52 - The Novel
The Question proceeded down the nave to the edge of the cavity. Snatches of a profane invocation emerged from the hole. She recognized the sly, sibilant voice even before she got close enough to peer down into the depths below.
"Bound and gagged, hostage and victim, prisoner and slave," Whisper A'Daire chanted, "thus do we offer the fool's flesh, that of your wayward daughter, your lost wolf. ..
The overly familiar cadences made the Question's skin crawl, but not as much as what she saw as she furtively peeked over the edge.
The Cult of Crime had transformed one of the cathedral's underground crypts into an unholy temple that reminded Renee of the one she and Vic had infiltrated in Bialya, back when there still was a Bialya. The rotting bones of past sacrificial victims occupied niches carved into the walls of the desecrated catacomb, but she barely registered their presence. Instead her attention was seized by the terrifying sight of Kate lying, chained and gagged, atop a large stone sarcophagus that now served as an altar. She was dressed as Batwoman, but her mask and utility belt were missing. Her luxuriant red hair was elegantly coiffed. Beauty makeup failed to entirely conceal her swollen eyes and busted lip. Rusty chains bound her to the lid of the coffin. Wide awake, she squirmed and tugged at her bonds, but to no avail. A black silk gag kept her from shouting at her captors.
Bruno Mannheim, his brutish anatomy incongruously garbed in a flowing crimson robe, stood over Kate's supine form. He held aloft a fancy-looking golden dagger. Whisper A'Daire, wearing the same "naughty nun" outfit she had sported in Bialya, was positioned behind a nearby lectern, where she read aloud from the Book of Crime. A circle of low flames surrounded the ceremony. No other congregants appeared to be present.
"And saying such, the Killer drew his shiv 'cross the Whetstone of Brutus once, twice, thrice, and using its edge did test it on hisself...."
In accordance with the lurid text, Mannheim sliced his own thumb with the gleaming blade. Kate glared at him with both fear and fury as he rubbed the thumb beneath her eyes, smearing his blood across her face. The silk gag muffled her protests. The Question shuddered at the degrading scene; if not for her mask, she would have looked just as pissed off as Batwoman.
"Splitting the skin of his thumb, and anointing the frail with his claret..."
The Question had heard—and seen—enough. She drew the ray gun from beneath her coat.
Remember Shiruta, Charlie? The girl I killed, the Intergang suicide bomber?
"And seeing the razor cut quick and right, he readied hisself to the wet work before him...."
Mannheim raised the knife with both hands. He stood poised to bury the point of the blade in Kate's chest.
"In Cain's name, we commend this offering, the heart of the Twice-Named Daughter...." ,
The Question calmly aimed the gun at Mannheim.
What goes around, comes around. '
"That the fires of your hate and pain may blaze on Earth ..."
Her finger tightened on the trigger—just as a pair of beast-men tackled her from behind. She fired off a shot, but the blast went wild, disintegrating one of the slumbering skeletons instead of Mannheim. Savage growls filled her ears as she tumbled forward over the edge.
Damn! She landed roughly onto the dusty stone floor of the crypt, just outside the flaming circle. The two monsters—a horned satyr and a were-grizzly—pounced down after her. Startled, Mannheim stepped back from altar, lowering the dagger. Whisper darted out from behind the lectern. Her slitted eyes widened at the sight of the faceless intruder. Oh well, Renee thought. At least I kept hold of my gun this time.
"I told you!" Mannheim shouted. The Question's abrupt appearance obviously upset him. "I told you, Whisper!"
The outraged priestess didn't argue the point. "Kill her!" she commanded the beast-men. "Kill her!"
The bear-man and the satyr charged at the Question, who dropped them with one shot each, while Whisper came at her from the side. Iridescent scales spread across Whisper's exposed skin as she took on a more serpentine form. Folds upon her throat inflated into a cobra's hood. Fangs extended from her gums. Venom sprayed from her lips.
The caustic saliva burned right through the Question's glove, stinging her skin. She yelped in pain as her gun slipped from her fingers. Whisper sprang at the Question, her jaws open impossibly wide. "Foolissssh girl!"
She charged into the Question, shoving her up against the wall. Renee threw her forearm up beneath Whisper's chin in order to keep the snake-woman's fangs from her throat. Bones rattled in the limestone niche behind her. The circle of flames danced between them and the altar. The Question glimpsed Kate struggling atop the ponderous stone coffin.
"Her blood will ssspill here," Whisper hissed. A forked tongue flicked between her lips. Her slender legs melted together, forming the tail of an enormous serpent. Half woman, half cobra, Whisper now resembled a lamia out of classical mythology. The Question fought to keep the monster's venomous fangs at bay. "It isss written in the Vile Book!"
"I'm doing a rewrite," the Question said. Adapting a martial arts move she had learned in Nanda Parbat, she flipped Whisper into the ring of fire. The lamia shrieked in agony as the flames raced over her inhuman body. The scaly tail thrashed frenziedly as Whisper threw herself away from the fiery circle. Hissing furiously, she slithered away into the catacombs.
That's one less snake to worry about, the Question thought. She hastily scooped up her gun from the floor. To her alarm, she realized that she had lost track of
Mannheim in the confusion. Where is he? she thought frantically. Gun in hand, she whirled around toward the altar. What about Kate?
"The Word is perfect," a gruff voice intoned. "My faith without question."
The Question saw Mannheim plunge the dagger into Kate's chest. Her mouth was still gagged, but her body arched in agony. Mannheim's eyes blazed in exultation.
"NO!" Renee screamed. She fired the pistol and a brilliant yellow blast grazed Mannheim's thick skull. He toppled backward, away from the altar, leaving the golden blade embedded in Kate's chest. "No no no!"
Racing death, the Question rushed to the altar. Four short bursts from the ray gun disintegrated Kate's chains, freeing her, but the horrified detective feared that she was already too late. "Please, Kate, hold on...
Not again. Not this time.
She glanced quickly at Mannheim. The mob boss appeared to be down for the count, sprawled upon the floor at the very edge of the flaming circle. A tendril of white smoke rose from a nasty-looking burn on his temple. His pomaded black hair was singed above one ear. His once-crazed eyes were now closed at last. Part of Renee wanted to kick his ugly face in, but it was Kate who needed her full attention now.
"You're not doing this," she insisted, carefully tugging the gag away from Kate's mouth. "You're not dying...."
But the grisly sight before her seemed to mock her pleas. The dagger was buried deeply in Kate's chest, precisely in the center of the bat-symbol on her costume. There wasn't a whole lot of blood visible yet, but the Question knew a mortal injury when she saw one. Her memory flashed back to Crispus Allen lying dead on a street not terribly far from here, and of Vic Sage expiring in her arms amidst a plain of bloodstained snow.
No. This time is different. It has to be! .
"Gotta get the knife out," she murmured. Her fist closed around the hilt of the dagger.
"No..." Kate weakly lifted a hand to stop her. "That'll make it worse...." She looked up at the Question. Somehow she seemed to recognize Renee despite the disguise. Her fingers lightly grazed the pseudoderm. "Where'd your face go.... ?"
"You're looking at it," the Question said, choking back a sob.
"Not for long," Mannheim growled. Blood leaked from his wounded skull as he grabbed onto the Question's throat and yanked her away from Kate. She croaked loudly as Mannheim's powerful hand squeezed her larynx. "I'm going to rip it clean off your head!"
"Renee!" Kate gasped, too weak to intervene.
Mannheim pivoted,
catapulting the Question into a wall. Dusty skeletons shattered on impact, rattling down onto the floor. Still maintaining a tight grip on her gun, the Question twisted her body in time to keep from breaking any of her own bones. But that didn't keep her head from spinning. She staggered groggily across the floor of the crypt. Chances were, she was already suffering from a. concussion.
Oh, this is bad in so many ways,
Mannheim strode through the fire toward her. His crimson robe appeared irritatingly flame-resistant. "By the way, I'll take my gun back now." He grabbed onto her gun arm and twisted it painfully, until she was forced to release the weapon. "If you don't mind."
"Hey," the Question said shakily, "all you had to do was ask."
Unamused by her flippant response, he pitched her headfirst into the side of the altar. She slumped down onto the floor. Kate tried to reach for her, but the movement obviously caused her excruciating pain. A sharp intake of breath hinted at her anguish.
"Funny," Mannheim snarled. He marched toward the Question, coming between her and the altar. His massive frame blocked her view of Kate. "Let's see if you make a funny pile of dust."
The Question tilted her heard to peer past the looming gangster. "I wouldn't do that," she whispered hoarsely.
"You wouldn't?" Mannheim sneered down at the faceless woman. He raised club-sized fists. "And why not?"
He stiffened abruptly. His troglodyte features contorted as the point of his sacred blade suddenly protruded from the center of his chest. Dark arterial blood streamed down his robe.
"She wasn't talking to you, Bruno," Kate explained, kneeling atop the altar. Her hands let go of the dagger's hilt. Her chestnut eyes flashed vindictively. "She was talking to me."
Mannheim toppled forward, landing facedown upon the floor. The hilt of the dagger jutted from his back. Kate, the last of her strength evaporating, started to tumble off the altar, but the Question jumped up to catch her before she hit the ground. She collapsed into Renee's arms.
This time it's different. . ..
Kate glanced down at her chest, where her bat-insignia rapidly disappeared beneath a spreading crimson oval. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. "Think maybe ... I shouldn't have done that...
With the blade no longer sealing the wound, Kate's lifeblood began to gush from her heart. "Stay with me," the Question urged as she gently laid Kate back down atop the altar. Her gloved hand pressed down on Batwoman's chest, applying pressure to the wound. "Stay with me."
Dawn's light began to creep into the crypt from the stained glass windows and shattered ceiling above them. Since they were not being engulfed by a bottomless pit of flame, the Question assumed that Nightwing and Abbot had managed to locate and disarm all six of Intergang's infernal devices. The sirens of the fire engines slowly died away outside.
Her hands stayed atop Kate's bleeding chest, while she silently recited the same mantra over and over again.
This time it's different.. . .
WEEK 43
OOLONG ISLAND.
"My name is Doctor Thaddeus Sivana," the mad doctor said. Spotlights shone down on his hairless cranium as he addressed the television camera. A uniquely modified microphone transmitted his voice to every TV set, radio, computer, and iPod on the planet. "And I represent a coalition of the greatest scientific minds of the twenty-first century."
It had been over a week since they had been able to raise their sponsors in Gotham. The scuttlebutt was that Boss Mannheim was dead and Intergang in complete disarray. Guess that makes us free agents, Sivana thought, which means that we need an alternative source of funding. Hence, today's force-fed infomercial.
"We have in our possession the world's most dangerous living weapon. He killed over two million men, women, and children in a single night. Then he vanished."
The robotically controlled TV camera panned over to capture an eyecatching shot of Black Adam being held captive in Sivana's personal laboratory/torture chamber. Black Adam was shackled to an upright operating table. The Neural Crown upon his brow sent epileptic tremors through his convulsing body. His face was contorted in agony. A string of drool hung from his quivering bottom lip.
"We have Black Adam."
A red light blinked atop the camera as it swiveled back toward Sivana. A sinister grin stretched across his gargoyle-like visage as he addressed his worldwide audience.
"Now, how much am I bid?"
"He's not merchandise," Green Lantern declared hours later. The Justice Society stood atop a glider composed of cool emerald flames. The glider hovered in the air outside the force-held dome defending Oolong Island. His power ring tapped into the island's broadcasts, projecting a miniature image of Sivana's leering face. "We're here to take Black Adam into custody, by force if necessary."
Mister Terrific stood beside Green Lantern on the platform. Despite Sivana's devious efforts to route his original transmission through a bewildering maze of satellites, servers, and global communications networks, it had taken Michael Holt only a few hours to trace the signal back to its source. His patented T-Spheres orbited his head; the baseball-sized computers used holographic displays to provide Mister Terrific with a constant flow of fresh information. Not for nothing was the brilliant African-American inventor and athlete known as the third smartest man on Earth.
"You found me more quickly than I expected," Sivana conceded. "I'll give you that. But you'll also find that this island's defenses are state-of-the-art and then some. No one is taking Black Adam from us without coughing up a king's ransom!"
"We'll see about that," Green Lantern said. He directed a beam of emerald energy at the force shield. Radiant green flames raced across the surface of the invisible dome, defining its borders. He nodded at his teammates. "Go to it."
The Justice Society went on the offensive, combining their powers in a determined effort to break through the force shield. Hourman popped a Miraclo pill, giving him superhuman strength for exactly sixty minutes. His energized fists pounded against the field. Stargirl used her Cosmic Rod to blast the dome with concentrated stellar energy. Power Girl focused her heat-vision on the same portion of the dome. The Flash punched the wall a thousand times a second. Doctor Mid-Nite stood ready to provide medical assistance if necessary. Mister Terrific's T-Spheres scanned the field with their sensors.
"We're making progress," he reported. The motto "Fair Play" was emblazoned on the sleeves of his Kevlar jacket. A T-shaped black mask adhered to his face. "Stargirl, increase the amplitude of your stellar blasts. That should increase the disruption to the energy lattice."
"You got it, Michael!" Courtney Whitmore called back. The perky blonde teenager adjusted the settings on her Cosmic Rod, a glowing metal staff that harnessed the energy of the stars themselves. "Whatever it takes!"
Wildcat paced atop the emerald glider. He slammed his fist into his palm. This sort of super-science was not his forte; he couldn't wait to get down to some old-fashioned fisticuffs. "Hurry up, guys and gals," he muttered in a thick Brooklyn accent. "I've got skulls to crack."
You and me both, Green Lantern thought.
"Maintain the shields!" Sivana ordered the other mad doctors. He stood upon the catwalk overlooking the main floor of the central laboratory. A large picture window offered him a panoramic view of the battle being waged just beyond the shore. His fellow scientists stared intently at their monitors, or else looked to him for instructions. Fear showed upon their ashen faces. Every one of them had been on the receiving end of a super hero beat down more than once and was no hurry to experience the same again. Security guards and lab assistants scurried about, frantically shoring up the island's defenses, many of which had already been damaged by Black Adam's attack three weeks ago. "Don't let those muscle-bound oafs intimidate you," Sivana exhorted his colleagues. "Hold your posts!"
Despite his pep talk, Sivana was less than sanguine about their prospects. If Black Adam alone could smash through the force field, he had to assume that the combined resources of the Jus
tice Society would also break down the barrier eventually. The hell with it, he thought. I'm not hanging around for this.
"Where's that teleport control?" He fished the remote control device from the pocket of his rumpled lab coat. The handheld remote was programmed to active a teleport link to the all-purpose Omnibot, currently in geosynchronous orbit over their heads. He visualized the giant robot cruising serenely above the blue white curve of Earth, far above the tempest descending upon Oolong Island. The cockpit installed in the robot's transparent brainpan seated two, which was one more seat than Sivana wanted or needed. A co-pilot would only slow his escape.
There was just one catch: To use the teleporter, he would have to lower the force field over the island, which would leave his fellow scientists and the rest of the base's personnel completely vulnerable to the JSA's assault.
Tough, Sivana thought. He took a final look at the immense, high-tech facility and let out a heavy sigh; it had been a cushy gig while it lasted. He shut down the force field and tapped the emergency escape code into the remote. Sayonara, boys!
A shimmering dematerialization beam whisked him away.
"The shield's down!"
Doctor Death's panicked cry was quickly echoed by the shouts and curses of the remaining scientists. Anxious eyes looked to the catwalk, only to discover that Doctor Sivana was no longer overseeing their defenses. Dr. Cyclops' single eye bulged from its socket. Baron Bug whimpered and crawled under his lab counter. Doctor Tyme's minute hand spun hysterically upon Iris clock face. Ira Quimby raced upstairs to look for Sivana. Frozen with fear, Rigoro Mortis was as stiff as a board. Veronica Cale looked almost relieved.
Time to go, T.O. Morrow decided. This place is going to be crawling with angry super heroes any minute now. He gulped down the last of his peach daiquiri and put the glass aside. Good thing my Omnibot is pozvered up and ready to go. He pulled open the top drawer of his filing cabinet and reached for the Omnibot's remote control device, but his fingers found only air. The drawer was empty. Someone had taken the remote.