Rise and Fall
Pushed back, back slamming into the side of a cargo container, Batman jerked to a side as the Promethium sword stabbed right where he stood. A pull had the blade's edge cutting through the container and the resistance from the metal wall allowed an effective block of the sword without causing damage to his armor.
Pulling back, Deathstroke attempted another slash and ended up cutting through more of this particular container. This time, some of the contents spewed out, Batman backing away to allow the killer to handle the mess.
The assassin gave chase, the vigilante descending down the mess of containers that were in a state of being unloaded. Though he had the lower ground this time, his pursuer did not take advantage of his higher vantage. Batman's descent had him slipping between two containers, the space between narrow but wide enough for some maneuverability.
Here, he would make a stand here. That had been the plan, but the sudden lack of space was used against him as Deathstroke attempted to land on top of him sword first. Narrowly, he avoided the blade as it impaled the container beneath them. His counter was to throw a punch, one that landed against the assassin's cheek and whipped his head to a side.
Deathstroke recovered but not fast enough to dodge the second hit. The killer caught the next one, shoved the gloved fist to a side, then swung a countering punch that landed against the vigilante's ribs. Down came an elbow against the assassin's arm, an answering twist of the killer's arm knocked the vigilante's arm to a side and rapidly thrown punches struck against the armored chest.
Batman took it then returned the assault by forcing his arms close, shoving them forward, then thrusting them out to force aside the masked killer's arms. An arm swung, missed the assassin, but the reversal had a backhand landing. The follow-up punch, though, was not as successful as it was caught then twisted to the left.
Another fist to the vigilante's jaw, another grunt left him, and then the Dark Knight raised a leg up and lashed out, striking a kick into Deathstroke's torso. Sliding back from the hit, an orange-gloved hand snagged the sword handle and pulled out from where it had remained during the back and forth. An attempt to slash with it only had the blade running and cutting into the side of the cargo container to the killer's right.
Jumping, Batman planted a foot against the sword, pinning it against the cargo container and as gravity pulled down on him, he cocked an arm back and swung it down, the attack blocked by a black-clad arm. Once more close quarters, he threw punch after punch, hitting or being blocked as he threw more and more.
A shove back, the sword pulled free once more only to inadvertently run into the cargo container to the assassin's left. Batman seized advantage once more, another back and forth of blows and strikes that either landed or were deflected. More than once did the vigilante hit the metal walls on either side of them.
It continued like this, neither man willing to give in, each trying to inflict the most damage they could do in a short period of time. The narrow confines of where they fought limited any wide attacks or weapons that could use the space.
An attempted backhand did not work out well; what remained of his triangle blades caught and tore into the fabric of the assassin's mask, ripping and tearing but not removing it. You could make out skin, scratch marks that were starting to leak blood, and hints of an eyepatch.
This seemed to further enrage the killer who launched into a fury; punches rained from every direction, aimed for the head, torso, and sides. It was difficult trying to block any of them, and Batman had to settle forcovering his head, trusting his armor to hold up.
Hands gripped the vigilante's shoulder and then he was slammed into the side of a cargo container. Abruptly, he was pulled the other way and another slam against resistant metal occurred. A hit to the jaw followed and spittle escaped from his lips.
Picking up on movement, his vision blurry from the hits, Batman jerked his head to a side just as another punch swung at him. The gloved fist slammed not against flesh and bone but unyielding metal and due to the absence of certain protection, the fist was not cushioned. A swear, a strike from above, and the vigilante went down not onto his knees but his back. Legs pulled to his torso, then lashed out, booted feet ramming into a stomach.
Back onto his feet, Batman took stock of the situation. Then he crossed both arms in front of him to block the next several hits. Throwing both of his arms out, incidentally slicing with his remaining triangle blades, he bought himself some space as Deathstroke backed away.
Getting some air, the Dark Knight charged forward once more to try and end this.
Another bomb located. Another lid opened. Red Robin crouched in front of it and went to work defusing it, keeping in mind Cyborg's instructions while he did so.
Teamed with him was Wonder Girl who kept an eye out. She may be antsy right now, but keeping an eye out for a certain Terminator was necessary. While he had faith in Batman's determination to win, Deathstroke had proven to be persistent and unstoppable.
Keeping in mind that the worst had yet to occur, that any of these bombs could be detonated at a second's notice or that the Terminator slipped away to go after all of them, it made the whole thing feel all that more stressful.
The magnetic collar was removed and set aside. Now for the wires. Blue first, then yellow with black stripe, red, black, and done. A wire cutter was held in his hand as he began to single out the first wire.
"We're going to talk about it," Wonder Girl abruptly said.
The frown on Red Robin's face twitched. Blue wire was cut. Next, yellow with black stripe. "About what?"
"Where our last conversation ended. Don't think for a second I'm not annoyed that the next time I hear your voice, you're issuing a challenge for that maniac," Wonder Girl explained.
"Not my plan," Red Robin admitted, snipping the second wire. Red next. "I don't like being live bait as much as the next person."
"But you do that while taking all of the responsibility for why we're in this mess. I've had a lot of time to think." Uh oh. "I actually have some good retorts."
Red wire was snipped. "I look forward to the roasting. If we survive."
"You mean when we survive," the armored blonde corrected.
Very optimistic of her. Normally she was bringing everyone back down to earth. Black was cut and the bomb was shutting down. Good, one less device to explode. He was going to need to check in and see how many others that the rest had found and defused. Deathstroke had managed to sneak in eight of them that Mas y Menos had been able to find.
Red Robin began to open his mouth to speak.
"No ifs. We are," Wonder Girl interrupted, her back still to the masked teen. "I'll be damned if I let that asshole kill another one of us."
That asshole had—never mind. Pointing out the obvious wasn't going to help or change matters. If anything, this was Wonder Girl psyching herself up. If there was a future for you to fight for, you would fight all the harder for it.
Hopefully none of it would be necessary provided Batman was able to stop Deathstroke.
Standing up, he replied, "Agreed." The next move would be to check in with Cyborg, see how many bombs were active or if they had gotten them all. With the numbers they had and the ease of defusing the set up of these bombs, plus a new pair of speedsters, this matter should be close to dealt with or finished.
They were done with this one. Let's move on to the next.
It took the discharge of a concussion detonator to force the two opponents back out into the open. Batman had been aiming for behind the assassin, but Deathstroke had leapt upwards and so the trajectory of the device had changed too. Up it had been thrown, but the grenade had been deflected back down and the vigilante had to scramble out of there before he was hit with its effects.
His cowl was designed to resist the concussive force. Resist, not prevent. That close? The beginnings of a concussion would have begun and that was the last thing he needed. The force emitted from the detonation still got him, but his armor absorbed most of it. There was still a little disorientation, but that too was powered through when the assassin charged back in.
The Promethium metal clashed with that of the steel around them, Batman rolling over and over to avoid each and every strike. As he got back onto his feet, he brought both of his gauntleted lower arms together to catch the sword as it slashed down on him once more. Another triangle blade was damaged to the point it was set loose.
Still, enough of the strength behind it was killed off so that the blade wasn't penetrating the gauntlets. Deathstroke was pushing down but minus the momentum and speed, it was no different than using a blunt object.
The sword was wrenched back, raised up, but Batman swung a leg out and kicked Deathstroke's out from under him. The assassin landed on his back with an "oomph!" but recovered quickly enough to get back on his feet. Batman was putting distance between the two of them, jumping from cargo container to cargo container.
In his head, he was trying to figure out what to do with that sword. One long grudge match, and that weapon hadn't been neutralized yet. It needed to be. This was always going to be a battle of attrition and endurance, but he had had no idea how.
It was rare to be tested like this. All of his skills were being put to the fore. This wasn't some opponent with great strength who could take a hit; this was someone with the dexterity and finesse of a seasoned fighter. Shiva came to mind. Bane another. Croc had the strength but was a brawler more than a seasoned fighter.
These reflections needed to end; Deathstroke was giving chase and without armor weighing him down, he was catching up. However, Batman was reaching the edge of the ship itself and had a view of the Blüdhaven port. Without hesitating, he leapt off of the last cargo container that lined the ship's deck, gliding through the air without using his cape.
In midair, he allowed himself to spin around, watching as the killer was leaping after him. From his hand, he threw out a bat-shaped shuriken, taking advantage of the assassin's forward movement to shrink the amount of reaction time he would have. Unfortunately, it was too much time because Deathstroke easily deflected the shuriken, redirecting it away.
Resting on the port itself was a cargo container that had been unloaded. Attached to each of its corners were chains that then connected at a central point, the crane's hook. From there, a much longer cable extended out from the crane's telescopic boom. The hook rested on top of the container and it was next to it that the vigilante landed. He threw himself to his left, dodging out of the way of the assassin's landing.
What neither of them knew was that the deflected shuriken had continued on its new trajectory, one that had it smashing through the glass that lined the cab of the crane's controls. Inside, the throwing object ricocheted about until it struck the controls, in particular the lever that worked the crane itself.
The cable began to rise, the crane's hook carried up with it. The chains grew taut and then each man's footing on the container grew unstable. Slowly, the container began to rise, carrying both of them up in the air. Neither, however, abandoned it, regarding one another as the most immediate threat.
His legs had to keep shifting to maintain his balance. His heart was pounding in his chest even as he took in deep breaths. The Dark Knight's body tensed as he kept to defense, wanting his opponent to make the first move. For one, it would help him determine the stability of their new battleground, inform him of how best to fight here, and hopefully it might expose a flaw in the assassin's guard.
This was unsteady ground; the rules were different compared to a sturdy one.
No words, no banter, they were both beyond that. Deathstroke's attention was solely on him now. Catching flashes of white streaks below informed the vigilante that the Titans were still in the process of defusing the bombs. Any of those streaks would give Deathstroke the same information and that the killer hadn't acted on it was the confirmation Batman needed.
Realizing that the Dark Knight wasn't going to make the first move, Deathstroke went on the offense. The container beneath their feet shifted as the assassin pushed off on it and there was a noticeably slowness of the sword slash.
A duck for that first strike, then he blocked for the second, his armor able to bear the hit of the Promethium blade now that enough of its speed was missing. He pushed against the blade, but the experienced assassin was redirecting it quick enough. The vigilante made a third block, putting some force behind it. The edge of the weapon did cut into his gauntlet, but the gambit had paid off as it was deflected away.
Keen eyes noticed how the masked killer quickly readjusted his grip, and he pounced on it. A single step forward, a punch into the assassin's chest, his other arm swung upwards to hit the underside of the assassin's right arm. With his own right hand, Batman latched onto the raised arm and twisted it under, the sword swinging about. Now with his left, his fingers snaked around the sword's cross guard.
Almost lightning quick, Batman yanked his arms apart and in doing so broke Deathstroke's grip on the sword's hilt. For added measure, the vigilante's leg kicked up, his ankle hooking the sword and as the leg continued swinging, it threw the sword off and away from the container, falling down to the port below.
For all of his efforts, a palm strike to his throat was Batman's reward. Once more, his armor cushioned against the hit, but it was a sign that this fight was far from over.
All the while, they continued to ascend.
It started as one group, but slowly the rest began to cluster together. The surviving Titans were regrouping, all giving the same stories of bomb defusal. There had been no nasty surprises waiting for them. No henchmen or lackeys drafted by Deathstroke into serving as a source of conflict.
It was…anticlimactic, you could say. After the last few days, week or so for some, this was very welcome. If all of the bombs had been found and defused, that was one less threat to worry about. All that remained now was Deathstroke himself, and Batman was handling him.
"I want to say that's a wrap, but I'm still waiting for that other shoe to drop," Cyborg remarked. "Speedy Gonzaleses here haven't found any new ones. I think we got them all."
There was no cheer or celebration at that announcement. To be frank, all of them were bone tired. Mentally exhausted, weary beyond belief, and with some definite psychological scarring. There was still hope, though, hope that this would all be over soon.
Taking note of each team, Red Robin took stock of what they had at their disposal. Take out all the healing injuries, they still had some of them at near full strength. Once he would have included himself, but the smackdown from earlier still had his body sore. That left Wonder Girl, Bumblebee, Mas y Menos, and possibly Bunker, Pantha, and Ridge at their best. Starfire and Raven were close seconds. Cyborg, Kid Flash, Beast Boy, and Hotspot were going to need some real medical—and mechanical—assistance.
"Everyone made sure that the bombs were off, right?" Red Robin asked for confirmation, receiving a bunch of affirmations and nodding of heads in return. Then to the twin speedsters who neither had a brace on their legs, "No encontraste ninguna otra bomba, ¿verdad?"
Twin shakes of the head. "No, Senor Red Robin. No después de que ese tipo nos llevó a la primera bomba y descubrimos cómo eran. Esos son todos los que encontramos."
Red Robin frowned. Wait, someone had…? "¿Alguien te llevó a una de las bombas? ¿Y estás mencionando esto ahora?"
Bunker had a hand to his face. Pantha was staring the two speedsters down. Those who did not know Spanish had no idea what was going on but had noticed the body language from those who did.
"¡Él sonrió y nos saludó!" one of the twins exclaimed, waving his arms frantically.
"¡Dijo que era un favor! ¡Estuvo bien pedir ayuda!" the other twin added, shaking his head up and down like a bobblehead.
Red Robin frowned at that. If he understood that right… But why would someone else be here? Outside of the Titans, Batman, and himself, no one else would know about the battleplan for staging a fight between Batman and Deathstroke—except…
The teen vigilante made an inquiry of Mas y Menos, rattling off a description. When he got confirmation, he nearly groaned but held his composure. Of course, Nightwing was nearby and also keeping an eye on things. His old partner in vigilante crime fighting knew when to keep quiet, and it seemed that he was keen on letting them handle this with a helping hand here and there.
To Bunker and Pantha, he gave assurance that Nightwing was a friend and there was no need to worry.
"Then what do we do now?" Pantha asked, arms crossed.
A good question. The immediate threat of the bombs was over. The immediate threat of Deathstroke wasn't. One way or another, the assassin needed to be brought down tonight. They couldn't keep running and hiding, their next breath their last. That was not living, no way, no how.
"We find where Batman and Deathstroke ended up," Red Robin stated. "We don't interfere, not yet. Form a perimeter, keep out of sight, and let those two have at it. We've had Deathstroke on the ropes at least once, and there's no doubt he'll be that way again should Batman fail. If that happens, strike hard, fast, knock that bastard out. Even exhausted, that man is still fast and will react just as quickly. None of us can go home until we've beaten him.
"Outside of swimming, the only other way out of here will be through the port's entrance. Cyborg, Kid Flash, Beast Boy, Hotspot, I want you lot there. If you have any tricks left, use them there. The rest, find a position that's closer to the action. Raven, you might want to find something you can throw. Let's do a circle, get ourselves placed around evenly, not too close, we're not going to let him get a two for one. Mas y Menos, find where they are and get back here as quick as you can."
"You might want to hold off on that." It took a few seconds for Red Robin to figure out that it was Ridge who spoke. He wasn't used to hearing that Titan speak and so it took a little—too much—time to process that. Then he noted how the monstrous-looking Titan had his head craned back a little, looking up and away from the group.
Following that line of sight, the Titans' leader spotted the rising cargo container and the two men fighting on top of it.
"Okay, that's a bit cool," Cyborg remarked.
"Everyone, try to follow the plan," Red Robin said, and he felt it was unnecessary to say that.
They knew where their bad guy was, one of the world's greatest heroes was dealing with him, and any thoughts of sticking with a plan might as well be thrown out the window. Hopefully they would spread out at the very least.
The container continued to rise, but neither combatant was willing to give up. Despite the unsteadiness of the surface they stood on, both masked men continued to exchange hits with one another. Blows that did not land were blocked or parried. Attempts to get an advantage remained just that, attempts.
Batman was unwilling to budge. Too much was at stake. It didn't stop him from feeling frustrated when his strikes were caught or knocked to a side. It kept proving aggravating as he too knocked aside swift jabs and blows. He tried to grab lashing limbs, but said limbs would twist out of his grasp just as quickly.
Deathstroke was going for vital spots, even if his armor cushioned against such tactics. He could not count how many times he had to protect his own throat. Using what remained of his triangle blades was a moot point; there were barely enough to actually have any repercussions from hitting that part of his arm.
When the assassin was able to capture one of the vigilante's arms and hyperextend it, swift jabs into the side had grunts escaping from the Dark Knight. Any attempt to counter was stopped and another jab added. Eventually, Batman wedged his leg between the two of them and pushed off. The container wobbled beneath them.
Hands going to his belt, two shuriken were removed but not thrown. No, he gripped the throwing projectiles in his hands, intending to use them as blades. Deathstroke stilled only for an instant, but he hesitated no longer and rushed the vigilante.
There was more caution to the killer's moves as Batman lashed out, slicing with his shuriken. The sharp edges of the shuriken hissed through the air with each miss, the defensive nature of Deathstroke's moves keeping the Dark Knight from hitting his mark. Orange gloved hands began to push back, moving any slice off their trajectory, then shoving harder with newer and newer confidence.
Their movements picked up speed and Deathstroke was not only deflecting and parrying, he began to go on the offensive again. They weren't particularly hard hits, the vigilante's armor protecting him, but the longer this went, the more force each blow began to possess.
It was becoming clear that black-clad man wasn't about to hit the assassin, and in response, a fist grazed the front of the vigilante's masked face by the thinnest of margins. The second swing clipped one of the small horns on his helmet, but as the third punch swung in, Batman dropped into a crouch while stabbing downwards with a shuriken.
This time he hit his mark, specifically Deathstroke's left foot. The bat-shaped shuriken impaled the limb and pinned it down to the cargo container. The assassin cried out in surprise and pain, then retaliated with a swift kick of his right leg, causing Batman to fall back on his back. As the killer began to crouch down to pull the shuriken out of his foot, the cowled vigilante was already retaliating.
Bringing his knees to his torso, Batman kicked out with both of his legs, his feet striking Deathstroke in his chest and causing the assassin to fall back, his right hand planting itself on the flat surface they were fighting on. His feet coming down against metal, Batman lunged forward and stabbed down with his other shuriken, pinning the assassin's right hand much like the left foot.
For his effort, he received a backhand which he rolled with, his back meeting with the top of the cargo container, then his neck and head, and after that his booted feet. Quickly he stood to his full height while he slipped out one more shuriken.
Meanwhile, Deathstroke grabbed at the shuriken pinning his right hand down and yanked it out. Holding it in his left, the one-eyed assassin faced the vigilante, ready to throw the projectile. At that moment, Batman threw the third shuriken upwards where it struck the crane hook above them and lodged itself in it.
For a second, nothing happened. The crane continued to retract the cable, the container continued to rise, and in that instant, Deathstroke's single eye flicked to the bat-shaped shuriken that hadn't been thrown at him then returned his attention to the Dark Knight.
The recently thrown shuriken began to flash a small red dot in the heart of its body.
The explosion was small, it always was. Meant to distract and sometimes to cause concussions from its explosive force, this time it blew apart the crane hook.
Abruptly the rise of the container stopped and it began to plummet back down to the port below. Batman threw out his cape as he began to jump, letting the air around him slow his descent while he prepared to activate that electric current that would put his cape into glider mode. Deathstroke threw the shuriken in his left hand and the vigilante brought his cape back to his body, letting the resumed fall carry him out of the throwing projectile's path.
Electric current ran through the fabric and soon enough, Gotham's most famous vigilante began to glide.
Deathstroke made to jump himself, but his left leg pulled him back. Eye widening, his attention zeroed in on the shuriken that still pinned his foot down. Time was running out, and in a desperate bid, the assassin reached down and tore the shuriken out of his booted foot.
The cargo container slammed down onto the concrete of the port. Deathstroke's body continued with the momentum still there and slammed onto the top of the container, bouncing off of it to fall to the ground below. The violent collision of metal against concrete was enough to cause the container to lose its structural integrity, its side bulging out then breaking out. The contents of the container began to spill out as the rest of it crumbled in on itself.
The booming sound echoed throughout the port, the approaching Titans came to a quick stop in front of it. Many wide eyes stared at the sight, so many youthful bodies having their guard down out of shock.
Black boots came down on the ground with a crunch. A cape fell about a tall, armored body, and Batman stood over the sight of his fallen adversary.
Pinned under the compromised cargo container side, Deathstroke's head and right shoulder peeked out from under it. The weight of the container's contents was enough to press down and ensure that the killer wouldn't be slipping out. Despite the injuries he must have sustained, Deathstroke still tried to squeeze his way out, stopping only as Batman came to a stop next to him.
The dual-colored masked head slowly turned until the man's single eyes glared at the Dark Knight who stood over him. Through gritted teeth, "You'll have to kill me. I won't stop until they're all dead. So kill me if you want to save them."
White eyes narrowed. "No. No one else dies."
A snort. "To prison? It won't hold me for long."
A shake of a cowled head. "And I'll be watching. The second you leave, I will track you down. Before you can find one more Titan, I'll be there to take you down. If you want to kill them, you'll have to get through me first."
A heartbeat of silence. "That can be arranged."
No longer willing to humor the assassin any longer, Batman raised up his foot and stomped it on the masked killer's head. "Good night."
Just like that, it was over. Exhaustion and fatigue washed over and through the vigilante's body. Yet, he did not show any of it, allowing his cape to hide his body while he turned his gaze onto the group of teenagers. He regarded them quietly, and for once none of them spoke. The silence that took hold over the port was thick.
Finally, "Go home. I'll notify the League. Get some rest."
Multiple eyes blinked, then looked to one another. There was uncertainty, definite cautiousness, which was understandable. These last few days had taken so much from them that the thought that it was over had some difficulty being processed.
The first to recover was Red Robin. "He has this taken care of. Let's go." To match actions to words, the young man turned his back on the scene and took the first steps to leave. Slowly, with some hesitation, the rest began to follow, and Batman returned his gaze to the captured assassin.
While the immediate threat was over, there was still much to do. For example, what to do with Deathstroke? Because this had become a League matter, what would the League choose to do? That A.R.G.U.S. had become involved at one point could mean that the government agency would want to add its two cents.
Those would be matters for the morning, and the Titans would not need to worry about it. They had earned their rest.
The soreness in his body begged for the same.
The sword rested on the ground where it had landed. The metal that made up the blade had not a single scratch or blemish on it. It had weathered the fall without a single imperfection. For the time being, it laid forgotten and waited to be collected.
It would be collected, but not by any superpowered teenager or a vigilante from Gotham. A hand clad in a brown glove reached down, fingers wrapping around the sword's handle, and picked it up. Carefully, the discarded weapon was raised off the ground until it was held, a green eye examining it critically.
Clad in a brown trenchcoat with a head wrapped in bandages, the man known to the world as Hush weighed his prize and accepted it. For a moment, he paused, his eye glancing to the scene far away.
An assembled group of teenagers were leaving. Batman stood over his fallen enemy, body cloaked with his cape. The man had to be exhausted after that fight, which meant he would not be as sharp as he normally was. No, his attention would be on the trapped assassin and transporting him to a new location, a holding cell of some kind unless medical care was needed.
The second one. After that fall, Deathstroke would need to be examined. Otherwise, it would be negligent, and Batman wouldn't tolerate such a death like that. He was the cause of those injuries, after all, so he would be responsible.
Still, he was right there, not at one hundred percent. He could…
No.
No, that would be pressing his luck. It wasn't part of the plan either. He needed to be alive for now. So, go on, Bruce, continue living. Continue your never ending fight. There was only one way it could end. In the meanwhile, he would take off with his prize and continue fulfilling his tasks. This sword was just one step closer to fulfilling his obligations.
How many was that now? Two of the five? Yes, three more left to collect.
Without drawing any attention to himself, Hush backed away into the shadows, taking Deathstroke's sword with him.
Author's Note: Second to last chapter, folks. We're almost done. One more chapter to wrap things up. It's been one heck of a journey, hasn't it? Let me know your thoughts about everything, as well as any theories as to what comes next. The speculation always gets the creative juices flowing.