The Edge of a Blade
Chapter 1
By Draco664
Alfred gently placed the tray down on the workbench in front of the massive, three-metre plasma screen and poured the steaming tea deftly through the delicate strainer. He then picked up a pair of silver tongs and gently placed a thin sliver of lemon on top of the piping hot, sweet tea. Taking the saucer, he elegantly placed it in front of his employer.
Bruce Wayne didn't appear to notice, engrossed as he was in his research. He was fully dressed as Batman, with the exception of his cowl, which was hanging from the nape of his neck.
"Tea, Master Bruce?"
"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said absently, not glancing in his butler's direction.
Alfred stood silently for several minutes as Bruce made no attempt to drink the tea, his attention totally focused on the screen in front.
"I suppose I could wait a few more moments, then put some crushed ice in it, if you prefer iced tea, sir."
A small smile graced Bruce's lips. "You are using my mother's favourite china set, the one with the blue chrysanthemum pattern she was given as an anniversary gift by her parents," he said, without taking his eyes from the screen.
"I don't believe you took your eyes off your work, sir."
Bruce continued to look at the screen. "The base of those cups are smooth, making the sound they make on a saucer distinct," he said absently.
Alfred raised his eyebrows. "If you noticed that detail, then you should also know that you have not had anything to drink for several hours. Dehydration does cause a loss of concentration, sir."
Bruce chuckled softly. "I suppose I need to take a break. This makes no sense."
Alfred nodded, and glanced at the screen. "What makes no sense, sir?"
Bruce sipped the tea, holding the delicate bone china cup gently with the tips of his fingers. "An hour ago, something, probably some sort of explosion, shattered the windows of an apartment complex downtown. There are no conventional signs of a bomb; no mechanism was found, no fragments, no accelerant, not even a definitive blast radius. Not only was every pane of glass in the windows shattered, all glass objects within the building were broken too."
He waved at the pictures displayed on the screen. "At first it appeared that there had been an EMP too, since nothing electronic in the building worked correctly. But looking deeper, it doesn't appear to have been the case."
"What leads you to that conclusion?"
"The affected area is too small to start with. But there were other odd events too, even the emergency fire hoses in the building had unravelled and turned themselves on. On the street, every car with an alarm fitted began sounding seconds before the windows shattered. The physics behind an EMP does not suggest that it is possible to engage electronics before shutting them down."
"What of the scrambler you used when that ghastly creature was hunting you?"
"That is both short range and directed, Alfred." Bruce ran a finger over his upper lip. "No, this is something different."
Alfred peered at the map of the affected area currently on one of the screens. "Did the blast come from inside the building, Master Bruce?"
Bruce nodded absently. "There are only two indications that the source of the explosion may have been external. The fact that all the windows shattered simultaneously and the fact that there was no structural damage. Everything else I've examined points to something internal."
"I understand that glass can be broken by sudden changes in temperature, or loud noises at certain frequencies."
"True. Though I've considered and discarded both theories. Even taking into account the fact that Dr. Freeze's technology is still available on the black market for the right price, there is no indication that extreme cold was applied to the outside of the building. Or extreme heat, for that matter. Your second theory is far more probable; except that the glass from the windows and from other shattered items inside the building all have different resonance frequencies. Getting them all to shatter simultaneously using acoustics would be impossible." Bruce sighed deeply. "Besides, no one reported hearing a high pitched noise before it happened. No, this is something different. It may be a combination of factors, but nothing on its own stands out. There weren't even any reported injuries."
"A most puzzling set of circumstances, sir. It would appear that you will need your faculties unburdened by fatigue. Please give me a moment and I shall bring you something significantly stronger than tea."
"Thank you, Alfred."
"You're wrong about one thing," observed a new voice.
Both Bruce and Alfred turned to face one of the screens. An attractive, red-haired woman with a faint, humourless smile stared back at them.
"Oracle. What did you hear?"
"All of it. You'd better drink up, before Alfred mothers you some more."
Bruce's expression darkened. "I meant, what did you hear about injuries?"
Oracle shrugged. "Well, not exactly an injury. Sergeant Bullock found a murder victim during a door to door."
"He's sure it's murder?" Bruce asked, rising to his feet and pulling his cowl over his head, settling it over his eyes.
"There's not much doubt, when the victim's head is found ten feet from the body."
"I'm on my way," said Batman, as moved quickly towards his favoured vehicle.
Alfred sighed as the thunderous sound of a V12 engine filled the massive cave. "He didn't even finish his tea."
Jim Gordon watched as Batman knelt down, carefully avoiding the debris that littered the room. The headless corpse lay in the centre of the room, arms splayed out wide, in a position that would be called face down, if the victim's head was still attached. A sword hilt was clenched in the right fist, the blade sheared off only a dozen centimetres from the guard.
Batman gently touched the fabric of the victim's shirt, then ran his fingertips down one arm.
"Uh, sir? Should he be doing that?"
Gordon turned to face the unfamiliar speaker. "Harrison, right? Just graduated?" he asked, vaguely recalling the faintly worried face. He'd signed on a batch of new officers a few days ago. Given Gotham's dangerous streets, police recruits were almost rarer than crimeless nights.
"Yes, sir!"
"Are you questioning my orders?" Jim asked in an irritated voice.
"Nosir! Notatallsir!" Harrison blurted, his cheeks paling quickly.
Gordon sighed, mentally berating himself for his tone. "The GCPD is under-staffed, under-financed, and under-resourced. In those circumstances, you take full advantage of every asset you have." Gordon turned back to watch his cowled friend. "And be damned thankful for it."
Batman rose to his feet, holding the sword hilt which had been clasped in the victim's fist. He drew a tiny object from his belt, which after a few deft twists, unfolded into a jeweller's magnifying glass. With slow, methodical precision, every millimetre of what remained of the weapon's heavily notched blade was examined in minute detail.
"Where is the rest of the blade?"
Jim cleared his throat. "We're not sure. It hasn't been found."
Batman nodded, and pulled out a pair of tweezers and a pair of tiny plastic envelopes from his belt. With the precision of a watchmaker, he plucked minute slivers of metal from the deep gouges in the shattered blade, and sealed his prizes in the plastic pockets. He returned the tools to a compartment in his belt and then stood and surveyed the scene. "He put up quite a fight, Jim."
Jim frowned and looked around the room too. This part of the apartment was almost totally destroyed. Furniture had been reduced to kindling, plaster walls had man-sized depressions. There was not a single part of the room clear of chaos. Jim had seen many a similar scene before, probably thousands over the years, though up until now it had always indicated that Batman had already been present.
"The neighbours didn't hear an argument, just breaking furniture and a couple of metallic clashes," he offered.
Batman raised the remains of the victim's sword. "There wouldn't have been too many of those. The blade has been sheered off by something both strong and sharp."
"Another sword?"
Batman tilted his head slightly to one side. "If so, it's one I've never seen before."
"What do you mean?"
Batman held out the remains of the victim's sword. "Jim, this is a katana, and not one of the mass-produced replicas either. The kanji characters here indicate it was made by a swordsmith called Ichimondo. This is a blade designed to do the shearing itself. If there is a sword out there that can cut through one of these..."
"What else would it cut through?"
Batman was silent for a long time. "The question would be, what wouldn't it cut through."
It was a particularly cautious figure who silently entered the dark, unlit apartment. Dressed head to foot in black, the slim figure entered the unlit flat through the window, staying in the deep shadows cast by the little street light entering through the dusty panes.
Like a lethal breath of wind, the figure faded in and out of the rooms, until he was certain he was alone.
"Well, Marcus, where have you got to?" he asked the empty home. The figure went back to the window he had entered by, and pulled in a black duffle bag. He then calmly moved over to the main entrance, and turned on the lights. The sudden illumination revealed a single envelope on the table.
The green-eyed man placed the bag on the table, and then opened the envelope, which contained a single folded sheet of paper. The leading face contained a quick, hand-written note.
Damien,
I cannot wait any longer, I have to go.
Here is the information you wanted. Do not ask for any more. I am no longer a Watcher.
M.
Damien smiled in a humourless way. "The snake escapes again. Don't worry, Marcus, I'll catch you."
Damien sat down and unfolded the sheet. It contained a list of names and addresses. He ran one finger down the list, stopping at the address of a recently devastated building. A slow smile spread over his features.
"Well, well, well. Surprisingly, it would appear that your information is valid, Marcus. It would have been irritating to have to chase you down so soon after arriving," he said to himself, before drawing a pair of objects from the black bag.
The broken blade of a katana, and a blood-smeared sword.
Damien set to work cleaning his sword.