AN: I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and start of the new year! I know I got a bit delayed but family and work took up most of my time. I hope this surprise update makes up for it. The next update will be Batman x Ninja Gaiden: Path of Shadows.
CHAPTER 07: Tripartite
"You!? What are you-…?"
"Ssssssshhhhhhh…"
With her lips still curled, Ángel shushed the barmaid, though without a finger to her lips as both her hands were being used to pin down her victim's wrists.
"A chica like you can get killed if the boss finds out you've been snooping around." Ángel told her as she slightly dabbed her lips with her tongue.
"Killed by you!?" King asked while glaring at her.
The busty latina pointed her eyes up with a coy smile.
"Ma~ybe." she sang.
"If that's how it's gonna be then…" King growled before snapping at her. "You can tell your boss that I quit!"
In an uncharacteristic manner, Ángel's lively nature suddenly dropped with her expression morphing to weary annoyance.
"Nah, I don't feel like it. Actually, I don't even like talking to him."
This sudden change took King aback and she regarded the woman above her with suspicion.
"He didn't send you?"
"Nuh uh." Ángel shook her head.
"Then why did you attack me?"
Ángel blinked innocently.
"Nya~? What's wrong with a little tussle? Besides aren't you an experienced fighter? I knew you'd be able to handle yourself."
King looked utterly flabbergasted and couldn't believe that not only did the mercenary act on her volition but had some crazy reason for doing so. Her dumbfoundedness eventually gave way to her outrage and she wanted to give the woman a piece of her mind.
"What is wrong with you!?" she yelled.
She expected Ángel to be unperturbed and facetious as ever but strangely, she found the Mexican woman to have a pensive look on her face. And in another move that caught King off-guard and caused her cheeks to tinge, Ángel suddenly lowered her face down to her breasts.
Normally such a move would be in a sexual teasing way, like her usual M.O, but Ángel didn't seem to behave that way. She instead snuggled the side of her head to her chest like a child would to their mother.
As discombobulated as King's mind was, she was sure that Ángel was just messing with her like she usually did.
"Hey Kingy, dime la verdad: Am I really THAT bad?" Ángel suddenly asked her.
"What?" King blinked in confusion.
Ángel looked towards her from behind the valley of her breasts.
"I mean,…you probably hate me, right?"
King honestly didn't know how to respond. Hell, she didn't even know what to think or make of the woman nor know why she was behaving like this all of a sudden. Feeling like she was being put on the spot, she wondered if this was a situation where she needed to be careful about her answer.
"N-no…No…Ángel, I…don't hate you." she said awkwardly. "You're weird and annoying but…I don't think you're…that bad."
The mercenary chuckled as she raised herself off from King's torso.
"Sorry, but you really suck at lying." Ángel said with a wry tone in her voice.
A small part of King wanted to insist that she was telling the truth but on the other hand, she'd really wanted to focus on her own objective rather than deal with whatever issues the Mexican woman had.
"Look, forget all that. If you don't like Cobblepot either then you should know that he's up to no good. He's already hired someone to kidnap an innocent girl."
"Oh, I already know about that nya~."
Once again, King blinked in surprise.
"Wha…You do?"
Ángel nodded and released King's wrists to sit with a finger jabbed against the side of her head like was trying to recall something she memorized.
"Yeah. He told me to meet some guy named Deathspank or whatever at the Gotham Harbor tonight at 11. Said I needed to get the girl from him and then hand her over to some other guy at the same place in exchange for something important."
The blonde barmaid was left in stunned silence, not expecting the mercenary to just give her all that information just like that. As if to act smug, Ángel looked down at her with a knowing smile.
"That all you wanted to know?"
"Just one more thing…" King kept her voice calm before suddenly barking at her. "Why the hell are you still on top of me!?"
"Cause it's sexy." Ángel grinned teasingly.
"Get off!"
In a huff, King pushed the woman off her before getting up to march out of the room.
"Aww, but I thought we were having a 'girl moment'." Ángel called after her, still on the floor.
It was several anxious minutes later when King had returned to the bar counter where Bruce waited for her, still seated on his stool with his elbows on the counter. He noticed that her hair and shirt looked a little tousled and couldn't help but shoot her a concerned look.
"Are you alright? What happened?" he asked.
"11 o' clock. Gotham Harbor. That's where the exchange is going down."
King said it in such a hurried breath that Bruce had to pause to make sure he heard her correctly.
"You're sure?" Bruce whispered with slight doubt. "How did-?"
"Look, that's the info I got. Okay?" King huffed dismissively, hoping to avoid the subject of where she got the info from.
After all, she didn't even know if Ángel was being serious about what she said and besides that, she decided that she stuck her neck out enough for one day.
Bruce gave her a scrutinizing gaze but it was only for a moment before he relaxed his features.
"Alright. I believe you." he said with a nod.
And then King's cheeks tinged a little as she started to feel guilty, unable to remember the last time someone put this much faith in her. For Caroline's sake, the woman Bruce said was kidnapped, she hoped Ángel was telling the truth and that Batman would put a stop to them.
But on that train of thought, King decided to ask something.
"Hey, so you're friends with Batman. Right?"
"I wouldn't exactly call us 'friends'." Bruce scoffed with disdain.
"Well,…in any case, if you do contact him, could you put in a request from me?"
"What is it?" he asked.
She momentarily paused in apprehension before she resolved to just go for it.
"One of Cobblepot's people is going to be there. A…Mexican woman in a leather jacket. Could you tell him to go easy on her?"
The billionaire regarded her curiously.
"Friend of yours?"
"I wouldn't call us that either." she sardonically, echoing his own words.
Seeing his questioning gaze, she figured she might as well elaborate. Although, she herself didn't understand why she was even concerned about the busty Latina's well being and found it hard to put it into words.
"She's done some bad things but…I just kinda feel sorry for her."
Bruce continued to stare at her. He was curious about this Mexican woman that she mentioned but he decided not to press her any further.
"He doesn't usually listen to me but I'll be sure to get the message across." Bruce told her.
He then smiled in gratitude and laid a hand on hers.
"But thank you. I really appreciate what you've done."
In a move of uncharacteristic impulsiveness, one that he couldn't explain himself, Bruce suddenly leaned and kissed her on the cheek.
King nearly squeaked in surprise and her eyes enlarged while her face instantly flushed red. To say that the sensation she felt was akin to the moment when he held her hand would be false. This was on another level.
A distance away from the bar counter, Leona barely fought the urge to smash the table she sat at.
Realizing what he had done, Bruce quickly backed away with a guilty look.
"I…"
He struggled to get the words out as he himself didn't know what came over him.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." he apologized.
"N-no, that's alright." said King quickly as the blush still remained on her face.
Bruce lingered on the spot with the feeling that he should say something more but his couldn't get anything else past his lips and the more he remained on that spot, the more the air grew heavy around him.
"I should get going." he finally said and turned away, neither of them bothering to say goodbye.
As she watched him walk away towards where his bodyguard awaited him, King palmed the back of her neck as she felt her stomach knot with conflicting feelings. She told herself that she should set her sights on Ryo and only Ryo. And yet, try as she might, the image of the Kyokugenryo expert felt so far away.
She wasn't the only one who felt a swirl of confusing emotions: Leona had remained silent when Bruce had told her that he was done here, only giving a simple nod.
The fact was that both she and Bruce were more or less in the same state of mind: imposing themselves to focus on their respective missions and disregard anything else they felt.
The mission. Only the mission.
While the two made their way out of the nightclub area, one person monitored them from out of sight by the doors leading to the pool area.
Seriah sauntered off from the doorway and walked over to the pool with her arms crossed and a smile that was a mix of amusement and wry. Despite it all, she couldn't help but feel sympathy for her comrade.
"Oh Leona,…" she internally sighed. "I don't know what you have gotten yourself into but I hope everything works out for you."
A cross-shaped stone path lay behind Wayne Manor, leading from the veranda and sectioning off patches of lawn grass and hedges. At the center of the junction was the literal centerpiece of the backyard: an exquisitely designed 3-tier stone fountain.
Not only was it intricately sculpted with angel motifs but the basin was large enough to be a small pond, with water lilies floating on the surface while red koi fish swam at the bottom.
The fishes moved about lazily without a care in the world, not even when a shadow loomed over them.
And then in a flash, a crudely made wooden spear shot through the water and impaled the ill-fated fish before it had a chance to escape!
Being pulled up with the stick from the water, the skewered fish wiggled frantically unlike two of its already dead brethren that were impaled next to it. The spear was held up high by a certain boy who sat on his haunches and balanced himself on top of the basin's brim.
"Haha! Yosh'!" cheered Hokotumaru with a jump and a pumped fist.
As the young ninja reveled in victory over his latest catch, a fluttering sound drew his attention toward the branches of a nearby tree where a dove-sized bird had perched, turning its head around and grooming its wings.
Hokotumaru's eyes lit up in excitement and he steadied himself from making any sound. Ever so slowly, he put down the skewer on the ground next to the basin before taking out a bow and arrow which were also crudely made.
He notched the thin arrow and drew it back to the corner of his eye to aim, licking his lips in concentration. The bird still failed to notice him and he readied to release his shot. Just a little bit more…and then…
"Master Hokuto! What the devil are you doing!?"
The boy jumped with a start, his eyes bulged to the size of dinner plates, and he quickly looked to his side to see the Manor's butler hurrying over to him.
"Ah! Alfred-sama! Um,…"
Even in his startled state, he couldn't help but glance up towards the branch to find that, sure enough, the bird had flown off. He wanted to groan and sulk in frustration but the presence of the vivid elderly gentleman curtailed such feelings.
He was beginning to reconsider if an angry Shiranui-Onee-chan really was the scariest thing he'd ever seen.
"Su-sumimasen." he nervously bowed. "I was just hunting for my lunch, that's all."
"Hand those things over to me at once!" Alfred barked, holding out his hand. "There will be no hunting of any sort on Master Wayne's property! Do you understand!?"
Hokotumaru couldn't help but feel miffed and he narrowed his eyes before arguing back.
"But I always hunt for food in the mountains!"
Luckily, Alfred didn't respond with more anger and instead put his fists to his hips and spoke calmly yet firm.
"We're not in the mountains, Master Hokuto. And as long as you're here, you will behave like a proper civilized person. Besides, if it's food you want, you only need to call for me."
Feeling a twang of guilt, the young ninja boy knit his brows and glanced down miserably. Alfred's heart went out to him; it probably wasn't easy being confused and lost in this strange land.
Clasping his shoulder gently, Alfred began to lead him back to the Manor.
"Come along, lad. I'll fix something up for you in the kitchen." he told him softly.
Some time had passed since then and Hokotumaru idly occupied himself by swinging his legs and exploring every possible seating position on the stool by the kitchen counter.
Alfred found himself smirking as he worked on the hot pan. He remembered that Dick couldn't sit still either when he was Hokotumaru's age.
When he was done, he brought the pan over to where Hokotumaru was sitting and served its contents on his plate.
"There you are, young sir. It may not be hunted game but I assure you it's just as appetizing."
It was pancakes and bacon. Hokotumaru stared at the food drooling while Alfred added an extra touch by setting down a glass of pomegranate juice and then squeezing some maple syrup on to the cakes.
With bated anticipation and a growling stomach, the boy slowly reached out to take the delicious looking food, only for Alfred to lightly wrap him on the fingers with the handle-end of a fork, causing him to quickly retract his hand.
"Ah ah." tutted Alfred. "With a knife and fork."
The butler then set the utensils for the boy to use but when Hokotumaru looked at them hesitantly, Alfred figured that he probably didn't know where to start.
"Here, I'll show you how to use them." Alfred offered and guided him.
Now in the know, Hokotumaru pretty much gobbled the whole meal up with such speed that it even took Alfred aback.
"Gochisosama deshita." Hokotumaru said, joining his palms in respect.
"Ah, you must forgive me. I'm afraid my grasp of the Japanese language isn't quite as eloquent as Master Bruce's."
Looking to strike a conversation, Alfred took a seat opposite him.
"But I do know a few things. Your name for instance, Hokotumaru, it's a feudal naming convention is it not? Did Mister Bogard give it to you?"
"No. I was always Hokutomaru, as long as I remember."
Alfred felt he was approaching a sensitive topic for the boy and spoke with hesitation and concern.
"Then…your mother and father…?"
But it would seem that such worries wasn't necessary.
"Don't remember them." Hokotumaru smiled innocently. "But I had the mountains, I had the trees, I had the monkeys and then Sensei came along and we all became family."
However at that moment, his expression turned crestfallen.
"But, like you said, I'm not in the mountains anymore and Sensei is gone. I…I really am alone now." his head dipped morosely.
Alfred stood and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Nonsense. You're not alone, lad. Chin up, Master Bruce will surely bring whoever killed your sensei to justice."
Before Hokotumaru had the chance to express his gratitude, both he and Alfred noticed the faint approaching sound of an engine followed by the unlocking of the front door.
"Oh dear. Is that him and Miss Cross?" Alfred wondered. "I didn't expect them back so soon."
It was still imperative that Bruce's Bodyguard remained unaware of Hokotumaru's presence, given how paranoid the woman could be. Alfred walked over to the kitchen entrance and could hear footsteps approaching their way. He then quickly turned back to Hokotumaru and urged him away with a hushed tone.
"Quickly, hide. Hide! I'll distract Miss Cross so you can get back into the Cave."
Hokotumaru nodded, getting the message, and scurried off to the corner of the kitchen where he hid out of sight.
"Helloooo? Al? You in here?" came a voice from the kitchen's entrance.
"Why, Master Richard! This is a surprise."
Indeed, it was Dick Grayson who walked inside with a friendly smile.
"Well,…"
Dick helped himself to the glass of juice, unaware of who it was really for, and let a short 'Aah!' in delight after drinking it.
"Bruce contacted me earlier. Told me that the Penguin will be sending his people out to the Harbor tonight."
Rather than inform Dick about the other person present in the room, Alfred felt his attention drawn towards the more pressing development.
"Good heavens. Is it related to the Andy Bogard case?" he asked.
From his hiding place, Hokotumaru felt his interest piqued at mention of his sensei and strained his hearing to catch every word.
"It might be." Dick said. "Since the equipment I brought over from Blüdhaven is little worn, I thought I'd swing by over and borrow from Bruce's armory."
The former Boy Wonder frowned and his eyes darkened.
"Slade Wilson will be there tonight so I better bring my A-game."
Alfred nodded.
"Understood. Though I must say, young sir, you could have easily used the Cave's entrance."
"I know. It's, well…"
Dick smiled sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head and then looked around with a fond look.
"Sometimes this place makes me feel nostalgic and…" he turned towards Alfred. "I just wanted to say hi."
What else could an elderly British gentleman do but smile back and pat the former ward on his arm affectionately?
"Do take care, sir. And please watch over Master Bruce. He will never admit it but his overzealousness can get the best of him."
"I know. And I will."
And with that, Dick began to exit the kitchen and make his way towards the grandfather clock that would lead into the Batcave.
"Seeya, Al." he gave a two-fingered salute as he left.
It was only a moment later when Alfred suddenly remembered about his charge who was hidden from sight.
"Oh! Dear me, I forgot. You can come out now, Master Hokuto! There's no cause for alarm."
But when he checked Hokotumaru's hiding spot, he found that the boy was nowhere to be seen.
"Odd. Where has he gone off to now?"
Years Ago…
The sun was dipping low along the distant mountains, the skies painted with deep hues of purples and blues as the young girl stepped out onto the wooden porch of the dojo.
Her breath misted and she felt the chilly air prick against her skin. She would've shivered if not for the warmth in her hands, radiating from the bowl of steaming rice and fish.
Mai couldn't help but click her tongue in annoyance. She knew her grandfather asked her to tend to their new pupil but he was such a hassle to deal with.
He was like a stubborn kid; he barely acknowledged her, let alone listened to her and he treated her like SHE wasn't worth HIS time! What was even the point?
Honestly, she'd rather deal with that old pervert Yamada-sensei than that insufferable brat!
Okay, maybe not really.
On the subject of her unwilling charge, she spotted him at the center of the training yard, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of paper lanterns hanging from the eaves.
She did admit to herself that he did have a good…shape.
Bruce's brow furrowed in concentration as he moved through a complex series of strikes and blocks, all with mechanical precision until it came to the last move where he ran and slid like a baseball runner before attempting to launch his other leg up into an upward spin kick. But he ended up losing his momentum and tumbled instead.
It was certainly a funny sight and Mai had to stifle a giggle as he grunted with frustration before getting up and to his usual spot to reset his stance.
She took that as an opportunity to announce her presence.
"Oi~!" Mai called out, her voice carrying across the quiet yard. "Dinner's ready. Ojii-san says you need to eat."
As usual, he didn't even glance her way.
"I'm not hungry." he muttered, launching into another set of moves.
Mai rolled her eyes and marched towards him.
"Look, I don't care if you're hungry or not. Ojii-san says you eat, so you eat." She thrust the bowl towards him.
Bruce finally paused, turning to face her with a scowl.
"I said I'm not-"
~goro! goro!~
Much to his embarrassment, his stomach chose that moment to let out a loud growl.
Mai's cheeks puffed up as she tried in vain to hold back her laughter until she couldn't control it anymore and burst out laughing.
"Doesn't sound like it to me." she sang playfully.
The boy's scowl deepened and for a moment, she thought he was going to lose his temper and act like a jerk again. But, much to her surprise, he let out a sigh before the corner of his mouth twitched upward in amusement.
She found herself frozen on the spot with her cheeks heating up against the cold before she forced back her composure.
"Fine. Maybe a little bite or two." Bruce admitted grudgingly.
And so the two of them were subsequently seated side by side on the porch where Bruce was using a pair of chopsticks to rapidly dig into his meal, with more enthusiasm than he probably meant to show.
"Sooo," Mai began a little awkwardly, swinging her legs. "Having trouble with your training?"
From the way he paused, she thought she may have offended him. But he then swallowed a mouthful of rice before speaking.
"There's this technique your grandfather showed me. I can't seem to get it right." the frustration was evident in his voice.
"Ah, the Koukaku. Right?"
He regarded her curiously, prompting her to hop off the porch.
"Here, let me show you something."
As he watched her intently, the brown haired girl executed the move with practiced ease; running into a slide before launching her legs into a spin kick with her hand to the ground and then landing perfectly into a crouch.
She looked over to him with a smirk.
"You're trying too hard." she said.
Bruce's brows shot up.
"Huh?"
"I'm saying you can't be forceful with this technique." Mai said, standing up. "You have to ease up a little, be a gentleman and treat it like a dance."
"A dance?" Bruce asked.
Mai nodded and then suddenly, a small spark lit up in her eyes before she leaned forward with her hands coyly behind her back and a teasing smile gracing on her face.
"Do you want to dance with me, Bruce-san?"
Minutes went by as the skies darkened to give way to night and the air was alive with the light orchestral sounds of crickets, cicadas and frogs. In the yard, two individuals were engaged with new found vigor. They moved in sync, almost like they were magnetized; positive and negative.
Side by side and with enough distance between them, Mai and Bruce slid on the ground again before they both executed the kick in tandem. Bruce only lightly stumbled this time and Mai offered pointers on the timing.
It was a strange thing for the young boy. Up until now, he had only functioned with his outrage and channeled his hatred into every punch, into every kick. But now, he found himself taking a different approach. He eased the tension in his muscles, cleared his mind and just simply let himself go.
"You did it, Bruce-san!" Mai clapped her hands and cheered.
He did. Much to his amazement, executed the move perfectly.
"See? Not so hard after all." Mai chirped as she stood up.
Bruce stood and turned to face her. To Mai's utter surprise,…she sees a genuine smile on his face for the first time since he'd arrived.
"Thank you, Mai." he told her, his voice softly low. "I…I'll keep what you said in mind. And…"
His smile turned sheepish as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
"You,…don't have to be formal with me. Just 'Bruce' is fine."
Mai's eyes widened while her heart suddenly thumped and a warmth spread over her chest, making her forget the chill of the night.
She simply took in his presence; his blue eyes that seemed to light up their surroundings, the way his black hair slightly moved with the breeze and the glow of the fireflies illuminating the chiseled features of his face.
Realizing that she was staring, Mai quickly looked to the side to hide her blush and absent-mindedly played with a stand of her hair behind her ear.
"Y-yeah, sure." she stammered before abruptly barking at him in a flustered state. "B-Bu-but don't think this means I'll go easy on you tomorrow during sparring practice!"
Bruce chuckled.
"Hm. Wouldn't dream of it."
Mai Shiranui sat on the edge of the hotel bed, its crisp white sheets barely disturbed despite her having spent hours there lost in thought.
The evening sun shone through the windows, casting an orange peach glow on her beautiful yet melancholy visage. Her mocha hair vibrant and her chestnut eyes luminous with hidden amber hues.
From outside the fifth floor of their humble domicile, the same sun sank behind the disorderly columns of skyscrapers and cast its long shadows over the streets below that hummed with its usual cacophony. On occasional intervals, the sounds of sirens would pass and remind her why they'd come to this place, Gotham.
Her room showed few signs of personal touch: just a few photographs taped to the mirror, her trademark fighting outfit hung carefully in the open closet, and a half-empty suitcase she hadn't bothered to fully unpack. The adjoining rooms where Terry, Joe and Rock stayed were similarly spartan, though she imagined that they'd vacate as soon as the Tournament began. It still angered her that Terry decided to enter it after everything that happened.
She sighed in frustration as, once again, the Kunoichi found her memories drifting back to Bruce despite her conscious efforts not to.
He was so angry and serious when they first met, just a chore that her grandfather had assigned to her. But gradually, she began to see a gentle and vulnerable side; a boy lost in the world but a boy who cares, who has a heart. She couldn't remember how it happened but she felt herself being drawn to him, like he was her other half.
But then her memories shifted to their recent reunion.
Her hand unconsciously rose to her palm, still feeling the sting of the slap she'd delivered last night.
"How dare he!?" the thought burned through her like acid.
All those years ago, Bruce had simply disappeared from her life without a word, leaving her to piece together a broken heart she'd never admitted to anyone. She wrote letters that were never answered and all her attempts to find out where he had disappeared went nowhere. She then later found out who he really was: a self-indulgent billionaire playboy!
If it wasn't for Andy, she would've remained bitter all her life.
And then, at Cobblepot's opening party of all places, he'd appeared like a ghost from her past. Just a simple "Hello, Mai." as if he had any right to speak to her so casually after all this time. As if Andy wasn't…
But despite the anger she felt, other memories from that night began to surface…dangerously arousing memories.
The way the perfectly tailored black suit had emphasized his broad shoulders and tight muscles within, how his jaw was stronger, more defined with a light peppering of stubble that brought out a girlish thrill inside her.
Then there were his eyes. Those damned beautiful blue eyes. They hadn't lost a bit of the intensity that used to make her weak in the knees when she was younger.
Mai shifted restlessly on the bed as her traitorous mind wandered to forbidden territory. She remembered how close he'd stood behind her at the party, close enough that she could catch the subtle notes of his cologne mixed with something so masculine. His voice had deepened over the years, becoming rich and resonant in a way that sent involuntary shivers down her spine.
For one wild moment, she imagined what might have happened if she had grabbed him by his lapels instead of slapping him, if she'd pulled him close instead of pushing him away, if she pressed her lips to his and drank in his moist mouth. Would their kiss taste the same way as in her youthful fantasies? Would their touch…?
"No!" Mai physically shook her head as a deep blush spread over her face.
Shame and guilt crashed over her like a wave. How could she even betray Andy like that!? Especially when he wasn't avenged!
Her fingers clutched at the bedspread, knuckles white with tension.
"Andy. Andy." she reminded herself fiercely. "I love Andy. Only Andy!"
A knock at the door interrupted her spiral of guilt.
"C-come in." she called out almost flustered.
Mary's blonde head appeared around the door, her blue eyes filled with concern.
"Hey." she greeted before entering.
"Terry and Joe are worried about you. We all are. You've been keeping to yourself since the party."
Mai regarded her as Mary walked over to her bedside. The lady detective was still wearing her usual red crop top and star printed pants.
It was strange, Mai had never had a private conversation with Mary or delved beyond the surface level of their acquaintance, relying on snippets from Terry and Andy to form her impression. Mary's relentless pace, constantly jumping from one case to the next, had always kept her at arm's length.
However, Mai was aware of Mary's profound impact on Terry, helping him find his smile again after the loss of Sulia. She also considered her something of a 'beauty rival', playfully taunting her every time they faced each other at the tournaments. Perhaps she felt a hint of jealousy towards the blonde, Mary always seemed to have a stronger spirit than her.
"I'm fine." Mai replied, her voice flat. Then heat crept into her tone. "But I'll be better once we find the person who killed Andy."
"I know, Mai. I'm still looking into it." Mary nodded. "Believe me, I want to make the guy who did this pay as much as you do but these things take time."
"Time!?" Mai suddenly snapped. "Andy's killer is still out there and you want more time!?"
The enraged Kunoichi pointed at her accusingly.
"Some detective you are! You're useless! Since coming here, you've given us nothing! We've been sitting around…doing NOTHING!" Mai threw her hands up in frustration before softly panting in frustration.
Mary remained silent and didn't allow herself to get offended, recognizing the raw grief behind Mai's outburst. It still twisted her heart to see her like this, a far cry from the lovable vain airhead she was known for. Her thoughts went to what she and Batman had discovered about Andy, about his planned theft. How would Mai react to such information? Would it leave her disillusioned?
She decided to keep it to herself for now, she needed more know more. There just had to be more to it.
Instead Mary sat herself on the bed next to Mai, the mattress slightly creaking in the process.
"Did I ever tell you about Butch?" Mary asked.
Mai looked at her curiously as Mary sported a faraway look, her fingers absentmindedly touching the side of her neck.
"He was the love of my life." Mary said with a sad smile. "He and my dad used to work security detail for the President until they were both killed by terrorists."
The busty kunoichi looked away, feeling a conflicting mix of emotions. First Terry, now Mary? Did everyone have a tragic story? Did they all pull out these tales of loss to offer a flimsy, inadequate blanket of understanding? How could they possibly know the depth of her pain?
But as the resentment swelled, so did a prickle of guilt. Was she a hypocrite, seeking solace in her own isolation while simultaneously resenting others for trying to connect?
Regardless of her inner turmoil, Mary continued her tale.
"I spent years trying to find out who had sent them. I had access to Secret Service resources, police contacts, everything… and still, nothing. Just dead ends."
The blonde lady detective leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
"Eventually, I realised that I was just fishing for answers. Why that day? Why them? What if I called them and…somehow convinced them to take the day off?"
Finding herself unexpectedly being drawn in by Mary's words, Mai slowly turned back towards Mary. Perhaps she had never given it much thought before but she began to consider Mary's doubts and regrets similar to her own.
"I knew that Butch wouldn't have wanted me to live like that. So the best I could do was hold on to the jacket he left me. As…the last tangible piece of him I'll ever have."
Mai glanced at Mary's outfit.
"You're…not wearing his jacket anymore."
"No." Mary's lips curved in a small smile. "That had a lot to do with Terry, actually."
Realization hit her at that moment and she couldn't help but feel bad for the lady detective.
"I'm sorry it didn't work out with Terry." Mai said softly. "I really thought…I mean, I hoped you two would…" She trailed off, thinking of Terry's new girlfriend.
Mary shook her head, her smile turning wistful.
"Don't be. Meeting Terry, allowing myself to feel something for him. It freed me in a way, you know? I'll always love Butch but holding onto the past wasn't going to honor his memory. Not wearing the jacket was my way of saying goodbye to him."
Mai thought back to Terry's words at the party:"Don't be afraid to love again… like I once was."
The words echoed in her mind, carrying a weight she hadn't felt before. Was it possible to honor Andy's memory while still allowing her heart to heal? To move on? For a brief moment, her mind entertained the idea...with Bruce...
But then Andy's face flashed in her mind and the fury came rushing back. How could she think about love when his killer was still out there!? How could she even consider moving on when justice hadn't been served!?
"Mai." Mary's voice was gentle but firm, as if she could read the struggle on her friend's face. "Trust me. I'm close to a breakthrough. We'll find out who did this."
After a few more minutes of quiet conversation, Mary took her leave.
In the brightly lit hotel hallway, she leaned against the wall and sighed heavily. The lie tasted bitter in her mouth as she was nowhere near a breakthrough as she claimed.
Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath, systematically going through what she knew.
Andy's theft, his murder, the missing data, Hokutomaru's disappearance, the explosion at the apartment…all of it had to be connected. But how?
She mentally traced each thread, watching them all lead back to one source: Zanac Corporation. More specifically, its CEO: Alexander Soliani.
The reclusive executive had gone completely dark since the theft, speaking only through carefully worded press releases and lawyers. Something about him nagged at her instincts. Whether he was directly involved or being manipulated, Soliani was the key to unraveling this mess.
But getting to him would be next to impossible. If the GCPD couldn't get past his wall of security and legal protection, what chance did she have? Mary ran a hand through her blonde hair in frustration. She needed an edge, someone with resources and experience navigating Gotham's labyrinth of corporate secrets.
Batman.
The image of him, his eyes like chips of ice, flashed through her mind. Their encounter had been brief, chaotic, and yet…exhilarating. But yes, working with him might prove to be fruitful.
A slight warmth crept into her cheeks as her thoughts drifted to their more intimate contact. First during their fight, then the feel of his arms around her as they plummeted towards the ground. His presence was certainly intoxicating; his strong jaw, the light scent of kevlar mixed with his masculine musk.
Mary felt her face grow hotter as the memory of straddling him after their escape wafted into her mind and for a tiny moment, she imagined the two of them grinding into each other like animals in the nude.
"Whoa! Whoa! Get it together, Ryan!" she chided herself, slapping her palms against her burning cheeks.
What was she thinking!? Swooning like some horny teenager!? Sure, he was impressive, but her fan-girling was getting out of hand. She was a professional, for crying out loud!
She pushed off from the wall, her boots silent on the plush carpeting as her mind turned to her next move. If she wanted Batman's help, she'd need to find a way to contact him first. No small feat in itself.
"Looks like I'll be needing another favor from DeSoto."
The remnants of Gotham's maritime past still lingered at Gotham Harbor, where dilapidated structures from the 1930s stand in stark contrast to the modern industrial sprawl that has consumed the waterfront.
Docked by the side of the concrete pier was a massive cargo vessel, its hull rising like a steel cliff face. If one were to descend the iron rung ladders, located on the same side of the pier as the docked ship, they would find an old wooden boardwalk; a vestige of the harbor's bygone era, now used for smaller vessels.
Adjacent to a chaotic array of shipping containers stands a looming warehouse, its windows dark save for a single security light above a heavy sliding door.
Dimly lit by scattered flood lights and with the perpetual scent of salt and diesel, the whole scene indeed feels eerily frozen in time; caught between Gotham's past and present.
Towering above it all were tall loading cranes looming over the concrete pier and perched atop the nearest control cabin, sat Nightwing. His blue emblem glinted in the fading light and the front bangs of his dark hair danced playfully in the cool sea breeze.
His steely gaze was broken when he heard the soft paff of a grapnel gun behind him, followed by the subtle clink of its hook finding purchase. Nightwing looked back to see a familiar figure rising up and joining him.
"What took you?" he smirked.
Batman crouched silently beside him, ignoring the quip as his white lenses focus on movement below. Four figures have emerged adjacent to the warehouse. He recognized three of them as members of the Penguin's old crew; particularly Ignatius Ogilvy, Penguin's loyal lieutenant. But the fourth one, a woman with short platinum hair wearing a black leather jacket/top and hot pants, stood out like a sore thumb.
He guessed this must be the person King mentioned.
"See anything?" Batman's gravelly whisper carries no further than Nightwing's ear.
Years of partnership tell Nightwing exactly what Batman's asking: any other players, any hidden threats, anything out of place in general. He shakes his head slightly.
"As of now, nothing." Nightwing responds. "I guess we just have to play the waiting game from here."
Down on the pier, Ángel saunters past stacked containers, swinging the briefcase like a designer handbag while her free hand rests casually on her hip. Behind her, Ogilvy's jaw clenches as he matches her pace, flanked by two of Penguin's men who scan the shadows with practiced wariness.
"Are you sure you have this handled?" he asked her, his voice laced in agitated doubt. "Because if you screw this up, the boss will be-"
Ángel spins on her heel, holding up a finger at his face with a playful smile.
"Aw, lighten up nya~. You're too tense!"
The busty latina skips ahead, turning to face him while walking backward.
"How about after we get the goods, we hit the town and go partying? Yeah, let's down a couple of chelas bien muerta and dance till the sun comes up!"
She punctuated her words with a little dance; slightly pumping her fists up and down, that makes the briefcase bob in rhythm, while her swaying hips.
Ogilvy's weary grunt barely masks his contempt.
"Why did I have to get stuck babysitting this bitch?" he thought, watching her performance with hardened eyes. "What was Mister Cobblepot even thinking, bringing her aboard?"
His disdain, however, was tempered by a flicker of pragmatism.
"Still, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt for the time being. And like the boss said: if she does step out of line…then I'll make sure she's one less problem to worry about."
At that last thought, his hand subtly brushes against his holstered gun.
"So when's this Dickstroke guy gonna show up anyway?" Ángel chirps.
"DEATHstroke." Ogilvy corrects through gritted teeth. "And I suggest you show some respect. He's extremely dangerous and worth way more than both your money-makers combined."
"Venga ya." Ángel scoffed, her voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "How tough can he really be?"
As if to answer her question, the night air cracked with the sudden sounds of rapid gunfire accompanied by a spray of concrete as bullets stitch a line across their path.
Startled, Ogilvy and his men leapt back in alarm and drew out their handguns. They snapped their aim around frantically, trying to pinpoint the source of the attack.
Ángel, on the other hand, remained on the spot and merely cocked her head with mild curiosity.
A voice echoed from the darkness.
"That's far enough."
From the shadows emerges a figure in segmented midnight blue and orange tactical armor. His mask, covering his entire face, is split between the colors with only a single eye visible on the left and the long twin cloth of a bandana tie flap in the wind.
Deathstroke's reputation walks before him like a storm cloud, heavy with unspoken menace. In front of him, he holds a terrified young woman: Caroline Stanzack, her blue eyes wide with fear, blonde hair arranged in two braided locks tied back with an expensive blue bow. Her blue top and yellow skirt speak of wealth, now wrinkled in Deathstroke's iron grip as he keeps his submachine gun trained on the group.
"Cool mask." Ángel grins.
"W-Who are you people? Please! Tell him to let me go!" Caroline struggles uselessly against Deathstroke's arm.
Ángel bends forward slightly, offering a playful wink.
"Oye hombre, aren't you being a little too rough? At least buy the chica a drink first, nya~?" she wags a finger at him.
Deathstroke's single eye narrows, not looking the least bit amused.
"Let's get one thing straight." the assassin stated. "I don't like working with amateurs. And I don't like being played and if I find out that I am, then I'll be leaving every one here with holes to spare."
The words have barely left Deathstroke's mouth when the warehouse door explodes open with a metallic screech. Both Deathstroke and Ogilvy's team instinctively tighten their grips on their weapons as four silhouettes bound from the darkness, the harsh flood lights catching the metal of their raised assault rifles.
Two figures level their weapons at Deathstroke, their appearance were both cartoonish and chilling. Decked in striped pants, polka dot vests and suit jackets while both their heads were covered each with an over sized rabbit mask. The other two figures on the left, training their rifles on Ángel's group, wore similar attire with the exception of their masks being of a mouse.
Even Deathstroke's stance shifts, his single eye darting between the new threats as he adjusts his hold on both Caroline and his submachine gun. Ogilvy and his men spread out slightly, their handguns switching targets between the masked gunmen and Deathstroke, sweat beginning to bead on their foreheads.
In the span of seconds, the simple exchange has transformed into a three-way Mexican standoff.
"Oh, no no no. That won't do at all."
The new voice sounded from inside the warehouse before its owner stepped out into the light. It belonged to a diminutive man in a tattered green coat and a tall top hat with a "10/6" card sticking out from the wrapped ribbon above its brim. His wild orange hair framed a face dominated by protruding teeth set in a disturbing grin.
"Holes are so dreadfully common." he said. "Every teacup has one. Why, the best kind of holes are invisible. Like the holes in your logic or your understanding of proper etiquette for that matter."
From their vantage point, Batman's eyes momentarily widened in surprise.
"Mad Hatter?"
AKA Jervis Tetch: a genius neuroscientist specializing in mind control technology. It would seem that he was the one Penguin wanted to deal with. But for what?
"Looks like the gang's all here." Nightwing mutters.
"KYAAA!" Ángel's exaggerated squeal cuts through the tension. "I love those costumes! Muy Kawaii!"
"What is going on here? WHAT IS ALL THIS!?" Caroline's panic rises.
Hearing the woman's voice, Mad Hatter quickly turns to her in an excited manner and extends his hands toward her in an unsettling gesture of comfort.
"Shhh, hush hush, sweet Alice." he says softly, eyes gleaming with obsession. "Don't you worry, soon we will be together. Besides, it's almost tea time."
"Alice?" Caroline's confusion mingles with growing terror as she looks between the assembled criminals.
As he continued to observe the exchange, Batman felt his body tense with outrage. Caroline's role in this twisted deal was now beginning to make sense to him. Penguin had intended to use her as a bargaining chip, a pawn to curry Tetch's favor.
He was well aware of the Mad Hatter's fixation with a particular type of women, his "Alice", whom he would torment and manipulate to fulfill his sick fantasies before his damaged pysche forgets it all and moves on to the next "Alice".
Whatever plans Tetch intended for her,…he knew damn well it was nothing whimsy.
Deathstroke speaks up at this point, cutting through the tension.
"Alright. Since we're all accounted for, let's get this over with." his voice hardens with a dangerous edge. "Where's my money?"
"Here ya go!"
Ángel grins and then drops the briefcase before casually kicking it across the concrete. It spun like a top until Deathstroke's boot stops it dead. His levels a glare towards her.
"You should've opened it first." he growls. "How do I know you're not holding out on me?"
"Aw, don't you trust me nya~?" Ángel pouted in mock-cuteness.
"No."
"God damn it, woman!" Ogilvy palms his face before he steps forward, reaching for the case. "Let me just show you-"
The mouse-masked gunmen snap their rifles up, halting him in his tracks.
"Plotting against me, are we?" Mad Hatter's voice rises an octave. "Nobody makes a move until Alice is safely in my possession!"
"And what about your end of the bargain, huh?" Ogilvy's voice hardened.
"Come now, why keep ends when we can keep beginnings!?"
Mad Hatter giggles before clapping his hands to signal another mouse-masked man to bring another briefcase. It was thicker and bulkier compared to the one Ángel had, with encircling metal plates.
"There! Just as the Penguin requested. But you'll only have it once you give me Alice!" the Hatter reiterated.
As Caroline continues to struggle against his grip, Deathstroke's tactical mind begins to spin, already calculating new angles.
"Now you got me curious. What exactly did Penguin want so badly anyway?" the assassin asks.
"Yeah!" Ángel bounces on her heels. "What's in the box!? What's in the box!?"
"That's between me and your employer." Mad Hatter sniffs.
"Que~? So it's nothing?" Ángel asks.
The Hatter's face begins to contort in outrage.
"Nothing? NOTHING? Why, this is most certainly Something! And a very important Something! I would never trade mere Nothing for my precious Alice!"
With his voice rising to a fever pitch, the storybook villain gestured to the metal briefcase.
"This, you ignorant girl, is a Neural Stream Re-coder! It can rewrite the very signals in one's brain! Make them see what isn't there! Make them believe what isn't true!"
"Mind manipulation…" Deathstroke's posture shifts subtly.
The mercenary falls silent, his single eye fixed on the briefcase as he processes this revelation. Then, he makes an abrupt decision and addresses the Mad Hatter.
"I've got a proposal for you, Hatter. Let's make things simple: you give ME the case, I give you the girl."
"What?" Mad Hatter's theatrical confidence falters, caught off guard by this sudden deviation from the script.
The color drains from Ogilvy's face as he realizes the situation is spiraling out of control.
"Hey, hold on there! This wasn't the deal!"
"Deal's changed." Deathstroke's boot lashes out, sending the briefcase of money skittering across the concrete. "Tell the Penguin I expect him to pay much more if he wants it for himself."
He turns back to Mad Hatter, his mask betraying nothing.
"What do you say, Hatter?"
Jervis Tetch wrings his hands, caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. The prospect of having his Alice sooner than expected sends electricity through his nerves, but Deathstroke's unexpected power play has thrown him off balance. His usual poetic proclamations dissolve into uncertain stammering.
"Thi-this is so sudden…I…"
"Tick Tock, Tetch." Deathstroke's evaporates as he presses the submachine gun harder against Caroline's temple. "Or would you prefer me to deliver her in a body bag or after a long swim in the bay? Either way doesn't matter to me."
Caroline's scream pierces the night air, and something snaps in Mad Hatter's eyes.
"NO!"
Mad Hatter lurches forward, frantically waving at his rabbit-masked gunmen to lower their weapons. His usual grandeur crumbles into desperate pleading.
"P-p-please, don't let anything happen to Alice. I-I'll give it to you."
Ogilvy's jaw clenches as he watches Penguin's plan disintegrate before his eyes. The thought of returning to his boss empty-handed sends ice through his veins.
"Son of a…!"
Panic overrides judgment. There's only one play left.
"Ice them all!" he bellows to his men.
The harbor erupts in gunfire as Olgilvy and his men unload their rounds towards the mouse-masked gunmen who return fire. Caroline's terrified screams mix with the chaos as she struggles against Deathstroke's iron grip. Bullets spark off shipping containers as everyone scrambles for cover.
Everyone except Ángel who, much to the surprise of Olgilvy, launches herself forward with a daring grin.
Dodging and twisting between bullets with impressive athleticism, she vaults over one of the rabbit-masked gunmen, planting both her hands on his head and holding herself over him in a 'handstand' before parting her legs out wide and then twisting her body, which in turn twists at his head and throws his body off balance. Ángel ends the finisher, dubbed the "neck cutter", by spring-boarding off him as he fell. The other gunmen failed to react as she dashes past their guard.
During that same time, high above, Nightwing's muscles began to tense.
"This is getting out of hand. I'm going in!"
"Wait-" Batman starts, but his former protégé is already in motion, twin escrima sticks glinting as he leaps off and dives into the fray.
Letting of a weary sigh, Batman's cape unfurls as he follows, knowing the situation has just become exponentially more complicated.
Back on the ground, the exchange between Mad Hatter and Deathstroke was underway. But just as Deathstroke's fingers touch Mad Hatter's briefcase, a boot appears from nowhere and kicks it high into the air.
As Deathstroke stood momentarily stunned, Ángel backflips and launches herself in the air, snatching the briefcase as she did before landing atop of a shipping container.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Mad Hatter shoves Caroline towards one of his mouse-masked men who trap her in his arms.
"Quickly! Take her!" he shrieks. "The tea party must not be delayed!"
"Let me go!" Caroline protests.
As the villains attempt their escape with their captive, Deathstroke's single eye narrows towards Ángel as he unsheathes his sword with his gun trained on her.
"Shouldn't have done that, lady." he growls threateningly.
"Nya~. And you shouldn't have cheated. You wanna fair game?"
She sticks her tongue out teasingly.
"Then try and catch me."
TBC
