PART 1 - INTERMISSION 1
At the Batcave.
"'Tim Drake sat in front of the bat-computer, pondering. Not lost in thoughts, nor daydreaming, or even reminiscing. Just… pondering. Even musing could be applicable to the world's youngest candidate to hermitism'."
"Steph, what are you doing?", came the teenager
"No, no, better: 'The wild Red Robin is often found making a nest at large computers, only coming out to strike justice unto criminals and in search of caffeine'."
"And you brought Duke into it as well, sure, why not?."
He could hear his former girlfriend nearing the Bat-Computer, not even needing to turn around to know she was putting her hands on her hips in frustration.
"Timothy Tiberius Drake."
"That is not remotely close to my middle name."
"You have been working on this case for almost four days now.", Stephanie told him, trying to force his chair to spin, while the hero held onto the keyboard. "Give it a rest to the old thinker, you're smart enough to know that."
"I can't, not when there must be some… some clue that I'm not seeing! Three failed bombing attempts, three! Were they true? Fake? A clue? A distraction? This is a pattern, but for what? I know there is something missing, but what-"
"Mrs. Hayne's Algebra test".
Both young adults looked back at their Junior.
"Might untangle that one for us, dude?", asked the blonde, in confusion.
"I had this Algebra teacher, Mrs. Haynes. She gave us a test, and many people got the results wrong. I almost did."
"And why is that?"
"Her test had all ten questions being option 'c'. Almost everyone started out okay, then picked the wrong answer after the third or fourth option. I asked her why."
"She told me that students got lost in the pattern of repetition, started thinking that maybe they were getting things wrong, so they would come back and rethink and redo their math, getting new results because of that, even when they got everything right in the first time."
"'Sometimes', she told us, 'people just start complicating things for themselves over a stupid reason. Maybe because of coincidence, maybe because things are not hard to understand so they try to find hidden meanings where there are none'."
"The students were sabotaging themselves", concluded Tim Drake.
Stephanie rested a hand on Drake's shoulder. "Everyone can sabotage themselves, Timmy, be on a test, or on a relationship, or maybe on an investigation."
The trio of former Robins grew quiet, as Timothy Drake examined the computer one more time, then pressed a button and made a back-up of his findings.
"You know, I could go out for a drink."
Duke patted his senior's shoulder. "Perfect! As long as it's not an iced coffee-"
"It's perfect weather for an iced coffee!"
"Anything to you is an excuse to get a coffee, Tim.", replied his former girlfriend. "Maybe we should finally organize that intervention for you."
At the Chrysalis.
Peter Parker pulled the articulated magnifying glass between himself and the piece of circuitry in front of him.
Normally, he could have set for the automated soldering system to do it for him, but that had been dismantled for parts an hour before. No big loss, he could always ask for a new one, but inspiration had struck him.
'I have to do better'
The invasion had been a wake-up call. The Disruptor and Overthrow. Spider-Man had faced men like Shocker, Mysterio and Blindside, dangerous bad guys with highly advanced gimmicky tech that could really pack a punch, so he had no reason to become complacent.
'I have to be smarter'
The Blue Beetle and Lionmane, they could have died in the basement, two nights before. He had managed to tough it up, but if he couldn't, who could say Blue Beetle and the bad guy the hero was protecting could have made it?
'I have to be prepared'
His recently improved suit, or what had been left of it, laid exposed on a projection table, hooked to a diagnosis tablet. Peter had replaced the fabric before, but this level of damage demanded a completely new suit.
'I have to anticipate the danger'
The mask was hanging on the wall, the circuitry connected to a large flat monitor on its side, a progress bar showing the transfer of the G.O.O.B.E.R. and several other vital applications from the damaged tech to Peter's newest and heavily protected private computer.
'I have to outsmart the threats'
The new parts that he had ordered to start building improved versions of the AVM (Acoustic Vibration Manipulator) were set on the side, as he already had other plans for them.
But that would come later, as, at the moment, the heroic scientist was rebuilding his web shooters from the ground up.
'Sorry about this, Ben, but I'm going to borrow some of your ideas', Peter thought to himself about his long deceased clone/brother, Ben Reilly, the Scarlet Spider. 'After all, just webs and spider-tracers won't cut it. If I want to keep helping people on this Earth, I need to improve. New tricks for a new world.'
Focused on the magnifying glass, Peter kept soldering on.
"..."
*grumbling noise*
"..."
Until Peter's stomach started growling.
'Maybe a quick pause, THEN go back to improving!'
Chrysalis - The Atrium
Peter Parker was weighing his current decision with much care.
In front of him, the source of his distress, silent and ominous, daring him to make the first move.
'So, I can either get the large Peanut L&L's bag', he stared at option A3, 'or a bag of mini-Chocos cookies', then at option D5. 'Nutty crunchiness or bursts of chocolate and vanilla? This… is just cruel.'
"Ya ne veryu!"
"Me neither!"
"There goes my last chip, I'm out!"
Peter turned to the side, spotting a group of his fellow colleagues in what appeared to be a card game.
The pre-teen genius, Metron Jackson, youngest member working at the Chrysalis at thirteen, was dragging the pot away, having the largest number of chips by far.
Ariana Dzerchenko, the young russian writer of YA-apocalyptic novels/freedom rights activist/social-media celebrity/futurist visionary, plus student of three different majors at Gotham U, still had a good amount on her side, but her face made it clear that the afternoon had not been good so far.
Sajani Jaffrey, now sporting a purple hat and no longer wearing her Kick-Lanterns, as she had dubbed them, was faring a little better than Ariana, but not by much.
Jurgen Muntz, astrophysicist and space engineer, the eldest member of Ted Kord's brightest minds, had been the first one to leave the table.
"Come on, J!", said the boy, who was a third of the age of his senior. "It's just Texas hold'em, it's not rocket science!"
"Of course 'it's not rocket science', I am a literal rocket scientist.", Jurgen shot back, in frustration. "Hey, look who decided to leave his lab for a change! Parker!"
The most recent addition to Kord Industries approached with care. "Hey, everyone."
There was a round of salutes, and soon, as he feared, the offer.
"Would you like to join us, P?", said the pre-teen, his dark skinned hand offering the vacant place, almost innocently.
There were just the barely hidden smirks between the three at the table, and Peter had the distinct feeling that there might be some scheme going on between the younger members of the Chrysalis to try and fleece their elders.
Parker's first intention had been to spare them, but now?
'Oh, the sweet Summer children…'
"Sure, why not?", Peter replied, taking the vacant seat.
He laid a five dollar bill from his wallet at the table, and got several chips of colorful varieties in exchange.
"You got it, P, you don't mind me calling you P, right?", asked Metron, receiving his cards from Sajani. "Sometimes I think names are a waste of time, like Metron, you know? My parents gave me the name of one of those New Gods, because they wanted me to aspire to greatness. I'll be great on my own, thank you very much."
"So, that would make you M?", another nod, cards left on his front for last. "And you would be A, and you would be known as -"
"But, let's skip the formalities", came Ariana's voice, the slight hints of accent still present in her attempt to spare him from Sajani's wrath. "So, Peter, how is your poker game?"
"Well…", he replied, the slightest, barely noticeable spider-sense's tingle when he put his small blind on the table. "I hope I'm not in danger or anything..."
Diamond District.
Millennium Star Tower.
There was a knock at his door.
No one knocked at his door.
No one could possibly be knocking at his door.
Oswald 'The Penguin' Cobblepot was a short, stocky and balding man, the infamous heir of the disgraced Cobblepot Family, and a notably wealthy man of great power and influence, all of these obtained through his own efforts.
And nobody knocked on his door, because of the small fact that he had a small army of mercenaries guarding over him.
After all, one could not be the top contender to be the main crime boss in Gotham City without guaranteeing the safety of their own castle - or the second most expensive penthouse in Diamond District (just another reason to hate Bruce Wayne).
There was a knock at his door. Again.
Oswald's heavily secured forty-first, forty-second and forty-third floor 'nest' had been quite a find, practically a steal. The previous owner had at first been difficult, even reluctant, on selling it to him, but in the end, Cobblepot came out very satisfied.
So much so that he had sent the previous owner's widow a crate of vintage Cobblepot Vineyard Red as a gesture of thanks for being so reasonable, especially just after her late husband's untimely demise.
Another knock.
Oswald Cobblepot had a contingent of armed men protecting him at all times, enough to make a few dictators jealous.
His newest Nest had all the modern security equipment and defense measures one could only find at the White House, including automatic deployable turrets on the roof and Air-to-Surface-Missile proof shielding that would make the apartment the greatest bunker above the ground in the world.
Before, Cobblepot was happy to live in his personal paradise, the Iceberg Lounge, or his cargo-ship-turned-casino, the Final Offer. Those were his seats of power, where he could manage the growth of his empire.
But that had been before having to shake hands with his newest business partner.
The knock came again, Oswald Cobblepot already finished loading the last shell on his shotgun before approaching the door.
"I would strongly advise you on not trying anything untoward, Cobblepot.", came the exotic accent of the man he feared the most lately, just behind the door.
The Penguin almost dropped the firearm, before setting it on the nearest umbrella holder.
The large oak door opened, the dreaded man in question smiling dangerously at him.
At that very same moment, across the street.
The nearest tallest building was currently the observation spot for a heavily armored man, his mix of steampunk aesthetic, professionally crafted throwing knives and bird themed mask marked him as something that should only exist in the realm of nursery rhymes.
He had been tasked on trailing the newest risk to his masters.
His goggles looked ancient, but were equipped with the best military telescopic recording equipment. So, he registered all that he could see happening inside Cobblepot's hideout, a hundred yards away.
His mission was to see and not be seen, a predator in restraint by the true owners of this City.
The man he had followed was accompanied by his own pets, but they were nuisances, barely an impediment if he received the order to strike.
The intruder barely had any time to react, as a large curved blade cut through the air, precisely where his head had been not a second before.
"You are competent… but not nearly enough." The voice that came was cold, practically emotionless, which gave the Bird Masked Man pause.
'His tone is almost as death itself.', he thought. 'No arrogance, no hint of pride, just the certainty.'
The one who attacked him was dressed in a large black coat, a white and thick metallic skull mask exposed, a bulge inside the cloth hiding whatever he had used to slash at him.
"They say your 'kind' fears nothing. I am here to remind all of you and especially your 'owners' the important lesson …"
A large scythe-like blade, almost half as big as the man, slowly appeared from the inner folds of the man's cloak.
The Bird Masked Man did not give this amateur a chance to use such an impractical and dramatic weapon,
Already in motion, mid-jump over him, several of his small poisonous blades flew during the acrobatics and tore into the cloth.
He landed behind the large man, ready to mule-kick him, only to realize that there was now a large blade jutting out of his own chest.
If he could have seen behind himself, he would have realized that the other man was hiding a second scythe, just as large as the first one, which he used to skewer the Bird themed assassin.
"Fear… The Reaper!"
And with another quick draw, a Bird Masked head was separated from its body.
"We lost this generation's enforcer."
"He was new, young, full of himself. Not a big loss."
"We could bring Loong back. Or Carver."
"No, leave it to Cobb."
"The Elder? Good choice."
"He is to be our Protector."
"He is our blade. Our Talon."
To be Continued!
Author's Notes:
Hey everyone, sorry about the short chapter, I'm on a big international trip, so I only really had time NOW to check on my stories to post an update here and on ao3.
Hope You all like this and get ready, the bigger arc is coming next chapter!
