Fic: Under the Radar (Crossover: Batman/Daredevil)
Fandom: Batman/Daredevil Crossover
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson
Words: 3552
Summary: When Bruce Wayne finds himself in a bit of legal trouble in New York, he discovers that good attorneys are easy to find, but hard to keep in the dark-even when they're blind!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Drama
Warnings: None
Timeline: Daredevil near the end of Volume 1. Batman post-Knightsend, pre-No Man's Land.
Prologue
Thanks to Kathy and Debbie for the beta!
Chapter 1
At first, Batman thought that his earlier musings about culprits returning to the scene of the crime had been accurate, but on a closer look, he recognized his error. The hacker, as he'd told Dick, had been about his height and build. This intruder was slimmer and lithe instead of muscular. Did the hacker have an accomplice? Whoever was inside, they were wearing something tight and form-fitting, though it was too dark to make out more than that. They also weren't using a flashlight or any other form of illumination.
"Enable night vision lenses," he said softly. In response to his voice command, there was a soft tone. A moment later, the lenses of his cowl shifted to green and he heard a low-pitched whine as the shapes and contours of the room before him came into clearer focus.
Beneath his mask, Batman's eyes narrowed. The intruder was wearing a cowled suit, much like his own, minus a cape. There was some sort of weapon in a holster strapped to his thigh. Sprouting from the cowl were two small devil horns. Batman's face set in an angry scowl. New York was lousy with costumes, both of the crime-fighting and the criminal variety-which begged the question: which one was this?
Ally or enemy, who knew what sort of mess they might make of the crime scene? He had to get inside before there was nothing left for him to find. He thought for a moment. Baron and Baron was in an older building; one where the windows could actually be opened. There were three of them opening into the office he needed to access. Batman swung lightly to the next window sill-the one that would give him the clearest path to the door, should he need access to the rest of the building. Then, from a compartment in his utility belt, he extracted a small set of burglar's tools and set to work. It might be thirty-one floors up, but the windows were still wired and Batman had no intention of tripping any alarms tonight.
It took Daredevil a moment to place the heartbeat. It wasn't one he was overly familiar with and the window glass muffled it slightly, but then, he'd encountered it only a few hours earlier and it was still relatively fresh in his mind. Beneath his cowl, his eyebrows lifted. You are just full of surprises, Mr. Wayne, he thought to himself. A moment later, he registered two more sounds: the whine of night vision goggles and the clean snap of copper wire parting between tungsten-carbide shears. While the whine didn't diminish, it was soon complemented by the nails-on-a-chalkboard effect of steel on glass. After taking out the burglar alarm, Wayne was using a glass cutter on the window pane.
He frowned. Whatever Wayne was wearing tonight, it wasn't the attire he'd worn at their earlier appointment. A cloak-or perhaps, a cape-flowed behind him, obscuring the contours of his body. There were two protuberances rising from his head and tapering to points. His frown deepened. He'd never been to Gotham City before. He'd heard of some of the people who operated there on either side of the law, but he had no idea who he was facing tonight. News stories often emphasized visual description, when they didn't rely on photos and video to enhance the coverage-and phrases like "wearing a purple suit" or "trailing a jet-black cape" were worse than useless to him.
Daredevil sighed. Until he knew whether he was facing a friend or a foe, he didn't want to engage. That didn't mean that he was about to withdraw until he knew what Wayne was after. He heard the faint scrape as a piece of glass came free of the window-Wayne must have had a suction cup on it, for it didn't fall-and felt the night breeze come through the hole it left behind. A moment later came the click of a latch and the creak as the window eased open.
He waited until Wayne entered through the open window. Then, in one quick stride, Daredevil moved to the opposite wall... and flicked on the lights.
Almost instantly, he was rewarded by an angry snarl, as Wayne reeled back, his arm over his eyes. Night-vision goggles had one very-easy-to-exploit vulnerability. Daredevil pulled his billy-club out of its holster. "You're a long way from Gotham," he said evenly. "Care to explain?"
He heard something whistle through the air and dodged on instinct as a small object flew past him and embedded in the wall. "I'll take that as a 'no,'" he said, holding onto one part of the club and hurling the other. Airline cable extended between the two pieces and streaked toward his adversary's legs, but the caped figure leaped upward and out of the club's trajectory.
"I suppose you're here to cover your tracks," Wayne intoned, as he flipped to a landing several feet away from him. His voice was harsh and gravelly. Had he not been positive of the identity of the man before him, Daredevil doubted that he would have connected the voice he was hearing now with that of the man who'd been in his office earlier. Pheromones and heartbeat didn't lie, though.
"Funny," Daredevil shot back, as he reeled club and cable back in, "I was just thinking the same thing about you."
Wayne stood there silently, as though expecting his mere presence to be intimidating. Daredevil sighed. "I don't suppose we can talk this over?"
"I have no quarrel with you," Wayne replied. "Just stay out of this." He moved toward the computer station.
"Sorry," Daredevil said, touching the control on the billy-club to separate the two halves and retract the cable. "Not happening." He advanced slowly. It wasn't lost on him that Wayne's attacks were aimed more to warn him off than actually hurt him. While he appreciated the thought, there was no way that he was letting the man get anywhere near that computer.
"Have it your way," Wayne replied. Quick as a cat, his hand shot out and grabbed one of the club-halves.
Without missing a beat, Daredevil smashed the other one down over the caped man's knuckles. There was a harsh hiss of pain.
Wayne released the club, dropped, and swept a kick toward Daredevil's legs. Daredevil flipped out of range, then surged forward again, clubs ready for battle. This time, Batman feinted and countered with a pressure point strike. Daredevil winced as his right arm went numb. Fortunately, he smiled, he was left-handed. He thumbed the button to release the cable, gripped its end, and whipped the weighted club toward Wayne's torso. Wayne dodged. The club kept going. An instant later, the sound of shattering glass filled the air-followed almost immediately by a security alarm.
Both men swore. Then Wayne shoved him hard in his left shoulder and took off through the empty window frame.
Daredevil stumbled, recovered his footing, and followed quickly, casting his club into the night and snagging a nearby flagpole. From there, he swung himself up to a nearby rooftop. He listened intently and frowned. There was too much noise, too many people, and with the office alarm still ringing in his ears, he couldn't detect Wayne's heartbeat anymore. He sighed. So far, this wasn't turning out to be one of his better nights.
Across the street, the alarm shut off and Daredevil relaxed for a moment. Then he realized that he was still hearing another sound, very close by, and just a touch softer than a heartbeat; a kind of intermittent beeping. His jaw hardened. He spent the next few minutes listening to see if he could find Wayne's heartbeat once more, even as he tried to tune out the beeping. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, but was probably more like about five minutes, the effect the nerve strike wore off and he brought his right hand to his left shoulder to remove the tracer that his adversary had tagged him with before leaping out the window.
"Nice try, Mr. Wayne," he said under his breath as he ground the device beneath his boot heel, "but no cigar."
Dick had just gotten back from meeting with Donna when Bruce returned to the hotel room. "Uh-oh," he said, taking in his mentor's demeanor at a glance. "I take it tonight did not go well."
Bruce stalked over to the twin bed nearest the window and sat down, a disgusted look on his face. "You've spent more time in this city than I have. What do you know about Daredevil?"
Dick blinked. "Well, it's not like we've worked together; more like waved to one another when we happen to pass by. He's good, though," he continued seriously. "In both senses of the word. Martial arts, boxing, and acrobatics; not to mention those billy-clubs. Not too big on gadgets and no apparent meta powers. Oh, and left-handed. Why?"
Bruce sucked in air and let it out. "He was there tonight. At Baron and Baron. We... had an altercation."
"Oh?"
Bruce sighed. "The office was dark. I saw him moving around and assumed that it was either the hacker or an accomplice." Briefly, he related what had happened. "Of course, I'd reviewed the files on known Capes operating in this city-on both sides of the law-before coming here, but the costumed population in Manhattan alone is over 700 percent of Gotham's and having a photographic memory means that I remember all the data I read. It doesn't mean that I can necessarily retrieve that data in a split second." He shook his head. "Initially, it was too dark to identify the costume. Then, after he pulled that stunt with the lights, I wasn't seeing much besides spots. It wasn't until I got out of there and plugged his details into the Batmobile's computer that I realized who I'd encountered. I lost the tracer's signal a few minutes later." He made a face. "If he hadn't been wearing a devil costume, I might have realized sooner that we were on the same side."
"Says the guy who dresses like a bat."
Bruce's lips twitched. "Point."
"I wonder what he was doing at Baron and Baron," Dick remarked. "I can see how, in light of what happened today, they might have wanted to bring in extra security, but Daredevil's not exactly part of Heroes for Hire."
"He might have some connection with the firm," Bruce said thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, his voice did sound a bit familiar. He could well have been at the meet-and-greet I attended yesterday morning, before I slipped off." A faint smile came and went as he continued talking. "I know this much: if someone had broken into my company, I'd certainly do my own investigation later that night, when things were quieter." He nodded again. "I believe that I'll have Oracle run a check on the Baron family; she may turn something up."
"Uh huh. Wait." Dick frowned. "You said Daredevil wasn't using a flashlight. Did he have night-vision lenses, too?"
"He must have," Bruce said wearily. "He could have turned them off just before he hit the lights... No," he sat up straighter. "Wait. Even if he had, his eyes should have still needed time to adjust, but he didn't hesitate for a moment." He thought for a moment. "If his lenses can compensate automatically for sudden changes in illumination... That might explain it." He exhaled softly. "Something of that nature would be extremely beneficial," he mused. "I wonder if there's a patent out."
"Now, why do I think that Waynetech's R&D department is going to get some new instructions?" Dick grinned.
"It's a useful invention," Bruce pointed out. "I'm sure you can see the applications for the military, as well as law enforcement, security..."
"Showing up Stark Industries?"
Bruce assumed a self-righteous expression. "That was the farthest thing from my mind," he snorted. At Dick's raised eyebrows, he added under his breath, "And it would have been even farther from it if they hadn't secured the last four government contracts that Waynetech competed for."
Dick grinned. "Thought so!"
Matt was in the office early the next morning. Although his fingers moved rapidly over the Braille transcripts, had someone interrupted him, he would have been hard-put to explain exactly what he was reading. He listened impatiently for the elevator and, when the doors parted, a familiar foot-tread. As Foggy drew closer, Matt sighed. Going by the crunching, crackling, and smell of chemical preservatives, Foggy hadn't waited to get to his office before opening the bag of cheese puffs today. He'd also stopped at the deli on his way in; Matt could smell chipotle barbecue sauce, cheddar, and beef. His partner was clearly planning to eat lunch at his desk. He hoped the weather would hold up, because once that sandwich came out of its waxed paper wrapper, it was going to graduate from annoyance to full-blown health hazard and Matt meant to be down at one of his favorite lunch counters before Foggy dug in, if at all possible.
"Matt?" Foggy poked his head into the doorway. "I wasn't expecting you to be in ahead of me."
Matt pushed away the transcript and smiled. "To be honest, I wasn't either," he admitted. "I know you put in longer hours than I do and I was hoping to catch you before the day got underway."
Foggy sank into the chair in front of Matt's desk. "I've got 45 minutes before my first appointment and it's a new client, so there's nothing to review ahead of time. What's up?"
"Well," Matt sighed, "You remember my four o'clock? The one I threw out of here yesterday?"
Foggy tilted his head to one side. "The Gotham billionaire who would have paid any fees and expenses we asked without flinching or attempting to negotiate? The one who could have kept us in clover for a few months? The guy with the potential to send a lot of business our way, particularly if his company is looking at opening up a branch in our fair city? No, Matt. I can't say I do."
Matt sighed again. "It just didn't add up. He was hiding something major. When I caught him, he didn't try to bluster his way out of it, I'll give him that. He stuck to his story and he was a lot calmer about it than most of the people I catch that way. Startled, not defensive."
"Okay," Foggy said slowly. "So..."
Matt hesitated. Although Foggy had recently found out about his double life, Matt wasn't about to confide such details about other 'costumes' to him, no matter what side they were on. "So," he said slowly, considering how much to divulge, "I went back to Baron and Baron last night to see if I could find something that would tell me why Wayne would have lied to me. I had company."
Foggy waited. After a moment of silence, he let out a long-suffering sigh. "You really aren't going to continue until I ask, are you?" Matt could hear the resignation in his voice when he continued, "Fine. Who?"
"I was hoping you could tell me," Matt admitted.
"Excuse me?"
"It was someone in a costume. Not local. At least, nobody I know. If he has a connection with Wayne's predicament, I'd say it's a safe assumption he's from Gotham. Trouble is, I don't know who he was. We didn't really get around to introducing ourselves."
"And you think I can help, because..."
"Because if I describe what my senses were able to make out of the intruder and his costume, there's a chance that you'll recognize it from images that you've seen before." He smiled. "Be my eyes?"
"Pass me a pad and pen. I'll take notes." Matt handed them over. Foggy took a deep breath and poised the tip of the pen at the top of the page. "Okay, what do you got?"
"Male, mid-to-late thirties, about six-two, two hundred and ten pounds-most of it muscle..."
Foggy's pen scratched on the pad. "Got that. So, we know it's not Poison Ivy or Penguin."
"Long cape, full, scalloped edges. He's got a cowl, too. With horns, or maybe ears, but not much like mine. They'd be about," he held his index fingers several inches apart, "yea long and pointed."
Foggy's heart rate sped up. "I think I know," he said slowly, "but keep going. Anything else?"
"Yeah. I think he gets off on intimidation. He was definitely trying to strong-arm me into backing down, and he's got a voice with more gravel than a stretch of country road. Menacing. He's got combat skills-good ones; knows about pressure points for one thing, and he strikes to incapacitate-not kill. At least, he wasn't trying to kill me, last night."
"Okay, even if it wasn't for the costume, that should tell us it wasn't Joker or Deathstroke. Pretty sure I do know, but keep going."
"He also uses some kind of irregularly-shaped throwing knife. It's bigger than a shuriken, um... ninja star-"
"Hey, I watched Ninja Turtles, too; I know what a shuriken is."
Matt smiled at that. "I would have taken one to look at later, but things went south fast and I had to get out of there. He pinned some sort of tracer on me; I got rid of it. Then someone put a brick through a car window to try to lift a stereo and I got back to work. So?" He lifted his glasses slightly and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Does any of that strike any chords with you?"
"I think so," Foggy said slowly, with a note of awe in his voice. "I think," he said again, "you just met Batman."
Bruce made up his mind not to attend the second day of the conference. By now, news of his indiscretion would have circulated through Baron and Baron and, although part of him wanted to show up smiling and joking, making it seem as though yesterday had been an embarrassing misunderstanding, he knew that he needed this time to try to come up with a strategy to clear his name. And, he realized, he still needed to secure legal representation. He'd give it until five this afternoon. And then, if he hadn't found an attorney willing to see him by the end of the week, he was going to have to bite the bullet and call his regular attorney, who-as Dick had rightly surmised-would not be at all pleased to have to cut her vacation short and come down to New York.
"Will you please go for a walk or something?" Dick's voice broke into his thoughts. "You're giving me a headache with that drumming."
Bruce snatched his hand away from the desk guiltily. He hadn't realized that he'd been tapping his fingers on its surface. It was a bad habit he'd picked up as a child and thought he'd broken long ago. "Sorry."
"Finger-tapping, glowering while in civvies, and an apology?" Dick's smile belied the concern in his voice. "You're not coming down with anything, are you?"
For a moment, Bruce's glower deepened. Then he sighed. "This is not my city. If it were, I wouldn't find myself in this situation. I don't like being caught off-guard. I don't like being in a place that is just enough like Gotham to make me feel... off-kilter when things don't play out as anticipated." He shook his head. "Had this happened in Gotham, there would be contingency plans in play, which would have worked, in no small part, simply because of who I am. I don't have the same cachet here and it's costing me." He sighed again. "And there are far too many 'capes' to keep track of."
Dick walked over to Bruce and placed a hand on his shoulder. "So, you didn't recognize Daredevil. Big deal. It's not like he commutes to Gotham every other week."
"It's not just that." Bruce let his eyes close for a moment. "I think I really do detest these situations where I could clear my name in a heartbeat by admitting that I was Batman, and I'm not sure if I can do so any other way-and no, I am not thinking of admitting it."
"I know that," Dick grinned. "Admitting things isn't your style. I mean, you still haven't admitted that you let Alfred pick out my last birthday present."
"I chose the color."
"Bruce, it was a Maserati. It could have been lime green with pink polka dots and I would have loved it." He gave Bruce's shoulder a squeeze. "Though I will state for the record that blue was a good choice."
They shared a smile.
There was a knock on the door to their suite.
Dick raised an eyebrow. "I can get that. It'll give you time to jump out the window if it's the cops with a warrant."
Bruce waved him away. "I'll do it." He strode to the door and checked the peephole.
Dick heard his surprised grunt just before he pulled the door open. "Mr. Murdock," he said curtly. "What are you doing here?"
This entry was originally posted at http://dragonbat2006.dreamwidth.org/35669.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson
Words: 3552
Summary: When Bruce Wayne finds himself in a bit of legal trouble in New York, he discovers that good attorneys are easy to find, but hard to keep in the dark-even when they're blind!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Drama
Warnings: None
Timeline: Daredevil near the end of Volume 1. Batman post-Knightsend, pre-No Man's Land.
Prologue
Thanks to Kathy and Debbie for the beta!
Chapter 1
At first, Batman thought that his earlier musings about culprits returning to the scene of the crime had been accurate, but on a closer look, he recognized his error. The hacker, as he'd told Dick, had been about his height and build. This intruder was slimmer and lithe instead of muscular. Did the hacker have an accomplice? Whoever was inside, they were wearing something tight and form-fitting, though it was too dark to make out more than that. They also weren't using a flashlight or any other form of illumination.
"Enable night vision lenses," he said softly. In response to his voice command, there was a soft tone. A moment later, the lenses of his cowl shifted to green and he heard a low-pitched whine as the shapes and contours of the room before him came into clearer focus.
Beneath his mask, Batman's eyes narrowed. The intruder was wearing a cowled suit, much like his own, minus a cape. There was some sort of weapon in a holster strapped to his thigh. Sprouting from the cowl were two small devil horns. Batman's face set in an angry scowl. New York was lousy with costumes, both of the crime-fighting and the criminal variety-which begged the question: which one was this?
Ally or enemy, who knew what sort of mess they might make of the crime scene? He had to get inside before there was nothing left for him to find. He thought for a moment. Baron and Baron was in an older building; one where the windows could actually be opened. There were three of them opening into the office he needed to access. Batman swung lightly to the next window sill-the one that would give him the clearest path to the door, should he need access to the rest of the building. Then, from a compartment in his utility belt, he extracted a small set of burglar's tools and set to work. It might be thirty-one floors up, but the windows were still wired and Batman had no intention of tripping any alarms tonight.
It took Daredevil a moment to place the heartbeat. It wasn't one he was overly familiar with and the window glass muffled it slightly, but then, he'd encountered it only a few hours earlier and it was still relatively fresh in his mind. Beneath his cowl, his eyebrows lifted. You are just full of surprises, Mr. Wayne, he thought to himself. A moment later, he registered two more sounds: the whine of night vision goggles and the clean snap of copper wire parting between tungsten-carbide shears. While the whine didn't diminish, it was soon complemented by the nails-on-a-chalkboard effect of steel on glass. After taking out the burglar alarm, Wayne was using a glass cutter on the window pane.
He frowned. Whatever Wayne was wearing tonight, it wasn't the attire he'd worn at their earlier appointment. A cloak-or perhaps, a cape-flowed behind him, obscuring the contours of his body. There were two protuberances rising from his head and tapering to points. His frown deepened. He'd never been to Gotham City before. He'd heard of some of the people who operated there on either side of the law, but he had no idea who he was facing tonight. News stories often emphasized visual description, when they didn't rely on photos and video to enhance the coverage-and phrases like "wearing a purple suit" or "trailing a jet-black cape" were worse than useless to him.
Daredevil sighed. Until he knew whether he was facing a friend or a foe, he didn't want to engage. That didn't mean that he was about to withdraw until he knew what Wayne was after. He heard the faint scrape as a piece of glass came free of the window-Wayne must have had a suction cup on it, for it didn't fall-and felt the night breeze come through the hole it left behind. A moment later came the click of a latch and the creak as the window eased open.
He waited until Wayne entered through the open window. Then, in one quick stride, Daredevil moved to the opposite wall... and flicked on the lights.
Almost instantly, he was rewarded by an angry snarl, as Wayne reeled back, his arm over his eyes. Night-vision goggles had one very-easy-to-exploit vulnerability. Daredevil pulled his billy-club out of its holster. "You're a long way from Gotham," he said evenly. "Care to explain?"
He heard something whistle through the air and dodged on instinct as a small object flew past him and embedded in the wall. "I'll take that as a 'no,'" he said, holding onto one part of the club and hurling the other. Airline cable extended between the two pieces and streaked toward his adversary's legs, but the caped figure leaped upward and out of the club's trajectory.
"I suppose you're here to cover your tracks," Wayne intoned, as he flipped to a landing several feet away from him. His voice was harsh and gravelly. Had he not been positive of the identity of the man before him, Daredevil doubted that he would have connected the voice he was hearing now with that of the man who'd been in his office earlier. Pheromones and heartbeat didn't lie, though.
"Funny," Daredevil shot back, as he reeled club and cable back in, "I was just thinking the same thing about you."
Wayne stood there silently, as though expecting his mere presence to be intimidating. Daredevil sighed. "I don't suppose we can talk this over?"
"I have no quarrel with you," Wayne replied. "Just stay out of this." He moved toward the computer station.
"Sorry," Daredevil said, touching the control on the billy-club to separate the two halves and retract the cable. "Not happening." He advanced slowly. It wasn't lost on him that Wayne's attacks were aimed more to warn him off than actually hurt him. While he appreciated the thought, there was no way that he was letting the man get anywhere near that computer.
"Have it your way," Wayne replied. Quick as a cat, his hand shot out and grabbed one of the club-halves.
Without missing a beat, Daredevil smashed the other one down over the caped man's knuckles. There was a harsh hiss of pain.
Wayne released the club, dropped, and swept a kick toward Daredevil's legs. Daredevil flipped out of range, then surged forward again, clubs ready for battle. This time, Batman feinted and countered with a pressure point strike. Daredevil winced as his right arm went numb. Fortunately, he smiled, he was left-handed. He thumbed the button to release the cable, gripped its end, and whipped the weighted club toward Wayne's torso. Wayne dodged. The club kept going. An instant later, the sound of shattering glass filled the air-followed almost immediately by a security alarm.
Both men swore. Then Wayne shoved him hard in his left shoulder and took off through the empty window frame.
Daredevil stumbled, recovered his footing, and followed quickly, casting his club into the night and snagging a nearby flagpole. From there, he swung himself up to a nearby rooftop. He listened intently and frowned. There was too much noise, too many people, and with the office alarm still ringing in his ears, he couldn't detect Wayne's heartbeat anymore. He sighed. So far, this wasn't turning out to be one of his better nights.
Across the street, the alarm shut off and Daredevil relaxed for a moment. Then he realized that he was still hearing another sound, very close by, and just a touch softer than a heartbeat; a kind of intermittent beeping. His jaw hardened. He spent the next few minutes listening to see if he could find Wayne's heartbeat once more, even as he tried to tune out the beeping. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, but was probably more like about five minutes, the effect the nerve strike wore off and he brought his right hand to his left shoulder to remove the tracer that his adversary had tagged him with before leaping out the window.
"Nice try, Mr. Wayne," he said under his breath as he ground the device beneath his boot heel, "but no cigar."
Dick had just gotten back from meeting with Donna when Bruce returned to the hotel room. "Uh-oh," he said, taking in his mentor's demeanor at a glance. "I take it tonight did not go well."
Bruce stalked over to the twin bed nearest the window and sat down, a disgusted look on his face. "You've spent more time in this city than I have. What do you know about Daredevil?"
Dick blinked. "Well, it's not like we've worked together; more like waved to one another when we happen to pass by. He's good, though," he continued seriously. "In both senses of the word. Martial arts, boxing, and acrobatics; not to mention those billy-clubs. Not too big on gadgets and no apparent meta powers. Oh, and left-handed. Why?"
Bruce sucked in air and let it out. "He was there tonight. At Baron and Baron. We... had an altercation."
"Oh?"
Bruce sighed. "The office was dark. I saw him moving around and assumed that it was either the hacker or an accomplice." Briefly, he related what had happened. "Of course, I'd reviewed the files on known Capes operating in this city-on both sides of the law-before coming here, but the costumed population in Manhattan alone is over 700 percent of Gotham's and having a photographic memory means that I remember all the data I read. It doesn't mean that I can necessarily retrieve that data in a split second." He shook his head. "Initially, it was too dark to identify the costume. Then, after he pulled that stunt with the lights, I wasn't seeing much besides spots. It wasn't until I got out of there and plugged his details into the Batmobile's computer that I realized who I'd encountered. I lost the tracer's signal a few minutes later." He made a face. "If he hadn't been wearing a devil costume, I might have realized sooner that we were on the same side."
"Says the guy who dresses like a bat."
Bruce's lips twitched. "Point."
"I wonder what he was doing at Baron and Baron," Dick remarked. "I can see how, in light of what happened today, they might have wanted to bring in extra security, but Daredevil's not exactly part of Heroes for Hire."
"He might have some connection with the firm," Bruce said thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, his voice did sound a bit familiar. He could well have been at the meet-and-greet I attended yesterday morning, before I slipped off." A faint smile came and went as he continued talking. "I know this much: if someone had broken into my company, I'd certainly do my own investigation later that night, when things were quieter." He nodded again. "I believe that I'll have Oracle run a check on the Baron family; she may turn something up."
"Uh huh. Wait." Dick frowned. "You said Daredevil wasn't using a flashlight. Did he have night-vision lenses, too?"
"He must have," Bruce said wearily. "He could have turned them off just before he hit the lights... No," he sat up straighter. "Wait. Even if he had, his eyes should have still needed time to adjust, but he didn't hesitate for a moment." He thought for a moment. "If his lenses can compensate automatically for sudden changes in illumination... That might explain it." He exhaled softly. "Something of that nature would be extremely beneficial," he mused. "I wonder if there's a patent out."
"Now, why do I think that Waynetech's R&D department is going to get some new instructions?" Dick grinned.
"It's a useful invention," Bruce pointed out. "I'm sure you can see the applications for the military, as well as law enforcement, security..."
"Showing up Stark Industries?"
Bruce assumed a self-righteous expression. "That was the farthest thing from my mind," he snorted. At Dick's raised eyebrows, he added under his breath, "And it would have been even farther from it if they hadn't secured the last four government contracts that Waynetech competed for."
Dick grinned. "Thought so!"
Matt was in the office early the next morning. Although his fingers moved rapidly over the Braille transcripts, had someone interrupted him, he would have been hard-put to explain exactly what he was reading. He listened impatiently for the elevator and, when the doors parted, a familiar foot-tread. As Foggy drew closer, Matt sighed. Going by the crunching, crackling, and smell of chemical preservatives, Foggy hadn't waited to get to his office before opening the bag of cheese puffs today. He'd also stopped at the deli on his way in; Matt could smell chipotle barbecue sauce, cheddar, and beef. His partner was clearly planning to eat lunch at his desk. He hoped the weather would hold up, because once that sandwich came out of its waxed paper wrapper, it was going to graduate from annoyance to full-blown health hazard and Matt meant to be down at one of his favorite lunch counters before Foggy dug in, if at all possible.
"Matt?" Foggy poked his head into the doorway. "I wasn't expecting you to be in ahead of me."
Matt pushed away the transcript and smiled. "To be honest, I wasn't either," he admitted. "I know you put in longer hours than I do and I was hoping to catch you before the day got underway."
Foggy sank into the chair in front of Matt's desk. "I've got 45 minutes before my first appointment and it's a new client, so there's nothing to review ahead of time. What's up?"
"Well," Matt sighed, "You remember my four o'clock? The one I threw out of here yesterday?"
Foggy tilted his head to one side. "The Gotham billionaire who would have paid any fees and expenses we asked without flinching or attempting to negotiate? The one who could have kept us in clover for a few months? The guy with the potential to send a lot of business our way, particularly if his company is looking at opening up a branch in our fair city? No, Matt. I can't say I do."
Matt sighed again. "It just didn't add up. He was hiding something major. When I caught him, he didn't try to bluster his way out of it, I'll give him that. He stuck to his story and he was a lot calmer about it than most of the people I catch that way. Startled, not defensive."
"Okay," Foggy said slowly. "So..."
Matt hesitated. Although Foggy had recently found out about his double life, Matt wasn't about to confide such details about other 'costumes' to him, no matter what side they were on. "So," he said slowly, considering how much to divulge, "I went back to Baron and Baron last night to see if I could find something that would tell me why Wayne would have lied to me. I had company."
Foggy waited. After a moment of silence, he let out a long-suffering sigh. "You really aren't going to continue until I ask, are you?" Matt could hear the resignation in his voice when he continued, "Fine. Who?"
"I was hoping you could tell me," Matt admitted.
"Excuse me?"
"It was someone in a costume. Not local. At least, nobody I know. If he has a connection with Wayne's predicament, I'd say it's a safe assumption he's from Gotham. Trouble is, I don't know who he was. We didn't really get around to introducing ourselves."
"And you think I can help, because..."
"Because if I describe what my senses were able to make out of the intruder and his costume, there's a chance that you'll recognize it from images that you've seen before." He smiled. "Be my eyes?"
"Pass me a pad and pen. I'll take notes." Matt handed them over. Foggy took a deep breath and poised the tip of the pen at the top of the page. "Okay, what do you got?"
"Male, mid-to-late thirties, about six-two, two hundred and ten pounds-most of it muscle..."
Foggy's pen scratched on the pad. "Got that. So, we know it's not Poison Ivy or Penguin."
"Long cape, full, scalloped edges. He's got a cowl, too. With horns, or maybe ears, but not much like mine. They'd be about," he held his index fingers several inches apart, "yea long and pointed."
Foggy's heart rate sped up. "I think I know," he said slowly, "but keep going. Anything else?"
"Yeah. I think he gets off on intimidation. He was definitely trying to strong-arm me into backing down, and he's got a voice with more gravel than a stretch of country road. Menacing. He's got combat skills-good ones; knows about pressure points for one thing, and he strikes to incapacitate-not kill. At least, he wasn't trying to kill me, last night."
"Okay, even if it wasn't for the costume, that should tell us it wasn't Joker or Deathstroke. Pretty sure I do know, but keep going."
"He also uses some kind of irregularly-shaped throwing knife. It's bigger than a shuriken, um... ninja star-"
"Hey, I watched Ninja Turtles, too; I know what a shuriken is."
Matt smiled at that. "I would have taken one to look at later, but things went south fast and I had to get out of there. He pinned some sort of tracer on me; I got rid of it. Then someone put a brick through a car window to try to lift a stereo and I got back to work. So?" He lifted his glasses slightly and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Does any of that strike any chords with you?"
"I think so," Foggy said slowly, with a note of awe in his voice. "I think," he said again, "you just met Batman."
Bruce made up his mind not to attend the second day of the conference. By now, news of his indiscretion would have circulated through Baron and Baron and, although part of him wanted to show up smiling and joking, making it seem as though yesterday had been an embarrassing misunderstanding, he knew that he needed this time to try to come up with a strategy to clear his name. And, he realized, he still needed to secure legal representation. He'd give it until five this afternoon. And then, if he hadn't found an attorney willing to see him by the end of the week, he was going to have to bite the bullet and call his regular attorney, who-as Dick had rightly surmised-would not be at all pleased to have to cut her vacation short and come down to New York.
"Will you please go for a walk or something?" Dick's voice broke into his thoughts. "You're giving me a headache with that drumming."
Bruce snatched his hand away from the desk guiltily. He hadn't realized that he'd been tapping his fingers on its surface. It was a bad habit he'd picked up as a child and thought he'd broken long ago. "Sorry."
"Finger-tapping, glowering while in civvies, and an apology?" Dick's smile belied the concern in his voice. "You're not coming down with anything, are you?"
For a moment, Bruce's glower deepened. Then he sighed. "This is not my city. If it were, I wouldn't find myself in this situation. I don't like being caught off-guard. I don't like being in a place that is just enough like Gotham to make me feel... off-kilter when things don't play out as anticipated." He shook his head. "Had this happened in Gotham, there would be contingency plans in play, which would have worked, in no small part, simply because of who I am. I don't have the same cachet here and it's costing me." He sighed again. "And there are far too many 'capes' to keep track of."
Dick walked over to Bruce and placed a hand on his shoulder. "So, you didn't recognize Daredevil. Big deal. It's not like he commutes to Gotham every other week."
"It's not just that." Bruce let his eyes close for a moment. "I think I really do detest these situations where I could clear my name in a heartbeat by admitting that I was Batman, and I'm not sure if I can do so any other way-and no, I am not thinking of admitting it."
"I know that," Dick grinned. "Admitting things isn't your style. I mean, you still haven't admitted that you let Alfred pick out my last birthday present."
"I chose the color."
"Bruce, it was a Maserati. It could have been lime green with pink polka dots and I would have loved it." He gave Bruce's shoulder a squeeze. "Though I will state for the record that blue was a good choice."
They shared a smile.
There was a knock on the door to their suite.
Dick raised an eyebrow. "I can get that. It'll give you time to jump out the window if it's the cops with a warrant."
Bruce waved him away. "I'll do it." He strode to the door and checked the peephole.
Dick heard his surprised grunt just before he pulled the door open. "Mr. Murdock," he said curtly. "What are you doing here?"
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