52 - The Novel
Nightwing seemed to share Renee's concern about the mysterious device they had just found inside the shipping container. Opaque white lenses concealed his eyes, but there was no mistaking the worried cast of his mouth and jaw. He squatted down on his haunches to examine the machine while Renee looked on. She fidgeted restlessly.
"So how did you find out about Kate anyway?" she asked him. Given that they had met in Kate's vandalized apartment, there was obviously no point in trying to conceal Batwoman's secret identity.
"She didn't tell me who she really was, if that's what you're asking," he commented. "She just made it easy for me to figure it out." He glanced up at Renee. "Her way of saying she trusted me, 1 think."
Renee nodded. "That sounds like her." She wondered how much Nightwing knew about their stormy history. Not that it really mattered. She gestured at the ominous-looking device. "So what do you think?"
Nightwing stood up. "I think it's a bomb of some sort, and I should probably stop messing with it." He cautiously stepped away from the device. "Stuff like this is better left to experts. We ought to call in the G.C.P.D. to handle this."
"I'd rather not be here for that," Renee told him, "if you don't mind."
He looked her over. "That's right. You used to be a detective, didn't you?"
"I'm still a detective," she said forcefully.
Is that why you chose me, Charlie? That need to ask the question? The need for answers? Or was it something else? A way to fight your own demons?
Turning away from the blinking device, she squatted down in front of the pinned octo-man. The tips of the monster's upper tentacles twitched feebly against the floor. He smelled like sushi gone bad. She gagged at the stench even as she gave him her most intimidating interrogation stare. More than willing to play the bad cop, she grabbed onto his beak and forcibly lifted his head from the floor. She looked ready to rip his tentacles off one by one to get what she wanted. It wasn't an act.
"Where's Martnheim? Where's the woman he kidnapped?"
"It's too shhllpp late!" the octo-man slurped. "You will blplll burn, all of Gotham will burn!"
A shadow fell over Renee. "He's right," another voice rumbled behind her. "And it will begin with you!"
Diving instinctively to one side, she drew her gun. A burst of red-hot flames struck the floor right where she had been kneeling only a second before. A quick scan revealed four new beast-men on the attack, led by an honest-to-goodness dragon-man, complete with glittering bronze scales, the head of a prehistoric lizard, dorsal fins, and a flailing tail. Dragonhead perched atop a nearby stack of crates, glaring down at Renee and her prisoner. A cone of fire erupted from the creature's jaws. The blast barely missed Renee, incinerating the octo-man instead. The burning were-creature shrieked in torment as the heap of wooden pallets turned into a funeral pyre. "GNNHHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"
"Montoya!" Nightwing shouted as he leapt up and kicked Dragonhead across the jaw. "The device! Don't let them activate the device!"
A human-vulture hybrid, with a wattled throat, a hooked beak, and dark black wings, was already flapping toward the mystery device. A shaggy sasquatch and a snake-tressed gorgon followed close behind their avian accomplice, charging at Renee. She smacked her gun across the face of the gorgon, then sprinted after the vulture-man. Her soles pounded against the concrete as she raced past the smoldering remains of the octo-man. The nauseating smell reminded her of that time the Firebug torched the Gotham Fish Market....
Recovering from Nightwing's kick, Dragonhead belched flames at the hero, who seemed to catch a piece of the blast before he sprang out of the way. Renee hoped that Nightwing's snazzy costume was seriously fire-resistant. "Ahhh!" he yelped as he landed clumsily at the fire-breathing reptile's feet.
"Light the Inferno, brothers!" the dragon roared. "The time is now!"
Renee was gaining on the buzzard, until the sasquatch tackled her from behind. He hit her like a giant hairy linebacker, knocking her off her feet. Crashing toward the floor, she saw the vulture-man swoop down into the open cargo container. Three-toed feet touched down right in front of the humming machine. Renee threw her arms out in front of her; instead of trying to break her fall, she fired off another burst from her ray gun. The incandescent golden beam burned a hole straight through the buzzard's right pinion. He screeched in pain.
Winged him! she thought as she hit the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of her and jolted the ray gun from her grasp. The sasquatch's bulk pinned her to the floor, while the gorgon chased after the fallen weapon. The writhing snakes atop the beast-woman's head hissed like burning fuses.
Sorry to let you down again, Charlie, she thought, frustrated by her failure. You tried your best, in what little time you had left. Maybe you should have chosen another studmt. One less selfish and self-absorbed . . .
She was still dazed when the sasquatch stood up and yanked her to her feet. Grinning wickedly, the gorgon waved Renee's own gun in her face. A forked tongue reminded Renee of Whisper A'Daire. She was getting pretty damn sick of this never-ending freak show.
The bigfoot's rancid breath blew against the back of Renee's neck. Drool dripped from his prognathous jaw. A sloping brow made him look like the Missing Link. "Shoot her," he growled at the gorgon.
A few yards away Dragonhead had his scaly tail wrapped around Nightwing's throat. Grimacing, Nightwing tried to pull the constricting coils away from his neck, but wasn't having much luck. The left corner of his uniform was badly scorched. Sucker-marks still blemished his face. His feet dangled in the air as the dragon's tail lifted him off the floor.
"Don't you get it, meat?" Dragonhead jeered. Nightwing swung an es-crima stick at the monster's slitted eye, but Dragonhead easily blocked the blow with his right paw. Tiny red flames started to curl around the corners of the reptile's mouth as he got ready to roast Nightwing for good. "The outcome was already decided. This was all written long ago."
A guttural new voice intruded on the scene. "Then you probably should have seen this coming, hadn't you?"
Without warning, a furry black wolf-man pounced onto Dragonhead's back. Lupine fangs sank into the reptile's scaly neck. Dragonhead reared backward in surprise. His flaming breath shot uselessly at the ceiling, sparing Nightwing.
What the hell? Renee thought. She instantly recognized Abbot, Whisper's lycanthropic henchman, but what was he doing on their side all of a sudden? Her subhuman captors appeared equally stunned by the werewolf's unexpected arrival. The gorgon looked confused, uncertain what to do next. Just so long as she doesn't pull the trigger...
Caught off guard by Abbot, Dragonhead must have loosened his grip on Nightwing, who took advantage of the respite to kick himself free of the monster's tail. Cold blood sprayed across the warehouse as the wolf-man tore out a chunk of Dragonhead's shoulder with his teeth. Nightwing followed up with a flying kick across the reptile's face. Jagged incisors cracked to pieces, but the enraged dragon seemed angrier at the werewolf on his back. "Heretic! Infidel! Betrayer!" Dragonhead spit out chunks of broken enamel. Spraying saliva smelled like kerosene. "You shall—!"
Furious blows from Nightwing's plastic batons cut off the threat in midsentence. Abbot slashed his claws across the dragon's neck. A bloodthirsty howl issued from his throat.
There's something you don't see every day, Renee thought. A werewolf fighting a dragon fighting a super hero . .,
The two monsters threatening Renee didn't know what to make of this shocking turn of events. The gun-toting gorgon looked away from Renee to check out the bizarre clash going on only a few paces away. The sasquatch's sunken eyes were also glued to the fight. Even the snakes on the gorgon's head were distracted.
Renee saw her opportunity and took it. She savagely kicked the gorgon in the crotch, then snatched the ray gun back from the snake-woman's grip. Before the sasquatch even knew what was happening, she shot him in the bigfoot. He let go of her abruptly and stumbled backward, clutching his perforated foot, while the gorgon groaned weakly, dou
bled over in pain.
Wishing she was pistol-whipping Whisper A'Daire instead, Renee whacked the gorgon in the side of the head, putting her and her serpentine hairdo down for the count. She turned to deal with the sasquatch, but Nightwing beat her to the punch. An escrima stick ricocheted off the floor to hit the crippled beast-man right below the chin. The sasquatch dropped like a shag carpet onto the floor. How about that? Renee thought. Who knew Bigfoot had a glass chin?
She looked over at her allies and saw that Dragonhead had also been taken care of. The fire-breathing monstrosity lay in a pool of his own blood, his flames thoroughly extinguished. Was he still breathing? Renee was in no hurry to check. She had more pressing matters to worry about right now.
Like Abbot; for one.
The wolf-man stood over the prone body of his victim. Nightwing watched him warily, poised to defend himself at the first sign of an attack. Renee kept her gun raised. She hadn't forgotten that shipping office in Shiruta, where Abbot had massacred all those people. She trusted the lycanthropic hit man about as much as she trusted the Joker.
"The save buys you an explanation," Nightwing told him, "but not a lot more."
"You want a bloody explanation?" Abbot snarled. Fur and fangs melted away as he morphed back into his human guise. Now that her life was no longer in immediate jeopardy, Renee noticed that Abbot looked like he'd been through a hell of a fight. His right eye was missing, and one ear was partly torn away. Cuts and scrapes and bruises covered his naked body more than his brief tussle with Dragonhead could account for. Someone had worked him over pretty badly. "I'm sick of prophesies, that's my..." His remaining eye lit up as a sudden thought struck him. "Wait a sec ... where'd that buzzard get to?"
Crap! Renee thought. She had forgotten about the vulture-man, too. Spinning around, she spotted the wounded beast-man dragging himself up against the scary mechanism. There was a smoking hole in his wingspan, but that didn't stop him from wrapping his talons around a stainless steel lever. His hoarse voice held a fanatic's fervor.
"To the shiv, the gat, and the Red Rock, in thy unholy name ..."
Dragonhead's alarming instructions flashed through Renee's brain.
"Light the Inferno."
"No!" Nightwing exclaimed. He and Renee dashed forward to stop him, but Abbot grabbed onto both of them and dragged them backward, away from whatever doomsday weapon the mutated cultist was trying to activate. Even in human form, Abbot was unnaturally strong. Dammit, she thought. I knew we couldn't trust him!
"Let go!" Nightwing protested. "We've got to stop him!"
"Too late!" Abbot barked. "Get down!"
They hit the floor only a second before the suicidal buzzard pulled down the lever. A sudden burst of heat flared against Renee's face as the device ignited, instantly consuming both the vulture-man and the cargo container. A pillar of liquid flame shot through the roof of the warehouse and up into the night sky.
Way, way up.
Flat on the floor beside Nightwing and Abbot, Renee couldn't look away from the blazing column, which cast a red-hot glow over the interior of the warehouse. She' shuddered as she recalled that other etching in the Book of Crime: the flaming pit at the center of a damned city. Was this what Intergang had been planning for Gotham all this time?
And what did this mean for Kate?
"It's growing," Nightwing realized as they backed away from the flames and got to their feet. "It looks like it's spreading."
"It is," Abbot confirmed. He looked sickened by the sight. "Just not the way you imagine it. It's not going out." He pointed at the base of the pillar, which was busily burning its way through the concrete floor of the building. "It's digging down."
Fleeing the unbearable heat inside the warehouse, the unlikely trio relocated to the rooftop of an adjacent building. From that vantage point, Renee was able to see that the towering pillar of fire was just one of six skyscraper-sized torches lighting up the night. The burning columns were arrayed throughout the city, from the Upper East Side to Chinatown. Fire engines rushed from one blaze to another. Screams and sirens wailed over the crackling of the flames.
"Gotham burns tonight," Abbot stated. "Each device tears into the foundations of the city, igniting everything it touches. By dawn, a pit of fire will roar at your city's heart."
Renee recalled the apocalyptic illustration once more. "It doesn't make sense," she objected, "If Intergang wants Gotham, why turn it into a fire pit?"
"Because Mannheim believes everything in the Crime Bible is true and must come to pass." The disgust in the werewolf's voice made it clear that he was no longer a believer.
"What about Kate?" Renee asked. "The Twice-Named Daughter of Cain? Is she still alive?"
Abbot nodded. "Her heart is supposed to unite the flames and open the pit. Mannheim intends to sacrifice her at dawn."
"Over my dead body," Renee said fiercely.
Abbot was unimpressed by her bravado. "Easy enough for him to do, girl. Bloody hell, even if you can save her, it won't be enough."
"Then stop wasting time," Nightwing demanded. "And tell us what will be."
Renee stepped away, putting some distance between herself and the men. She felt destiny, and Vic's enigmatic agenda, closing in on her—or maybe it was just her future taking shape. Who am I, Charlie? Who am I going to be? Richard Dragon's words of wisdom echoed in her brain. "Some questions can only be answered by wearing a mask."
"Each device has to be shut down," Abbot explained to Nightwing. "Otherwise they'll simply bum where they stand until nothing is left."
Nightwing took Abbot at his word. "We'll split up," he declared, taking charge. The sucker-marks on his face had finally faded away. "You and Montoya go after the devices. I'll—"
"No," she said firmly. Her gloved fingers found the hidden switch on her belt buckle. A balled up wad of pseudoderm dropped into her hand. Tot's patented binary gases billowed out from the buckle. The swirling fumes smelled like baby powder and cardamom. She unfolded the mask and began to smooth it over her face. "It's got to be you two who go after the devices."
The pseudoderm bonded to her face as though it belonged there. Renee experienced a flash of claustrophobia as the artificial flesh covered her mouth, nose, and eyes, but the anxiety swiftly passed. She was surprised at how good it felt to be so empty and so free.
Who am 1? Who am I going to be?
The two men stared at her in surprise as the last of the fumes wafted past them. The gas reacted with the chemicals in her hair and clothes, changing their color. Her dark brown hair turned pitch-black. The trench coat went from tan to slate gray. Renee Montoya's distinctive features had disappeared beneath a smooth expanse of skin.
Good question.
"I'll take care of Mannheim," the Question said.
Nightwing took her transformation in stride. She guessed that he was used to all manner of masked heroes and villains. "You'll be going to rescue Kate alone," he pointed out. "Would you really die for this?"
Her blank face looked back at him.
"Wouldn't you?"
For the first time in years, she was going back to church.
Gotham Cathedral had been closed ever since the Crisis, when a freak meteor storm had trashed Cathedral Square and the surrounding neighborhoods. Scaffolding and opaque canvas tarps now covered the exterior of the looming Gothic edifice. A metal sign hung upon the chain-link fence surrounding the construction site:
CATHEDRAL SQUARE RESTORATION PROJECT
"Rebuilding the spiritual heart of Gotham."
REOPENING SUMMER NEXT YEAR Brought to you by your friends at Ridge-Ferrick Construction
Towers of flame, burning in the distance, cast an incarnadine glow over the Square. The crimson radiance made it seem like the sun was already rising, but the Question figured it was still at least thirty minutes until dawn. She hoped that would be enough.
For Kate and the city.
Taking one last look at the sky-high torches, she silently wished Nightwing l
uck and crept toward the cathedral. The padlock securing the wire gate proved easy enough to pick, while Richard's training gave her the finesse to slip past the scaffolding and tarps undetected. Peering through her eyeless mask, she spotted a jackal-headed beast-man standing guard just inside the cathedral. The canine sentry sniffed the air suspiciously.
Looks like I’m on the right track, she decided. Guess Abbot was on the level.
She picked up a nearby piece of rebar. Being careful to stay downwind of the jackal-man, she came up behind him and cracked the rebar against his skull. He dropped onto the worn marble floor of the vestibule. His tongue lolled from his muzzle. His tail twitched against the flagstones.
Time to let sleeping dogs lie, the Question thought. Hope PETA doesn't find out about this.
She cautiously entered the heart of the cathedral, and frowned behind her mask. The vaulted chamber, once a lovely monument to Gothic architecture, had been thoroughly gutted and vandalized. Obscene graffiti was scrawled upon the walls, along with blasphemous murals depicting high points in the unholy history of Crime: Cain slaying Abel, Judas betraying Christ, Sweeney Todd applying his bloody razor to the throat of an unsuspecting customer, Holmes and Mori-arty grappling at the brink of the Reichenbach Falls, Blackbeard laying siege to Charleston, Booth assassinating Lincoln, Bonnie and Clyde on a killing spree, the Joker beating Robin to death, Lex Luthor discovering kryptonite, an evil Superboy on a rampage, Jack the Ripper, Leopold and Loeb, Cheshire, Scarface, Lizzie Borden, Ra's al Ghul.... Everywhere she looked was more evidence of Mannheim's twisted religion, glorifying mass murder, torture, and every other heinous crime. I'll be damned, she vowed, if Kate's murder joins this sickening hit parade.
A large hole had been carved into the floor of the sanctuary, where the dais and altar used to be. Firelight emanated from deep within the hole. Smoke rose through a ragged gap in the vaulted ceiling.