bruce slowly pushed himself up until he was holding his upper body up with his hands, sitting up as best he could without causing a reaction from this dangerous man. "How did you get in?"
"I have my ways," the Lion shrugged. "Now, enough of your questions. I have one of my own. What possessed you to come talk with me today?"
It was Bruce's turn to shrug his shoulders. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."
The blond man raised an eyebrow. "A good idea," he repeated, then shook his head. "You have bigger balls than you have sense, Wayne. Anyone with a pair of eyes knew not to go there."
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, friend."
"Even if you gained an untimely death?"
"You're not going to kill me."
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, I am in my cell. It'd be pretty suspicious when the guards find my body here. They'll want to know how my killer got in and investigate."
"Guards and a dead body won't stop me," the Lion responded. "I can have your body disappear. They'll think you escaped somehow and search the entire prison, eventually coming to the conclusion you managed to get out. A statewide manhunt will ensue, no one the wiser that your body was tossed into the trash compactor and crushed into jelly."
"That wouldn't work," Bruce pointed out.
"What makes you say that?"
"No one thinks I'm smart enough to escape a prison."
The Lion stared at him. "Touche. No matter, there are other ways. A prison riot can hide a surprise stabbing, even with that behemoth you have protecting you."
"What is this about?" the dark-haired man questioned. "Why did you come in here and tell me this?"
"To prove a point, Wayne. If you think you are safe with your bodyguard, then you are sorely mistaken. I can get you anywhere, anytime. I own this prison and nothing happens without my knowing. Do what you did in the yard again, and I promise you won't live long to regret it."
Bruce stared at him. "All of this is some powerplay to discourage me from talking to you?" He shook his head. "You do realize there are more civilized ways of getting your point across?"
"Perhaps, but this is the most effective. Do we have an understanding?"
"Depends. Can I ask you my question from earlier?"
"The answer remains the same, Wayne."
"Pity." The younger man rolled his head from one side to the other, a vertebrae popping at one point. "I guess I'll always have to wonder why the Lion is hiding in Blackgate."
There was a slight tilt of the man's head, nearly imperceptible unless someone was looking. The glint of moonlight on the Lion's glasses grew brighter. "Hiding," he repeated.
Bruce leaned back until he was resting on his mattress, hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. "I was young, four, perhaps five. I was stuck in this clinic, bored out of mind, when these men came rushing in. They demanded the clinic's doctor take care of a really important man. He had been shot, you see, and was in bad shape. It was widely reported this man didn't survive.
"Except, he did. That doctor saved that man's life and he went into hiding. That doctor was my father, and that important man was you, Calabrese." Bruce rolled his head to one side to better look at the Lion. "It's been years, I know, but I recognized you the moment I saw you."
There was silence. Then, "You know who I am and you still approached me."
"Again, nothing ventured, nothing gained."
More silence. "Have you told anyone else?"
"I am aware of how inmates see snitches," Bruce replied. "And I am also aware you silence those you find a threat to you. Unless you strike me down now, I'll be giving my bodyguard very explicit instructions, ones that point him in your direction should anything happen to me. I know you don't have much respect for the younger generation of criminals, but you should be very wary of Bane. He almost took over the entire city once."
"And I did rule over the city," the Lion pointed out.
"Until you didn't. Instead you ended up in Blackgate without anyone in the world knowing you were even alive. Now you're what, the top dog here? Quite a step down for you."
The Lion stared at him. "You're not quite as dumb as I thought you were, Wayne."
"I do run a billion dollar company after all. Now, if you would see yourself out, I'd like to get some sleep."
Batgirl whipped around, finding Orphan standing in the doorway into the room. The mask that covered his mouth hid a smirk, she just knew it. She could see it in his eyes as they glimmered with mirth.
Then he promptly held a hand up, a gesture for her to stop. "Wait!" he called out. "I just want to talk."
"And I want to run my katana through your ribs," Damian growled as he shot his hand up to the hilt of his sword.
"I wasn't referring to you, Demon Child," the white-clad assassin replied. "I want to talk to the Bat-girl."
"I'm inclined to agree with the little one," Batgirl responded, which earned her a glare from Damian. He clearly didn't care for being called little. She pulled out a batarang, holding in front of her like one would hold a knife. "You won't be getting away this time."
"Then you'll be missing out on a chance to learn what I know," Orphan countered. "Your mentor wouldn't pass up on that opportunity."
That gave the dark-clad girl pause. Her first instinct was to snarl; how dare this man invoke her father?! However, she knew he was right, as much as she was reluctant to admit it. From the corner of her eye, she could see Damian had come to the same realization, a sour look on his face.
"So you want to talk," she finally said after a few moments. She didn't lower her batarang, ready to use it at a moment's notice. "Fine, then let's talk. You were the one seen entering Wayne Enterprises, were you not?"
Orphan slowly nodded, his eyes beaming with pride. "I'm assuming you mean the security footage the police collected, that you've no doubt seen. In answer, yes, that was me."
"With Vesper Fairchild," she pressed.
"With Vesper Fairchild."
"Which means you are the one that killed her."
Orphan stared at her, the knowing glint in his eyes never vanishing. "She begged, you know. She begged not to die. It was music to my ears."
Batgirl knew the reporter had begged; she had heard the recording made on her phone. The police had made the assumption that the murderer hadn't realized it was on, but looking at Orphan, she was beginning to feel as if that was intended. "I know she begged."
"Then you heard the recording."
That confirmed her suspicion. "Why Bruce Wayne?" she then questioned. "Why frame him?"
Orphan shrugged his shoulders. "Wayne was incidental. I needed to get your attention somehow, so why not your place of work?"
A cold sensation ran down her spine. Those words…was…was it possible that her father's imprisonment was just a byproduct of this sordid affair? That he wasn't the true target of this scandal?
This whole time, she thought someone wanted to hurt either her father or Batman. It was why Fairchild had been chosen due to her recent proximity to him. But now, if Orphan was to be believed, then her murder and staging of said murder was only because of her presence.
But why? She had been in the mailroom, not the CEO office. It made more sense for the murder to be held down there rather than the top floor. She had just made the transfer to being Lucius Fox's assistant that very day…
Her eyes widened. It was because it was her first day as Lucius Fox's assistant that Fairchild was killed in the CEO office. It guaranteed that she would be there to watch this whole thing play out. "Why are you doing this?" she growled then, letting her anger leak into her voice.
"You haven't guessed yet?" the man said mockingly. "But all of the clues are right there, you just need to put them in place. However, if you need to hear a reason, then it is because you are hiding behind a fraud, denying what you truly are." Orphan held his arms out, gesturing to the room around him. "You were raised to become the best of us; you have tossed aside such lofty ambitions to play a pawn."
"A glorified killer is hardly an accomplishment," she fired back. So this was the Court's doing, all of it. They hated the idea that their latest attempt at making the best Talon had instead sided with their enemy. "Where is the Court of Owls hiding now? Or should I say, what's left of it?"
Orphan raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said they were hiding?"
"That's all they've ever done. They hid in the shadows, mocking Gotham as it struggled with the disease of organized crime. It worked for them, I'll give you, but the moment they revealed themselves, they opened themselves up for the Batman to find them and drag them back into the darkness, kicking and screaming, justice at last being served." Batgirl then held out a hand to Damian. "His own grandfather saw an end to their last resurgence, in this very house no less."
Orphan straightened his posture, as if he were standing at attention. Or rather, he was trying to restrain himself from lashing out at her. "Is that the story he fed you?" he finally said, his tone low, growling with repressed anger.
"That's what I saw. The last memory of your masters will be of buffoons with inflated egos hunted down by a true creature of the night. They now rot away in jails and prisons, stripped of their power and influence."
"Or rotting in a shallow grave," Damian added. "If you wish, I can show you where. My grandfather didn't think a marked grave was worthy of shadowy pretenders."
"Now, you have two options: either surrender yourself, or prepare to be beaten into submission. Either way, you're coming with us," Batgirl told the white-clad man.
Orphan stared at her before he bowed his head, shaking it from side to side. "I think not. You may have been raised to be the ultimate Talon, but I have surpassed—"
Suddenly, Damian darted forward, sword in hand as he raced towards Orphan. Batgirl had to stamp down on the instinct to call out after the boy, to order him not to kill Orphan.
She understood the timing of the attack. With Orphan's eyes off of them, it was the perfect opportunity to attack. However, Orphan raised his head up in time to see Damian practically in front of him, swinging his sword at him. Eyes widening, he jerked backwards, avoiding the downward diagonal slash.
There was a dull thunk as the edge of the blade hit the doorframe, digging into the wood. Damian tried to jerk the sword out, but found it was too embedded to be cleanly removed.
Orphan took advantage of this as he reared back on one foot, raising up his other leg. He then kicked out with that foot, landing a kick to Damian's chest. The boy was launched backwards through the air, flying across the room until his back hit a door. The force he hit it caused the wood to splinter and break, Damian bursting through it and disappearing out of sight.
In an instant, Batgirl threw her batarang, watching it whirl through the air as it closed in on Orphan. Again, he spotted the attack at the last second and jerked his head back. However, unlike Damian's missed sword strike, her batarang made contact with its target somewhat. The projectile hit one of the tubes on the side of his face, one that emerged from his hood and connected to his face mask.
The tube disconnected, a hissing sound being made as compressed air was released. A green gas flowed out from the tube, which Orphan grasped out, his eyes wide with astonishment. Quickly, he shot a hand out of sight before he brought it back out, throwing an object down at his feet.
Instantly a white cloud of smoke erupted around him. Oh, hell no was she going to let him escape again. Batgirl raced towards the smoke, only to skid to a stop. As she closed in on the smoke cloud, she barely caught sight of the door closed, the cloud having hidden it being closed. She would have run right into it, no doubt the man's intention. Grabbing the doorknob, she gave it a turn, only to discover it was locked.
Seriously? He locked her into a room?
Completely done with this entire thing, Batgirl reared back on one leg as she drew up her other one. She then lashed out with a kick, one that shattered the doorframe where the frozen lockjam was and cracked the wood where her kick landed. The door swung open, revealing more of the smoke cloud. Undeterred, she rushed through the smoke, eventually entering the hallway. Unfortunately, the smoke cloud was too thick for her to see which way Orphan had run.
Damn it.
Backing out of the smoke, she returned into the room, hearing a groan come from behind her. Turning around, she saw the broken closet door that Damain had crashed through. With a sigh, she walked over to the open doorway.
When she reached it, she peered through the opening and saw Damian lying on the floor. There were a few canisters with him, a couple of which were turned on their side, probably knocked over when the boy fell on them.
"You okay?" she called out to him.
"I'm fine," Damian grunted. "Did he get away?"
"Unfortunately."
"Then what are you doing? Go after him!"
Batgirl stepped to one side and gestured to the thick smoke cloud still present in the doorway. "Tell me which way he ran and I'll gladly do it."
The boy glared at the smoke. "That wouldn't stop Father."
"He also wouldn't attack a man with a sword. So what's your point?"
Damian didn't have one, so he just glared up at her. Batgirl ignored it as she sighed. She couldn't help but feel that they had lost their best chance at capturing Orphan—for now. It was clear he had a grudge against her, so there would be another opportunity.
She just wished that it was over now.
I know the plausibility of Manhunter unlocking a prison cell door with a belt is bordering impossible, but I ask for a small suspension of disbelief there. I had to get her out of that cell somehow and that was the best I had going for me lol.
