"Standby for deployment. The Bat-Sentries are heading your way."
Call it pessimism, but I'm
really starting to hate the sound of those words.
Activating my wrist-mounted hologrid CPU, I link myself up to the Bat-Sentries' mainframe and gain access to the server Lucius is currently running on them to perform the most basic hardware analysis imaginable. It isn't that I don't trust Lucius or Waynetech's capabilities - far from it, actually. But double-checking the thing that's gonna provide your team with initial cover from an untold amount of gunfire, high-density laser blasts, and whatever other kind of ammunition that Two-Face intends to throw at us never hurt anyone, right? I'd think Bruce would agree, even if he doesn't already know I'm doing this. If anyone wrote the book on overcautious to the point of extreme paranoia, well... he'd probably write the better version of that book.
It's been eight months since our team started making the rounds without a Caped Crusader in sight. I'd say we have a backup Batman ready to help us out, but Dick's got his own problems to worry about, and I don't envy him in the slightest. What I do start to wonder is just how long we can keep up this damn charade. Barbara and I have had this talk alot of times since it started, and neither one of us really know what to do. He won't leave the mansion, won't respond to any of our calls outside of our assigned missions, and won't bother to react to much of anything we do or say - but he also won't accept our help whenever we come and visit, refuses to accept anything he deems as charity, or even listen to us whenever we try and coax him into something as simple as getting a little sunlight. He lives off of scraps of food that Alfred put into storage over a year ago. I was amazed to see that he even shaved, the last time I went over there with Cass. And for her sake, I chose not to engage him in some choice words.
The harsh truth of it is, though, is that despite how angry I really am... I'm really just worried about him. Being Batman wasn't just a job to him, it was the dominant part of his entire existence. And I can understand a reprieve after losing Alfred, but he refuses to even acknowledge that he's not acting like himself. He uses his self-appointed position as our field coordinator to justify pretending that everything's fine. And he's yet to explain why, after all this time, he's still allowing the costume to collect dust down in the cave. I don't even think he's been down
there since Alfred died, and that place used to be considered more of a home to him than the Manor.
There's always that popular debate amongst the "in the know" crowd, the guys that are aware of his dual identity - whether it's Bruce Wayne or Batman that's really the man behind it all - but my idea of it is that without one, I genuinely don't think the other can function. And what
really scares me is that he's proven me right.
The moment he gave up Batman, well... he just gave up.
"According to radar, the Sentries are about a block away from you guys now. I'd brace yourselves. Harvey's about to have some serious company."
From my vantage point, I can see Cassandra, Stephanie, and Batwoman all look towards the skies as the familiar hum of jet propulsion begins to grow louder as the machines approach. Even I have to take a glance upward, because it really does get you every time. The visual of it, that feeling of surreal awe coupled with a tinge of excitement, and maybe even a little dread. The feeling I'd imagine a General having every time that he sent his troops into battle, because as strange as it seems to say after all these years...
We have ourselves an army.
As instructed, the four of us hang back and allow the machines to form a triangle-shaped assembly upon touchdown, starting with one in the lead and stretching out to the back. There are twelve robots in total, each operating off of the same set of basic AI commands. It's Lucius' job to make sure that they're all working in tandem and prioritizing potential threats, with a little help from Oracle in the process, but the strategy always seems be able to get them to cooperate a hell of alot better than any group of giant crime-smashing Bat-bots conceivably should. Even I can't imagine how Bruce and the team at Wayne Enterprises managed to pull it off, but I gotta say, I'm always left pretty thoroughly impressed.
"Tim. What's their status?"
I watch as the Bat-Sentries begin a march on the warehouse, eating through the rims of the metal doors with carefully tuned automated industrial torches and ripping it away just as quickly.
"Hell, they're doing just fine to me."
Utilizing my CPU, I hack into the HUD of the lead Sentry and watch the assault from their own POV.
"How's it look inside? I'm too busy rerouting their directives to get a look at their onboard cameras."
From what I can tell, the scans that Barb had us take earlier were on the up-and-up, not that I had any real doubt of that. There's nobody inside the main warehouse, and everything that's possibly taking place here is happening somewhere underground. The Bat-Sentries turn their head downwards, likely pinpointing the source of any disruption that wouldn't be caused by ordinary underground interference.
"Empty, but it looks like the Sentries are about to assume attack formation. I'd say they're clear to engage."
I can hear an all-too familiar hint of frustration behind her voice as she replies.
"I'll pass that information along to Bruce. Not that I imagine he'll have much to say on the matter."
I know, Barbara. Just hang in there. Like Steph told me earlier, we need to remember where our heads are at. There'll be time for drama after we've confiscated the source of Two-Face's arsenal and sent him off for the due process brigaide. Which should be arriving within the next twenty minutes, give or take,if Gordon's managed to stall his men long enough to keep them out of harm's way for what's about to come.
KKK-KLIK!
Wait. What in
god's name...
"Turn around or get turned 'ta mulch."
Freezing in place, eyes widened, I leap to my feet and produce my bo-staff as a natural defensive reflex. For a second, I think that some lucky goon has managed to spot me and that all I'll need to do is take out the minor annoyance. But whenever I get a look at the number of armed men that are standing right there, guns raised, I nearly do a double-take. What the hell?!
"Tim? What was that sound? Tim?!"'
"The boss has some got plans for you, birdy boy. He never said you'd have to be alive for 'em."
I scowl at the group in their entirety.
"Yeah, I'm afraid your boss is gonna have to settle for some unconscious losers."
There's a tense silence between the seconds that pass afterward, but I don't have time to react otherwise. Because before I can even flinch, they've each turned the safeties off and locked their fingers around the triggers. Were it not for my reflexes, I'd almost worry that I'd legitimately stand a chance of being dead in the next few moments. But true to form, I manage to dodge the first round of gunfire before it can hit the ground where I was standing.
BUDA-BUDA-BUDA-BUDA-BUDA-BUDA!
Immediately, I strike out at the first one with a spinning kick to the jaw and take another one down with the staff in one twist. The others try and spin to fire another round at me, but I've already got the smoke pellets ready in my hand before they can see me reach into my belt. In seconds, the goons - who I'm just noticing are all covered in some sort of weird head-to-toe tactical gear, all brandishing the Lexcorp logo - instantaneously find themselves coated in a thick cloud of tear gas. Idiots should've outfitted themselves with some rebreathers to go along with their fancy new Lex Luthor pattoned equipment.
Knowing a fight that I can't win when I see one, I immediately perform a forward roll and dive off of my rooftop, firing a grapnel as I glide over the docks, barely managing to dodge a few stray bullets. There were just too many of them. Had to abandon my post, position's been compromised. A million thoughts are racing through my mind. Firstly, what just happened up there should have been impossible. Oracle's satellites should have detected those men the minute we activated our palm-scanners. Even if they somehow managed to bypass the thermal imaging, there should've been a trace of something within the immediate viscinity. We were all trained by
Batman, for god's sake. You can't just sneak up on people like us.
Secondly, how the hell did Harvey manage to get
that many thugs under his employ? He's been cut off from his usual contacts for months. We've hit his frequented hotspots over a dozen times ever since it became apparent that he was running lose, and always turned up with nothing. Even Cobblepot didn't lend him a helping hand, and The Penguin would give sanctuary to pack of dogs riddled with rabies for the right price. It makes absolutely no sense, given the amount of activity we got from below that's likely to be the men he hired to handle the shipments of his weaponry. He'd have to have a small militia to spare, or something.
Thirdly...
"Guys! Need... ugh, a little help! Got ambushed! There are too many of---ARGH!"
Stephanie?!
Upon landing on the nearest warehouse roof, I make a beeline dash directly for Stephanie's last known position. There must've been a second unit somewhere. Figures, when you think about it, given the way Two-Face's warped psyche works. I swear to God, if any of these clowns have hurt her, I'll rip out Dent's...
KA-CHNK!
KA-CHNK-CHNK-CHNK! KA-CHNK!
Stopping dead in my tracks, fearing that the Bat-Sentry attack has already started too early, I turn to see whatever the hell that noise was. But I'm immediately greeted with a far more horrifying sight instead: From here, I can see Batwoman just barely holding her own against a similar group of outfitted jackboot morons. Just beyond her position, there's the faint outline of Cassandra being attacked by another group. Four groups?! All them waiting for us and prepared for our arrival?! This isn't possible!
"Oracle! It's Red Robin, we've got an immediate situation! I don't know how, but we're being attacked! All of us are being attacked at the same time! I managed to get to safety, but the others... I can't help all three of them! You have to reroute the Bat-Sentries! They're our only chance of defusing this!"
"Hold your position, I'll see what I can do! Give me a second, I'm hacking into..."
There's dead silence on the other end of the line.
"Oracle?!"
"Th-They're offline! All twelve of them are offline!"
My jaw drops as I turn to the warehouse that we were about to lay waste to in order to drag Dent out, kicking and screaming. What I can see from the inside is a pile of immobile Bat-Sentries, somehow having been de-activated from an outside source.
That's what that sound was. They weren't being attacked and they weren't attacking. They were falling over like a stack of cards. The glow radiating off of their chest insignias are completely gone, indicating system failure. Or much worse - a complete and total blackout of their systems. But that'd require a...
"Tim. Talk to me. What's happening?"
I'm too left in shock to say anything for the first couple of seconds.
"I... I have absolutely no idea."
Looking over at my teammates, I try and gauge which one I can go to help first.
But all three of them are in dire straights right now.
If I go to help one, I risk losing the other two.
"But Bruce, we've already lost the Bat-Sentries. And we're losing."
"We're losing badly."
I have no idea what to do...