The Edge of a Blade
Chapter 3
By Draco664
"The GPS indicated that the driver picked up a passenger at the docks, outside pier 34. At that time of night, there isn't a big demand for cabs, so it was fairly easy to pick out the passenger on the CCTVs around the docks and work out where he came from.
"Look here. See the slim man in black? He enters the cab... there. Going back to another camera, it shows him coming from the docks. I ran the facial recog software Oracle provided, and there's a ninety-odd percent chance that he didn't enter the docks from the city today. So that leaves arrival by ship.
"Three cargo ships arrived in Gotham harbour within six hours of the time the man got into the cab, the tanker Aurora, the Alysis II and the super-tanker Menindez. The Aurora docked at pier 12, and there are two other taxi ranks closer to her than the one where our driver waited. The other two ships docked close enough to pier 34 that I ran a check on them both.
"First, crew logs. The Alysis II has a crew of twelve, all accounted for. The Menindez has a crew of four, also all accounted for. A dead end.
"Second, departure port. The Alysis II came from London, with no stops on the way. The Menindez stopped at several ports along the eastern South American coast. If our target used a poison from down there, odds are that he'd have to have either been there recently or had someone collect it for him.
"Third, I checked the cargo and manifest details. It all checked out for both, though the Menindez is still under quarantine. It turns out that Customs and NIS were tipped off to an illegal on board.
"So in all probability, our mystery man arrived on the Menindez and jumped ship before NIS were in place. The timing is a little tight, but it would be possible for someone skilled in evasion to escape the ship as it was being docked and make his way to the taxi rank without running or attracting attention."
Tim took a deep breath and looked over at Batman, who was staring at the screen with interest. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes before continuing. "I dug a little deeper on the history of Menindez. The crew is unchanged for the last seven voyages, including three which follow the last route. I managed to crack the shipping company's computers, and downloaded all the documents on the cargos, owners, even the supply lists." Tim grinned at his mentor. "Believe it or not, it was those lists that convinced me that our man was aboard that ship. About a quarter more food and water was consumed on this voyage than the last."
Batman gave Tim a small smile and a nod. His way of saying 'Good job, Tim'.
Tim returned the smile, wishing not for the first time that his mentor could actually say the words. "That's not all. I followed him in the cab too. Here."
Another screen flickered to life, and showed the progress of the ill-fated taxi through Gotham's streets. It made a bee-line through the centre of the city, before stopping outside an apartment building.
"The deceleration was quite violent. I'd guess the driver wasn't expecting to stop here. He stopped almost a block away from the building that blew up. Maybe ten minutes later, electronics in the area go all screwy. Including the GPS on the taxi," Tim finished with a wince.
Batman frowned slightly. "No readings were recorded?"
"They were, but they're unusable. Over the course of thirty seconds, the taxi was put in the middle of the Atlantic, in Australia, twice in Siberia, forty miles off the coast of Hawaii and once in Antarctica. And that was when the unit wasn't spitting out error codes like crazy."
Batman rubbed his exposed chin thoughtfully, his short whiskers making it sound like rubbing sandpaper. "Did you get readings afterwards?"
Tim nodded. "Yes, but they were consistently off by thirteen degrees of longitude and twenty-seven degrees of latitude. The unit needs to be recalibrated. But I could work backwards to find out where the taxi went, and found security footage along the route to confirm."
"Good. And?"
"Our man got out at this apartment building a few blocks away. At least, that's what I'm assuming; there aren't any CCTV streams I could crack into to confirm it. At any rate, the taxi stopped there for a couple of minutes, and then drove to a nearby rank where it stayed until the driver was found dead an hour later."
Batman nodded slowly. "So he arrived on the Menindez, jumped ship, caught a cab and drove towards the second location. He stopped on the way, suddenly it seems, at the exact place and time where some sort of device sabotaged all the electrical equipment in the area, and then returned to the cab and resumed his journey. Meanwhile, a man with healing capabilities that are unheard of is decapitated. I'd say we have a suspect for his murder."
Tim raised an eyebrow. "So you do think it was murder now?"
Batman shrugged. "The police are treating it as a homicide. I have a feeling that if we find the who, we'll discover the how. Opposite to my usual method of solving crimes, but in this case, it may be the only way that will work.
Tim stood. "Right. I'm off home. Cass is staking out the building, setting up some surveillance kit. I got a reasonable side view of the suspect, and a good shot of his clothes, if you want to give the police a description."
Batman shook his head. "Not just yet. Let's see what we can discover on our own."
Benjamin 'Fitz' Fitzroy stepped further back into the shadows of the covered alleyway. Like all creatures who come into a dangerous situation, muggers had evolved in Gotham. Those who practised their trade in an area where their actions were exposed to the heavens soon became too injured to continue their work.
Those who attacked from covered hiding spaces had a far greater life expectancy.
After a few moments, Fitz again stuck his head out of the shadows to track his quarry. The slim figure had not made much progress along the street, he appeared to be examining his surroundings in great detail. He even appeared to be making notes.
Fitz again drew back and checked his gun was loaded.
Damien steadily examined his surroundings, moving casually along the sidewalk. He stopped frequently, making notes in a worn notepad.
Since setting up a temporary base of operations in the apartment vacated by the hapless Marcus, Damien had been studying and documenting the building's surrounds. He had noted every building, fire escape and alleyway within a three block radius of his base.
Hiding a smirk, he wondered just how long he could keep the man he spotted in the alley ahead waiting.
Apparently not too long. The scruffily dressed young man didn't have the patience to wait.
"Hey buddy? Got a quarter?" he asked, coming out of the protective camouflage of the alleyway.
Damien turned to face the speaker. "No change," he said softly.
The thug whipped out a pistol. "Then gimme wha'cha got!"
A slow smile spread over Damien's face. He dropped his notepad and pen, then raised his hands slowly to shoulder height. With agonising slowness, he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a money clip with a thick brace of folded hundred dollar notes. "This?"
The mugger's eyes widened. "Hand it over!" he almost gasped, holding out his free hand.
Damien nodded, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the wad of money in a high arc towards the mugger.
Fitz's eyes left his mark, greedily following the money as it arced towards him. He didn't notice the fist connecting with the point of his jaw.
His finger squeezed the trigger in reflex, but it was far too late. As his eyes rolled back into his head, the last thing he heard was the report of his shot. He didn't feel either of the two heavy blows that struck him after the first; the fist rupturing his spleen and then foot shattering his skull.
It was the late Benjamin Fitzroy whose corpse came to a crumpled halt in the dingy alleyway.
Damien reached out and caught his money clip as it fell towards the concrete. As the surge of adrenaline faded, a numb sensation in his left arm drew his attention. Looking down, he noticed the small, but rapidly expanding, blood stain on the sleeve of his coat over his left forearm.
He quickly rolled back the material, noting absently that the bullet had passed straight through his arm, between the ulna and the radius. Momentarily, blue tendrils of arcing light flashed over the wound, closing it. Seconds later, more light sealed the skin, then washed away the slight scar left behind.
Damien opened and closed the fingers on his left hand, feeling the newly healed muscles in his arm stretch and flex. He always felt a little stiff after his Quickening healed him, and over the centuries it had quickly become habit to stretch any healed wounds as soon as possible.
He debated searching the body of his mugger for anything interesting or valuable, but shrugged and moved on. No doubt the authorities in this rat-infested city would find the remains sooner rather than later.
Damien walked over to his discarded notebook and picked it and the pen up. He resumed his task of cataloguing the area.
Once he was done, all that left was an examination of the surrounding rooftops.
Batgirl deftly screwed a tiny camera to its stand, already set up and disguised within the crevices of a large stone gargoyle. She set the adjusted the line of sight, and checked the image on a palm-sized plasma screen. The tiny camera's lens twisted and turned on itself briefly, sharpening the image automatically.
All this was done while the teenager was hanging upside down from a single mono-filament cable, twisting and turning slightly in the soft breeze.
Batgirl nodded in satisfaction at a difficult job done well. Nearly all the entrances and exits to the building Robin indicated were covered. She just had to set the last camera into place and check its battery and transmitter. Robin would have pictures of all this building's residents within a day or so. She sent a double click over her own radio, informing Oracle of the completion of the current task. A soft blue LED lit up, telling Batgirl that her disabled mentor now had control of the camera.
She then silently climbed up and over the roof's edge, as another figure arrived, just as silently.
Damien and Batgirl spotted each other and froze at the same instant.
The costumed teen waited to see what the new arrival would do. It was not illegal to be on the top of a building, but she could not allow this man to interfere with her work.
Damien drifted his gaze over the equipment out on display. The cameras, the transmitters, the sophisticated electronics. He kept his expression neutral, despite the horror he felt. It had been less than two days since his arrival, and already one of the masked vigilantes this city spawned was staking out the building he was staying in.
Damien had expected that he would eventually attract the attention of the legendary Batman. In fact, he had been counting on it. But not yet! This was too soon.
The unique blade he kept hidden beneath his long coat gleamed in the neon lights of the surrounding skyscrapers.
Batgirl stood still as the red haired man looked over the equipment she was setting up. When dressed in the Mantle of the Bat, most bystanders left her alone. More than once this same situation had played itself out with the intruder apologising profusely while making a hasty exit.
From this man's subtle body language, she knew this encounter would not likely end without violence.
He drew a sword from under his coat and assumed a ready stance which screamed to anyone who could read someone like Cassandra, that this was a very dangerous man.
Both figures blurred and struck. Both figures narrowly evaded the other's strike.
Both learned a great deal more about the other from that single opening gambit.
Batgirl struck out at the man's jaw, knowing that he had the skill to evade. As expected he rocked back just enough that her fist passed harmlessly past his lips, close enough that he could have puckered his lips and kissed her hand.
She flashed her feet into a different stance, and aimed a strike at the man's newly exposed ribs.
Her hand sped through a tight arc, only to be deflected when the man smashed the sword's pommel down on her fist. The man had managed to bring down his guard on her hand as he twisted and spun. The blade of the sword streaked down in an improvised and inelegant attack, slashing at Batgirl's leg. Though slightly off balance, she kicked out at her attacker's abdomen, more to get her leg out of danger than in any real effort to attack.
The man, accepted the weakened blow, folding his body over her leg, capturing her foot. Batgirl leapt with her free leg, and twisted in midair, swinging her free foot around at head height in a kick that would knock most men unconscious.
Damien grabbed the girl's foot as it struck his abdomen, and bent over it, ensuring she could not draw it back. As expected, she leapt and twisted, leaning against him to throw a powerful kick at his head.
Damien lifted her captured leg, disrupting the kick and allowing him to stab down with his sword as her body succumbed to gravity.
Somehow, she managed to contort herself so that the blade only scraped along her upper arm. In her current position, an experienced fighter could strike out with a free foot at his knee. If she connected correctly, he would be at a severe disadvantage until his body could heal itself.
Damien let go and took a half step back, allowing his young opponent to regain her footing.
Again, the pair examined each other, evaluating and calculating.
Batgirl swallowed. She knew she was facing a very dangerous opponent. In the few seconds they had fought, he had used three distinct styles of fighting, and it would be suicide to assume that he was not a master of many more.
There was one major difference. Young, but inexperienced warriors used strength and power to amplify their attacks. Older, but extraordinarily experienced warriors used guile and cunning, usually more than making up for their lack of strength.
This man was in his physical prime, but was using the same stealth and precise techniques as a ninety-year-old master. Experience, cunning and guile combined with youth and power.
She felt a trickle of blood down her arm. That sword was sharp!
Damien swallowed. The myths and legends that came from this place told of men and women dressed as bats who were impossible to defeat in battle. Like most unconfirmed tales, Damien refused to take them at face value, and only formed his own opinion once he had direct experience.
For the first time in his long life, he was beginning to think that reality may be beyond the myths.
This little mortal girl was reading him better than any immortal opponent ever had, anticipating his moves and attacks as he made them. His only successful strike so far had been a spur of the moment thing. It had been a long time since he had relied on such a desperate attack just to score first blood.
This girl, no, this warrior was good. Damien shifted his grip on his sword. Perhaps a slightly different technique was required here.
Over the next several minutes, Batgirl struck out again and again, each attack being turned easily. The red haired man had changed his methodology, preferring to concentrate simply on defence, only occasionally responding with a riposte.
It wasn't the first time that someone fighting Batgirl had swapped from offensive to defensive after the first few exchanges, but this man had something on his mind. Some plan he would bring to bear when she could least defend against it. The fact that she could not read what he intended was more than a little disturbing.
He leapt over a sweep kick, and ducked a knife hand strike to his temple. As she expected, he flicked out with his blade at her neck, which she casually evaded.
Batgirl took a half step back and thought deeply. Half the attacks she had made had been pulled because of the sword the man wielded so expertly. She had tried over a dozen methods of disarming an opponent, yet had been foiled each and every time.
Absently, she noted that her cloak was hanging a little oddly. She ran her fingers quickly over the seam, noting that the edge of the sword had cleanly sliced through the material.
With a quick rip, she tore the cape from her costume, and hefted it in her hand.
Damien watched as she ripped off the cape, realising what she intended as she struck.
With blindingly quick hands, the masked vigilante impaled the material on his sword, and with a twisting flick, wrapped the remains of her cape tightly around the blade.
Normally, that would not have been a problem. Damien had fought three opponents in recent years who had used that exact tactic. Simply jerking the sword towards him shreaded whatever was holding it. His new sword was easily sharp enough to cut through any normal material.
He was not fighting an average opponent, nor was the cape made of normal material.
As Damien tried to pull the sword towards him in an effort to cut through the cape, Batgirl ducked, spun and lashed out with both her feet, one connecting with Damien's wrist and the other with his fingers.
The involuntary loosening of his grip gave Batgirl all the opportunity she needed to tug the weapon from his grasp. Sword and cape flew over the edge of the building, falling four stories to the concrete alleyway below.
If she had expected to have an easier time, she was sorely mistaken. The red haired man almost threw himself at her, hurling four or five attacks a second at her from different angles. Batgirl was forced on the defensive, but after a few seconds of struggling to find her centre, she found herself within her comfort zone. His strikes were precise and powerful, but it was tiring to keep this level of offensive attacks up. He would tire, and she would finish the fight.
Damien struck again and again, at her legs, her head, her ribs, her abdomen. His understanding of his opponent grew, and he knew how to defeat her.
He allowed her to settle into a comfortable routine of defense, before setting up a pattern of attacks which left an opening small enough to be considered unexploitable by most, but well within this woman's capabilities to use.
She took it the first time, shattering his left collarbone with a hammer-strike through the flaw in his defenses. Gasping with shock at the sudden pain, Damien drew back and switched to defense as his opponent assumed the role of attacker.
Now, it was up to his Quickening to give him the advantage.
Batgirl's eyes widened beneath her mask as her fist struck home. Instantly, the man stopped his assault and drew back, gauging the severity of the wound.
She attacked with renewed ferocity, determined to end this contest as soon as possible. With her attacker's left side now disabled, she could focus on different methods of attack, without expending as much concentration on defense. After all, the man's injury would take several weeks to heal properly.
He stepped back slowly, grudgingly giving ground, now using his legs for both defense and attack. He cradled his injured arm close to his stomach, making it an enticing target. Twice Batgirl landed a solid kick on the man's arm, sending a disconcerting level of pain through his injured shoulder.
He blinked, and his arm dropped away from his torso. Batgirl leapt at the opportunity, lashing out with her right foot. Through the thick sole of her boot she felt some of the man's ribs snap. Not waiting for another opportunity, she then drove her own left fist at the man's injured shoulder again.
The shock of seeing the man's left arm flash forward as though uninjured to snatch her wrist in an aikido grip only lasted one tenth of a second.
That was enough time, however, for him to drive his right fist into the side of her head, just behind her ear.
It was one of the most satisfying blows Damien had ever landed.
The costumed girl crumpled quickly to the rooftop, rolling to a stop a few feet away. Damien took a deep breath, grunting at the pain in his side. Her kick had been more powerful than anticipated. Any stronger, and he may not have had the ability to end the fight so easily.
Another gasp caused him to turn around in a crouch.
Another damned masked vigilante crouched on the edge of the roof, her purple robes almost black in the dim light.
Damien had no intention of facing another of Batman's posse of warriors; especially if the newcomer was anywhere near as good as the one he had just defeated. He had no first hand knowledge of how this one fought, and he was unarmed and, temporarily, injured.
Damien turned and began to run to the opposite edge of the building. The edge where his unconscious opponent had sent his sword. Despite the pain in his side, he took a deep breath, and leapt.