"Batwoman," she volunteered. Despite being new at this game, she didn't seem at all intimidated by him. Dick admired her confidence.
He looked over her mouth-watering physique, which was scarcely concealed by her skintight costume. "Yeah," he said in appreciation. "Definitely not a Batgirl."
Prone upon the ground, the human cobra tried to slither away. He rustled across a pile of soggy cardboard toward a steaming manhole. Nightwing stepped down on his tail and the serpent hissed angrily. "Guess we should call the cops," he commented to Batwoman. "These freaks are all Intergang, right?"
Since when do mob goons transform into monsters? he mused. That was an ugly new wrinkle where Gotham was concerned. Clay face and Man-Bat weren't enough for one city?
"Yes," she confirmed. "They're led by a man named Mannheim." Night-wing nodded, recognizing the name. "I've been trying to find him for the last couple of weeks, but he's gone into hiding." She took out her frustration on the pinned snake-man, kicking the reptile in the head until it stopped wriggling. "I think I scared him."
Nightwing liked her style. "Imagine that."
Mannheim used to run Intergang from Metropolis, he recalled. He wondered what had brought the notorious gangster to Gotham. "If he's the Big Bad, we're going to have to find him." He took it for granted that Batwoman wasn't going to stop hunting Mannheim anytime soon. "I'll start searching in Burnley tomorrow, begin working my way south."
Batman, who tended to be territorial where Gotham was concerned, probably would have told Batwoman to go home and let him handle Intergang, but that wasn't how Dick Grayson worked. His stint in the Teen Titans had taught him the importance of teamwork—and of finding new talent. The way he saw it, the bad guys outnumbered them enough as is. We can use all the good people we can get.
Batwoman nodded. "And I'll take Tri-Corner and begin working my way south?"
"Unless you have an objection."
"No." She shook her head and withdrew a grapnel gun from her utility belt. The design was slightly different from the ones used by Batman and his proteges. She fired a grappling hook at an overhanging eave and let a built-in winch carry her up to the rooftops. Nightwing watched her depart, then realized that she had stuck him with cleanup duty. He sighed and extracted a supply of plastic wrist restraints from his gauntlet. He chuckled to himself and set about bagging the mutant menagerie scattered across the icy floor of the alley.
"Nice meeting you too."
WEEK 32
SAN FRANCISCO.
"Are we there yet?" the crocodile asked. He covered his eyes with his hands.
"Almost!" Osiris promised as he carried Sobek through the sky. He had named the nervous reptile himself, after the sacred crocodile god of ancient Egypt. Moisture sprayed against their faces as they descended through layers of dense cloud cover before emerging into the sunlight beneath the clinging mist. "Look! There it is!"
Titans Tower rose from an island in the middle of the harbor, within view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Landscaped gardens surrounded the gleaming T-shaped skyscraper, which was home to the world's most famous team of young super heroes: the Teen Titans.
Osiris couldn't wait to meet them.
It was Visitors' Day at the Tower, and throngs of teenagers, tourists, and more than a few adults were lined up to get the heroes' autographs and perhaps have their pictures taken with their favorite Titans. Robin, Beast Boy, Raven, Speedy, Wonder Girl, Cyborg, and Captain Marvel Jr. greeted their fans at the top of a winding stone pathway that led from a ferry dock up to the Tower. A bronze statue of the team's founding members, damaged in the Crisis several months ago, had already been, restored. Osiris recognized his fellow heroes from the news. Most of them were teen sidekicks following in the footsteps of their more famous mentors, fust like me and Black Adam, he thought. Despite their varied origins, he imagined that he had much in common with the remarkable young people below. We're sure to be great friends!
Startled gasps and shouts greeted him as he and Sobek swooped down from the sky. "Hello!" he called out to Beast Boy and the others. "My name is Osiris. I've come to join the Teen Titans."
He deposited Sobek onto the ground in front of the Titans. A plus-sized polyester jogging suit had replaced the tattered rags the crocodile had been wearing when Osiris first found him. He was determined that both he and
Sobek would make a good first impression. Nevertheless, frightened tourists and autograph seekers backed away from the large walking crocodile. If not for the reassuring presence of the Teen Titans, he suspected that the petrified mortals would have been fleeing in terror from the menacing reptile in their midst.
"Don't be afraid," he assured the crowd. "This is just Sobek, the talking crocodile." Back in Kahndaq, the palace staff had also been alarmed by Sobek at first. Osiris touched down onto the pathway next to the crocodile. "He's my best friend."
Sobek cowered timidly behind Osiris. "They're still afraid of me."
"They're the Teen Titans," Osiris told the bashful reptile. "They're not scared of anything."
"Yes, they are." Captain Marvel Jr. stepped forward and pointed at Osiris. The golden lightning bolt on his chest matched the one on Osiris' own uniform. "They're scared of you."
"Me?" Osiris said. "That's funny." He was excited to meet his American counterpart again. "My sister speaks highly of you and the rest of the Marvels." He gave little thought to the other youth's accusation. Osiris had seen enough American sitcoms to know that Western teens often teased each other, all in good sport. "I suppose you are joking.../'
Captain Marvel Jr. shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry about this, Osiris, but ..He looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leav'e."
"Leave?" Osiris didn't understand. "But I was hoping I could try out for your team." His eyes searched the faces of the other Titans, but none of them seemed inclined to challenge their teammate's decision. "I thought Sobek and I could meet some more friends. I was hoping you and I ..." His voice trailed off as his dreams of friendship seemed to be carried away by the brisk winter wind.
"I know the changes Black Adam has gone through," Captain Marvel Jr. conceded. "And I know a lot of that has to do with you and your sister." Osiris heard regret in his voice, but not uncertainty. His mind was made up. "I was at your sister's wedding. I saw your family take down Sabbac on Halloween. But that doesn't change the fact that the head of your family ripped a man in half on live television in the name of his old-school brand of justice."
"But I haven't done anything wrong!" Osiris protested. He couldn't believe how unfair this was. "I've only helped people. My whole family helps people everyday!" •
"It's true/' Sobek added. "Why just yesterday Osiris built a hospital in every village in southern Modora. And he painted them a lovely shade of green too!"
Osiris appreciated his friend's support. "We're only trying to make this world a better place."
But as he looked over the faces of the crowd, their suspicious expressions and fearful postures struck him through the heart like an enchanted spear. Mothers clung tightly to their children. Scowling visitors clenched their fists, or flinched before his gaze. Even the other Titans seemed to regard him warily, as though he might be some sinister super-villain attempting to infiltrate their ranks. Cyborg's sonic cannon hummed ominously. Speedy, Green Arrow's sidekick, drew an arrow from her quiver. Wonder Girl unhooked her golden lasso from her belt. Robin, the Boy Wonder, examined him dubiously. Beast Boy morphed into a belligerent green gorilla.
Hadn't the Titans been betrayed by a double agent once before? Osiris vaguely remembered reading about a former Titan, a girl named Terra, who had turned out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. No wonder they're not willing to trust me!
At least Captain Marvel Jr. seemed to be taking his pleas seriously. After mulling it over for a few moments, the American hero extended his hand to Osiris. "Convince the rest of the world of that," he promised, "and I'll help you join the Teen Titans."
Osiris
shook the other youth's hand. The deal was less than he had anticipated when he left Kahndaq this morning, but at least it held out some hope for the future. All he needed to do now was find some way to show the world that the Black Marvel Family meant them no harm.
But how on earth was he supposed to do that?
WEEK 33
GOTHAM CITY.
Christmas Eve, and the yuletide celebrations were underway in Cathedral Square. A ninety-foot-tall Norway spruce presided over the festivities, its evergreen branches bedecked by over thirty thousand sparkling lights. The magnificent tree was topped by a brand-new Swarovski crystal star, replacing the one Catwoman stole last year. A children's choir, warmly bundled up against the winter chill, serenaded the city with Christmas carols. Their angelic voices rang out across the Square. Last-minute shoppers scurried down the sidewalks, clutching their bags and packages. An avalanche of snowflakes gave all of Gotham a white Christmas.
Batwoman observed the holiday scene from the rooftop of Wayne Tower. Her cape blew in the wind as she took a moment to enjoy the music wafting up from below. Too bad I can't count on Intergang to take the night off, she mused. Alas, organized crime was no respecter of holiday traditions—and neither was Bruno Mannheim. God only knows what kind of perverted holidays are celebrated by the Cult of Crime.
"Merry Christmas."
The voice startled her, and she spun around to see Nightwing drop lightly onto the snow-covered rooftop. She relaxed and assumed a less aggressive posture, both impressed and dismayed that the masked hero had managed to sneak up on her so easily.
Unlike the Intergang assassin she had dispatched a few minutes ago.
Nightwing glanced down at the unconscious puma-man lying at her feet. The monster's feline muzzle was bloodied. A broken fang rested upon the snow. "Looks like someone is lacking the spirit of the season."
She shrugged. "I think the spirit is upon him now."
Nightwing laughed out loud. "Somehow I doubt that it's visions of sugar plums he's seeing at the moment." He reached behind his back and drew out a small, gift-wrapped package. A bright red bow and ribbon stood out against the metallic green wrapping paper. He held out the present. "For the Bat who has every thing."
"Mannheim's address?" she said hopefully.
"Still working on that one," he admitted, handing her the gift. "Go on. Open it."
Batwoman opened the package and peeked inside. A sleek black silhouette rested atop a velvet cushion. "Another Batarang." She lifted the weapon from the box. "How ... nice."
She hoped she didn't sound too much like a kid who had just gotten socks for Christmas.
"This isn't just another Batarang," he insisted. Her lack of enthusiasm didn't seem to bother him. "This is a real Batarang, not one of those homemade models you've been tossing about."
"It's lovely," she dissembled. Embarrassed, she tried to smooth things over. "I don't mean..."
He reached out for the Batarang. "Here. Give me." He carefully fingered the weapon, testing its sharpness. "Composite-graphite molded. Unbreakable to ten thousand psi. Laser-honed, never loses its edge." He sounded like a late-night TV huckster extolling the virtues of some new miracle product. "Aerodynamically tested, perfectly balanced, and if you throw it right..
With a flick of his wrist, he sent the Batarang whistling past her head. "Hey!" Batwoman yelped. The spinning missile executed a graceful arc above the Square before swooping back towards Nightwing's waiting fingertips.
"Returning." He plucked the weapon deftly out of the air. "So, no. Not really just another Batarang."
"Wow," Batwoman murmured, genuinely impressed. Where can I get some more of those things?
Nightwing handed the Batarang back to her. "Merry Christmas."
She decided not to spoil the moment by explaining that she was Jewish.
The polished silver menorah gleamed in the window of Kate's apartment as Renee watched the sun come up. Hanukkah had ended the night before. Kate had made a big deal of it, cooking latkes and even laying out jelly doughnuts for dessert. Vic had actually been lucid for most of the meal, even though he hadn't been able to keep any of it down. Kate said she did it because that's how her family celebrated Hanukkah, at least before her dad remarried. That was probably true, but Renee knew that wasn't why she had really done it. Hanukkah was a celebration of a miracle.
And, boy, could we use one of those right now, Renee thought.
"Upon the stair, I met a man who was not there. He was not there again today. I wish to gosh he'd go away."
Vic staggered out of his room, clearly delirious. A fluffy cotton bathrobe failed to conceal just how much he had wasted away over the last few weeks. His gaunt, haggard countenance, with its sunken sockets and cracked lips, was enough to make her miss the blank-faced mask he used to wear. He tottered unsteadily upon his feet. The soles of his slippers shuffled against the carpet.
Lunging forward, he grabbed onto Renee's shoulders. "I've got the answers, Myra!" he said feverishly. His bloodshot eyes stared urgently into hers, but were obviously seeing someone else. "The answer for both of us. It's been so simple, so obvious. Leave Hub City...
Not for the first time, Renee wondered who this "Myra" was and what she had once meant to Vic. She was ashamed by how little she knew about the life he'd led before they met. "Charlie . . ." She held onto him gently, afraid that he would fall and hurt himself. His arms felt shockingly light and fragile.
"I know that's what we should do," he insisted. "Mommy told me ..
Renee wondered if Vic's mother was even still alive. Hadn't he said something about growing up in an orphanage?
She should have been used to his incoherent rambling by now. He was delirious most of the time these days. It was the only way he could escape the pain. Still, seeing him like this, hearing him converse with phantoms from his past, tore her heart out every time. It's not fair. He didn't used to be like this.
"Made out of pseudoderm ... binder toxic under certain conditions ... blood poisoning ..." He ran his bony fingers over his face, as though feeling a mask that wasn't there anymore. "Tot... did you know this would happen...?”_
"Charlie." She tried to guide him back to his room, but he wasn't hearing her at all. He pulled in the opposite direction. "Let's get you back in bed."
He broke her hold with an elegant jujitsu move. "What's your name? I didn't ever hear your name...."
"It's Renee, Charlie. I'm right here." She wrestled him through the doorway into his room, which was now set up for hospice care. The IV stand and oxygen tanks had been joined by an ample supply of morphine, packaged in disposable syringes. With all the bottled oxygen on hand, she couldn't light up a cigarette even if she still wanted to. A nicotine patch helped keep the craving at bay. "I'm still with you."
Wild eyes locked on hers. For a moment, she thought that maybe he recognized her, but then he shoved her roughly away from him. "I'm sorry. I tried, I really tried ... I'm so sorry about Jackie." Weeping, he dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed. Guilt wracked his skeletal features. "I loved her like she was ours, Myra ... I loved her like I loved you...."
Renee got down beside him. She wrapped his arm over her shoulders and helped him to his feet, even as he continued to pour out his heart to his long-lost Myra. "I couldn't say it. You could say it, but I never said it...." Tears trickled down his face. "I love you...."
"I love you too," Renee said. She tucked him into bed, making sure the blankets were snug around him. Her weary body dropped into a chair next to the bed. She buried her face in her hands as, exhausted, Vic slowly drifted off to sleep. "Going to play in the snow now...."
Kate appeared in the doorway. She had changed out of her Batwoman gear into a sweater and slacks. Her auburn hair fell past her shoulders. Renee looked up from the chair. I didn't even hear her come in.
From the sound of Vic's labored breathing, she guessed that he was down for awhile. Moving quietly, so as not to wake him, she joined Kate in the living room. Utterl
y drained, but too distraught to sleep, she plopped down onto the Italian leather couch in front of the picture window. Kate placed a steaming mug on the platinum/silver coffee table. "Some hot cider might make you feel better," she suggested.
"Only if you added some bourbon to it," Renee said dryly.
Kate shrugged. "I didn't, but I can if you like." She reached for the mug.
"No." Renee pushed her hand away from the cider. Seeking refuge in a bottle wasn't going to do Vic any good; her sojourn in Nanda Parbat had taught her that much. "Seems that all the problems I have when I start drinking are still there when I stop."
Kate sat down beside her, close enough that Renee could lean against her. "You gave him peace. You should be glad for that."
"I am," Renee said. "I just wish I could get a little for myself."
Kate gazed at her, her captivating brown eyes full of sympathy. Reaching out, she gently lifted Renee's chin and bent her head down. Her lips found Renee's, and the two women shared a tender kiss. Over a decade had passed since the last time they'd done this, but, for the moment, Kate's lips were just as warm and welcoming as before. What does this mean? Renee wondered briefly, then decided not to worry about it. Right now, it was enough that Kate was here for her. Renee closed her eyes and surrendered to the moment.
"It stopped snowing," Kate said when they finally came apart. Renee rested her head on Kate's shoulder as they cuddled on the couch. The early morning sunlight glinted off the silver menorah in the window. Candle flames flickered warmly.
"Merry Christmas, Renee."
METROPOLIS.
Ice skaters looked up in amazement as the Black Marvel Family soared over the Centennial Park skating rink on their way to the Kahndaqi embassy Christmas decorations adorned the facades of the buildings ahead. Black Adam recalled his last visit to the embassy when he had executed Rough House before a mob of reporters and demonstrators. Today's excursion had a very different agenda, about which he had serious reservations.