by Greg Cox
“So do you think Lydia is inside this… for real?” Joanna asked. “Her actual remains?”
“It seems likely,” Batman replied. “This is what we’ve been looking for all this time, even if we didn’t realize it.”
And we got here first.
“But Billy Draper said he burned her body.”
“We can dismiss that as fiction by now,” Batman said. “Lydia may have died by fire—like other victims of the Burning Sickness—but not at the hands of a random stalker. Lydia fell victim to the Court of Owls… and Percy’s elixir. The predictions we’ve been chasing— they were hers.”
“That’s what Vincent implied,” Joanna recalled breathlessly, “but he didn’t say anything about wanting to find her body. Just a new-and-improved formula.” She gave the casket a speculative look. “Maybe Percy buried the formula with Lydia,” she suggested. “That would certainly be in character. Another ironic jab at the Court.”
“That, or there may be another answer,” he replied. “What if the final version of elixir is actually inside Lydia’s body, infused into her tissues… or what’s left of them?”
“If that’s the case, then the formula isn’t written down anywhere, but baked into her flesh and bones.” Batgirl considered the possibility. “That’s an intriguing theory. Morbid, but intriguing.”
“And not without precedent where the Court of Owls is concerned,” Batman said. “The very cells of the Talons are suffused with electrum, thanks to chemical treatments devised by geniuses like Percy Wright. It lingers in their bodies no matter how long they’re ‘dead,’ which is why the Court is able to resurrect them as needed. Percy’s elixir might still exist in Lydia’s remains in much the same way, waiting to be harvested.”
“Ugh, that’s horrible,” Joanna said. “Lydia suffered enough. Why can’t they just leave her in peace?”
“If only,” Batgirl replied. “But hang on, I’m getting confused here. If Lydia burned up like the other test subjects, doesn’t that mean that Percy didn’t fix his elixir? Or is that not how she died?”
“I suspect not,” Batman said. “We’ll know more once we discover what secrets this coffin is hiding.” Again he considered the inscription. The analogy to Cassandra seemed clear enough, but perhaps they needed to look deeper than that. The myth was an elaborate one. What else might Percy have been alluding to?
“Cassandra warned that Troy would burn to the ground. Percy raved about an inferno awaiting Gotham. What exactly is he trying to tell us here?”
“Let’s crack this casket open and find out,” Batgirl said eagerly.
“Not so fast,” Batman cautioned. “We’ve already dealt with one booby trap. There could be more.”
“Right,” Batgirl said, backing off. “I’m just anxious to find out if the formula is really in there.”
“Agreed.” Batman inspected the narrow seam between the lid and the casket. A metal latch was built into one end of the sarcophagus, artfully embedded in Lydia’s bronze tresses. Then he noticed something surprising. “It appears to be entirely airtight.”
“To protect the contents from the elements?” Batgirl suggested.
Batman shook his head. “It was already encased in thousands of pounds of marble.” Warning bells sounded in his brain. “Percy was a chemist. There had to be a reason he hermetically sealed the casket.” He stepped away from the airtight sarcophagus. “Yes, this is a trap of some sort.” One last booby trap to deter grave robbers? Or some final trick on Percy’s part?
“We can’t open it here,” Batman said. “We have to do this elsewhere, under controlled conditions.” The logistics of transporting the sarcophagus to the Batcave would be daunting, but there was nothing to be done about it. He wasn’t about to break the seal on the casket without taking the proper precautions.
“Talk about frustrating,” Batgirl said, sighing. “So near and yet so far.”
“I know,” Joanna said. “After all of this, I’m dying to find out what’s really inside this casket.”
“Likewise,” a new voice said.
Vincent Wright stepped into view at the entrance to the chamber.
The whoosh of a blade slicing through the air accompanied Vincent’s remark.
Batman deflected the throwing knife with his gauntlet. Behind Vincent, flashlights blazed. He saw a small army of henchmen, and two Talons. They had invaded the burial chamber from the darkened maze beyond, armed to the teeth and looking for trouble. An Owl mask hid Vincent’s face, but there was no mistaking his sardonic tone and cocky body language.
“Things just got complicated,” Batman said in a low voice. He wondered what had brought their foes here. He was certain that he and his companions hadn’t been followed during their trek through the sewers.
Reaching into his belt, he flung a handful of smoke-bombs into the midst of the newcomers. Opaque chemical fumes billowed through the chamber, shielding the three of them from view. The fog would do little to slow the Talons, but at least it would make it harder for Vincent’s gunmen to get a bead on them. Special filters in Batman’s cowl enabled him to keep the enemy in view. Similar lenses, developed by Wayne Industries, afforded Batgirl the same edge.
“Look at the mess you’ve made of this place,” Vincent said, coughing dramatically. Flanked by the Talons, he cautiously picked his way through the smoke and rubble, while his other men stumbled about, afraid to fire their weapons for fear of hitting each other. “As if you didn’t do enough damage the last time you graced these venerable chambers,” he continued. “Came back to finish the job, did you?”
Had Vincent been among the masked sadists who had enjoyed his ordeal? Volcanic rage threatened to ignite in Batman, and he tamped it down in order to keep his wits about him. This was no time to lose control. Retreat wasn’t an option—not if there was a chance that the sarcophagus held the formula. He wasn’t about to let it fall into the hands of Vincent and the other Owls—even if that meant taking down both Talons.
“Batgirl!” he shouted. “Get Joanna to safety.” She had already put what was left of the pedestal between herself, Joanna and the invaders. Vincent’s men stumbled through the smoke and rubble. If the women moved quickly, he could cover their retreat as they escaped via the gap in the floor.
“And leave you on your own?” Batgirl protested. “Against the Talons?”
He understood her reluctance. One Talon was bad enough. Two was going to test him to the limit. Then again, he had never expected this to be easy.
“Won’t be the first time,” he said. “Just do it.”
“Forget it,” Joanna said forcefully. She picked up a chunk of debris to use as a weapon. “I’m not running anymore. I started this, intentionally or not, and I can’t let you keep fighting my battles for me… or let these Owl bastards exploit Lydia again. I owe her that much.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Batman said. Now was not the time. This hunt for Percy’s lost elixir had claimed too many lives. “Be smart and get away from here. You’ll only get in my way.” As he spoke he flung a Batarang at the modern Talon—the one he’d fought before—but the assassin batted it aside with the back of his hand.
His reflexes were that fast.
“Go, stay—it doesn’t matter anymore.” Vincent let the Talons take the lead as they advanced toward the tomb. “You don’t matter anymore, Joanna, except as a loose end to be disposed of at some point. You’re expendable.”
“I’ll find you wherever you run, college girl,” the Talon promised. An empty sheath on his bandolier made clear the source of the knife.
Not if I have anything to say about it, Batman thought, although the window of opportunity was shrinking fast. Firing a Batrope upward, so the grapnel embedded itself in the ceiling, he swung into battle. Launching himself in a broad swing, he collided with the modern Talon, knocking the other man backward. As he did so the second Talon came at Batman from behind, wielding an upraised knife. Vincent fell back, letting the Court’s infamous assassins do its dir
ty work.
“So you’re the celebrated Bat-Man of Gotham,” the other Talon remarked. His archaic outfit, complete with oiled leather and brass fittings, dated him back to the First World War era. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself, so I gather, but you’ve never faced me before.”
He brought the knife down toward Batman’s back, but an elbow to his gut foiled the attack, causing the Talon to double over in pain. The knife fell short of its target. Before Batman could seize the moment, however, the modern Talon was back in the fight. They traded punches while the vintage Talon recovered.
Batman had only a few moments, tops, before both opponents moved in for the kill. For a brief instant, he flashed back to his life-or-death struggle with another Talon in this very place.
At least this time I’m not starved or drugged.
I can work with that.
His fist collided with the modern Talon’s face.
* * *
“You heard him,” Batgirl said to Joanna. “We need to get you out of here.”
They crouched behind the truncated pedestal, which provided only limited protection. Batgirl gave the young woman a collapsible gas mask from her arsenal, then tugged on Joanna’s arm, but the other woman resisted her.
“No.” Joanna shook her head stubbornly. “No more running. I can’t spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder—or blaming myself for whatever happens next. I’m not going anywhere until this is over, one way or another.”
Batgirl heard the conviction in Joanna’s voice. There was clearly no arguing with her.
“Okay then,” she said, accepting the other woman’s decision. She couldn’t tussle with Joanna and take on the foot soldiers—not at the same time. And to be honest, she hated the idea of running out on Batman, even if that was what he wanted. It was always possible that he could manage this fight on his own—just because he was Batman—but he could certainly use some help at the moment. Drawing a compact high-voltage stun gun from a pouch on her belt, she handed it to Joanna.
“Take this, but stay smart and don’t take any unnecessary chances. You just make contact and hit the switch. The charge is non-lethal, but it’ll hurt like hell,” she said. “Batman was right. We don’t need you becoming a hostage or a liability.”
Joanna nodded. “What’s our plan?”
“You guard Lydia’s tomb,” Batgirl said. “I’m going to take out the small fry… for starters.”
As the smoke began to dissipate, drifting along the air currents into side corridors, Vincent’s men organized themselves and began fanning out across the burial chamber. Located as it was at the center of the room, the tomb was indefensible in the long term, unless Batgirl could cut down the number of hostiles while there was still a chance to do so. She was a big believer in taking out the bad guys before they knew what hit them.
“Watch yourself,” she said, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake by leaving Joanna’s side—but there didn’t seem to be any better options. Pulling some smoke-bombs of her own, she renewed the smoke screen while tossing in a couple of flash-bang grenades for good measure. Blinding bursts of light, accompanied by deafening blares, threw the men off-balance, just the way Batgirl wanted them.
Ready or not, here I come.
Batgirl preferred to approach every fight like a chess match. It was all about keeping track of where all the pieces were, making strategic moves, and taking out your opponents one by one as swiftly and methodically as possible.
Springing from the pedestal, she sprinted across the largest remaining portion of the shattered Great Owl, her insulated boots making little sound as she leapt over gaping fissures caused by the crash. Sweeping the room with a glance, she took inventory of Vincent’s pawns and their shifting positions, counting on the smoke to grant her an element of surprise.
She spotted an unwary thug directly below her, hugging the side of the Great Owl’s massive trunk. He had one hand against the wreckage to orient himself as he trod cautiously through the swirling fumes. In the other one he gripped a handgun, which he waved back and forth in front of his eyes, trying to fan the smoke away. He peered into the fog, looking everywhere but up.
Big mistake.
Jumping from atop the demolished Owl, she landed feet-first on the unsuspecting minion. The soles of her boots slammed into his upper back, planting his face into the hard marble floor with a satisfying smack. Startled, another pawn turned toward the commotion and was greeted by a hard right hook to his jaw. Lead shot sewn into the knuckles of her gloves added pow to her punch, even as she targeted yet another man a few yards away.
While the second hood was still reeling from her punch she pulled a non-edged Batarang from her arsenal and pitched it into the back of the third man’s skull, knocking him senseless. A high kick to Glass Jaw’s chin dropped him for the duration.
Three pawns in four moves, Batgirl mused. Not a bad start, but the match was far from over. Some trigger-happy idiot opened fire in her direction, endangering his own comrades as well. Bullets chipped away at the toppled statue, barely missing the first goon she’d slammed into the floor, who was stupidly trying to get back on his feet. Batgirl threw out her cape to shield him from the gunfire before decking him with an uppercut. He crumpled to the ground, where he was better off.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Now stay down.”
A Batarang to the wrist disarmed the shooter, but that didn’t stop Vincent Wright from shouting frantically at his men.
“Stop shooting blindly, you fools!” he screeched. “You want to kill me by mistake?” His voice reminded her that while she was trying to clear the pawns from the board, Batman was still pitted against the Court’s knights. Between the smoke and the heaping piles of rubble, she couldn’t see how he was faring against the Talons, but she was all too aware that her fight was simply a sideshow. The real battle was being fought nearby.
“Over there!” a hoodlum shouted, glimpsing her through the fog. “Get her!”
Not exactly a ninja, he bellowed as he charged at her from behind, his feet stomping across the floor. A second goon answered his call, running toward her. He was a big bruiser, nearly twice her size. Clenched fists and a beet-red face signaled his intentions.
“You should have stayed in your cave, Bat-Bitch!” he bellowed. “I’m going to mess you up!” His words bounced off her like bullets off Superman—she’d heard worse from worse. Instead her eyes zeroed in on the gaping hole in the floor a few feet behind him. She calculated angles and trajectories. Maybe not chess then, but pool or billiards…
“Got you now!” he yelled. “Say your prayers, you—hey!”
The guy behind her tried to tackle her, but she easily evaded the lunge and, taking hold of his belt and collar turned his own momentum against him. She hurled him straight into the oncoming thug, who was bowled over by the collision. Both men tumbled backward into the hole, splashing into the sewers below. She lobbed another flash-bang into the gap, just because. Two balls, corner pocket.
Then she heard more goons shouting and stomping through the smoke. Somebody tripped over a chunk of debris and swore profusely. A baseball bat came swinging at her head, and she had to bend backward like a limbo dancer to avoid a concussion. A knee to the batter’s groin distracted him long enough for her straighten up and ram her armored cowl into his face. That was another pawn down, but she frowned anyway.
This was taking too long. Batman needed her help against the Talons.
And so did Joanna.
Violence surrounded Joanna. She heard angry shouts and blows and gunshots as she guarded Lydia’s tomb, circling the sundered pedestal in a futile attempt to keep it between her and the brutal battles being waged throughout the burial chamber.
Drifting smokescreens obscured her view, adding to her anxiety. Maybe the invaders couldn’t see her, but she was also having trouble watching out for them. At least the gas mask kept her from gagging. She gripped the weapon Batgirl had given her, while holding onto a brick-sized
marble fragment as well. She couldn’t imagine either weapon stopping a Talon, but they were better than nothing. Maybe.
A shotgun didn’t save Dennis…
Part of her wished she had listened to Batman and let Batgirl get her out of danger. She had been in danger ever since she’d started probing Lydia’s past, and living in fear since that first night she caught a glimpse of the Talon stalking her. This showdown had been coming for a long time. At least it was finally here.
Someone came splashing through the fetid water of the fountain, moving toward her. A flashlight beam cut through the thinning smoke and she made out a figure striding up onto the pedestal. She raised the brick hesitantly.
“Batman?”
“Sorry, no.” Vincent Wright emerged from the smoke. An Owl mask hid his face, but, after her interrogation in the lab, she’d recognize his smarmy voice anywhere. “I’m afraid he’s occupied with my associates at the moment, so you’ll have to settle for me.”
“Stay back!” She moved to put the pedestal between them. He appeared to be unarmed, but she hadn’t forgotten how he’d threatened her life before. “I’m not going to let you disturb Lydia.”
“Funny you should feel that way,” he said, “since you’re the one who led us to her, thanks to an ingenious subdermal tracking device we injected you with while you were briefly in our custody. At the time it seemed merely a reasonable precaution, just in case we misplaced you again, but it’s paid off more handsomely than I ever imagined.”
Tracking device? Joanna didn’t remember any such injection. Must have been when I was drugged.
“You son of a bitch!” She flung the marble chunk, but her aim was off and Vincent easily dodged it. It splashed down into the puddle. “You’re a disgrace to your family name,” she growled. “Whatever his sins, Percy at least created lasting works of art. You’re just another creepy Gotham psycho!”
“Oh my!” Vincent placed his hand over his heart. “I’d be wounded if I actually cared one whit about your opinion.” He snickered behind his mask. “But, ultimately, you’re just another silly girl who’s in way over her head, no different than the low-class tramp you’re defending.”
