Fic: Under the Radar (Crossover: Batman/Daredevil)
Fandom: Batman/Daredevil Crossover
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, Wilson Fisk, Lady Shiva
Words: 2770
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: Talk of canonical character deaths.
Notes: Thanks to Kathy and Debbie for the beta!
Timeline: Daredevil near the end of Volume 1. Batman post-Knightsend, pre-No Man's Land.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
He was leaning against the wall next to the door, trying to be patient while Batman worked, when he heard them. Immediately, he snapped to attention and assumed a fighting stance. "A dozen, at least," he said tersely to Nightwing. "Coming up the stairwell to the east of us. Rubber-soled shoes; loose strides; making a bit too much noise to be seasoned professionals. Heart beats are pounding a bit harder than they should be if they're pros. My guess would be that they have skills and training, but not much experience." He sighed. "They're probably hoping to use us to make a name for themselves."
Nightwing made a disgusted noise. "I get enough of that on my home turf," he muttered. "I think it's that whole 'knowing-we-don't-kill' thing that gives them the nerve to try it. That and every now and again, Penguin slaps a bounty on our heads."
Batman lifted his head from the computer terminal at that. "Penguin knows he'll never have to pay it. Meanwhile, it earns him some popularity, the underlings hoping to displace him have something else to preoccupy them, and we waste time dealing with the lowlifes, while he tries to set a grander scheme in motion."
Daredevil pulled his billy-club out of its holster and twisted the two sticks into a staff, noting that Nightwing was now holding two long sticks, slightly narrower than his own weapons. Escrima sticks, unless he missed his guess. "We'll have to compare notes, once all this is over," he said.
Batman grunted. Nightwing laughed.
Nightwing had to admit that their opponents had some talent. They moved with a fluid grace born of long training hours with skilled instructors. They wasted no energy on defiant shrieks. Their moves were solid and devoid of grandstanding and posturing. Then again, there were only a dozen of them, so it was scarcely a fair fight.
"Forget comparing notes," he grinned, aiming a strike at one adversary's temple with the escrima stick in his left hand, while he disarmed a second foe with the stick in his right. "Seems like we've both learned a lot of the same-" A grunt from directly behind him made him spin, just in time to see a third figure crumple in the face of an extended billy-club. He grinned. "Thanks." He went back to his first two opponents, felling them with a succession of quick, brutal strikes to arms, chest, belly, and skull. Then he leaped back, braced himself against a shelving unit and delivered a twisting split-kick to knock down another ninja, who had been lunging for Daredevil. "Let me return the favor."
The crimson swashbuckler didn't turn around. Instead, he rammed his staff sideways into the abdomens of two more foes, knocking the wind out of them. "Appreciated," he said, with a smile in his voice. Then, more harshly, "Your left!"
Nightwing spun automatically, His first strike found his opponent's throat. A split-second later, his second hit a pressure point on the man's right arm. The ninja's weapon-a wicked-looking dagger, clattered to the floor. "Thanks," he grinned. "As I was saying," he sidestepped his opponent's kick and used a leg-sweep to knock him off of his feet, "forget comparing notes. I can't believe we've never found time for a friendly workout."
Daredevil handily dispatched three more foes with his staff. When an opponent with a staff of his own managed a blow to his wrist, the crimson-clad crime-fighter lunged and shouldered him back. The ninja crashed into one of the long computer tables, sending a monitor crashing to the floor. Without hesitation, Nightwing caught the arm of the last ninja, who had thought to sneak up behind him, and flipped him over the table and onto his companion. His head hit the edge of the table and he slumped, dazed.
"We may need to do something about that," Daredevil admitted. He popped open the end of one billy-club and extracted a length of cable.
"Here," Nightwing held out a number of long strips. "Plastic handcuffs. I've got a bunch."
Daredevil accepted them with a smile and set about helping Nightwing secure their attackers. "More coming," he said with a frown. "About two minutes away."
"Batman?" Nightwing called, "how are you doing?"
Batman sounded preoccupied. "I've almost finished extracting the data from this one. I haven't had the opportunity to examine it."
"And you won't," a deep self-assured voice sounded over the intercom. "This ends now."
The laboratory door slammed shut and a series of loud clicks told the three men that they were sealed inside.
A loud hiss directed the three men's attentions to a vent set high in the wall near the ceiling, where a sickly gray cloud was beginning to emerge.
"Gas masks," Batman said tersely.
As they hastened to comply, from a speaker in a corner, a vibrating whine filled the room, growing quickly in pitch and intensity. Daredevil was the first to cry out as the sound overwhelmed them.
Sometimes-like when he came to after a blow to the back of the head with double vision and a beaut of a concussion-Nightwing considered incorporating an armored cowl or helmet into his next costume redesign. At times like this, though, he had to admit that such protective covering would have made it harder to insert earplugs quickly and effectively. As he dislodged the earpiece of his comm-link, his eyebrows shot up. The sonic whine was still bad, but nowhere close to what it had been an instant ago. With the insertion of the earplugs, the effects faded to a much more manageable level. Which meant... the weapon was riding the radio frequencies.
Nightwing gritted his teeth and took stock. His ears were still ringing and his brain felt like Jell-o, but years of training and experience had taught him to work through high levels of pain and discomfort. 'Discomfort' was the operative word; while the sonics were doing a number on his ears, the minute amount of gas he'd been exposed to before donning his mask made his face itch ferociously. He couldn't think about that now. Bruce and Daredevil were both down and, with the cowl radio, Bruce might actually be in worse shape. Daredevil was probably just picking up whatever stray sound waves were leaking out from their radio receivers. Well, Nightwing reflected, maybe he could do something about that-if whatever it was that was doing this was nearby. Now where...? His eyes narrowed. There. Doing his best to ignore the pain that made him feel like his head was in a vise and his guts were in a knot, he hurled a nightarang at a wire mesh cage fastened high on one wall. The mesh parted and he threw a second one. The third went through the grate and impacted the delicate machinery behind it. The residual sound deepened in pitch, becoming less of a weapon and more of an irritant. Not quite as irritating as the gas, though, he thought darkly.
Nightwing reached into a boot compartment and pulled out a bolo. He whirled the three weighted balls over his head and let fly. The speaker shattered. Silence reigned.
Nightwing looked around. Batman and Daredevil were both down for the count, but Daredevil was in worse shape, so Nightwing moved toward him first. "You okay?"
Daredevil didn't respond to his voice, but when Nightwing reached out and tapped his shoulder, the crimson crime-fighter rolled over. "NIGHTWING?"
"Whoa! Keep your voice dow-."
"THANKS. I WASN'T EXPECTING THAT," Daredevil shouted. He groaned. "MY EARS ARE STILL RINGING. I CAN'T HEAR A THING."
Well, at least that explained why he was shouting. Hopefully, it would pass soon; he wasn't sure how they were going to communicate otherwise. He was about to check on Batman, when he heard the door bolts retracting. With a scowl, Nightwing rose to his feet and readied his escrima.
"TROUBLE!" He yelled. He wasn't sure if either companion had heard him-or if either would have the sense to stay down if they hadn't recovered from the last attack. From what he'd seen of Daredevil, and from what he knew of Bruce, he wasn't betting on it.
Behind his mask, Zeren smiled. The sonic weapon-a gift from one of several organizations with whom Baron and Baron currently had dealings-had performed as well in the field as it had in simulation. A higher setting would have caused permanent damage to their intruders, but he didn't know enough about what it might do to delicate electronics. It had been created to jam radio communications, but in development, they had discovered that, if the device wasn't calibrated exactly right, it could do quite a bit more. Zeren knew of several mercenary and criminal outfits that would be interested in such 'drawbacks'. When it came to the family business, though, he needed to be a bit more circumspect. His uncle might leave him to his own devices for the most part, but Zeren doubted he'd be sanguine about the cost of replacing thousands of dollars of equipment. And the lost data might be irretrievable. Besides, had the sound waves shattered lights and windows, Zeren wasn't positive that he'd be able to feed building security a plausible explanation for not involving the police, once they saw the extent of the damage. No, the lower setting had been a wiser move. The intruders were injured and off-balance now. They would be easy pickings.
He charged into the room, eight warriors close behind him. A billy-club slammed into his kneecap. "JUST BECAUSE I CAN'T HEAR DOESN'T MEAN I CAN'T FIGHT," a harsh voice bellowed.
Someone in blue and black sailed over Zeren's head to square off against his men, escrima sticks moving so fast that they were barely more than a blur of activity.
As he prepared to face the furious vigilante in scarlet, it occurred to Zeren for the first time that he might be in far over his head.
Batman was well aware of the battle raging steps away from him. At the moment, though, the bulk of his attention was devoted to getting himself past some of the nastier side effects of the sonic weapon. His stomach was causing him more problems than his ears at this point. The stale rubber odor of the inside of the gas mask wasn't helping him in the slightest.
Very cautiously, he peeled back one glove, exposing a fractional amount of skin and fought to note the effect. When he detected nothing more than cool air, he rolled the glove back a bit further. Finally, when an inch of exposed skin encountered no untoward effect, he all but ripped the gas mask from his face as, still retching, he reached into a compartment of his utility belt for one of Alfred's home remedies. He lifted a small cloth bag to his nose and inhaled a mix of mint, ginger, and several other herbs he probably could have identified, had he the luxury of the time to do so. Almost immediately, he felt his stomach begin to settle, though it looked like he was going to have to sit this one out. It was a good thing he'd trained his protégé well. Nightwing was more than holding his own and Daredevil was certainly coping too.
No, Batman thought, as he made his way carefully away from the thick of the battle, it was just as well that he wasn't needed here. He had to take a few more minutes to recover from the effects of the sonic weapon.
A dark-robed opponent moved to block his path, and Batman subdued him almost on reflex. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the one who seemed to be in charge crumple, a nightarang embedded in his shoulder and a quickly rising lump on his head which might have come from an escrima or a billy-club. He smiled. They really didn't need him for this...
Someone leaped on him from behind. As his knees buckled under the unexpected weight, he heard a familiar laugh in his ear and realized that the odds against them had just worsened by a significant margin.
Daredevil relied on his ears more than most, but what he absolutely hated about sonic weapons was what they did to his equilibrium. Of course balance was an inner ear function and most of what affected his hearing affected that, too. He knew that-at least compared to his normal movements-he had to be lurching and lumbering right now. Probably shouting too; he had to remember that just because he couldn't hear much at the moment didn't mean his companions were in the same boat-though they might well be.
He was fortunate that the new wave of fighters-while more competent than the first group to enter the room-were still no match for him. While his old mentor Stick would have dispatched them faster, Daredevil found that despite his current disadvantage, he could still handle himself well. Particularly with Nightwing assisting; the younger vigilante was clearly used to keeping track of how his teammates were doing in a pitched battle. Daredevil wasn't used to teaming up with other heroes. Being accustomed to working solo meant that, in combat situations, he generally didn't focus overly on anyone who wasn't trying to attack him. In practice, it meant that, while Nightwing was doing a great job of covering him, Daredevil realized that he wasn't doing much to reciprocate. He struggled to shrug off the residual effects from the sonic attack so that he could, at least, pull his own weight better.
As he elbowed one opponent in the solar plexus, he frowned, startled. He hadn't heard anyone else enter, but he caught a whiff of jasmine and sandalwood blended with a trace of vanilla. Incense, not perfume, he judged, as his radar sense registered a lithe form hurtling from above. But if the attacker was ignoring them...
"NIGHTWING!" Now he meant to shout. "YOUR LEFT. TEN O'CLOCK! BATMAN'S DOWN!" As he leapt toward the newcomer, he noted that Nightwing was dispatching his remaining adversary with more speed and force than he had been a moment ago, the better to finish with him and help his partner.
Nightwing had to give credit where credit was due, this guy was good. Oh, not a particularly good fighter-the guy's eyes kept widening involuntarily every time Nightwing blocked or deflected a punch-but quick on his feet, agile, and able to easily dodge strikes which would have connected against Nightwing's run-of-the-mill adversaries. "Who've you trained with?" he grinned. "Iron Master? League of Assassins? The O-Sensei? No, wait. The way you move, he'd be a little before your time unless you started fighting really young."
His opponent snarled and feinted for his eyes. Nightwing didn't fall for it. Instead, he grabbed the other man's wrist, turned, and flipped him neatly over one shoulder. The other man tried to pull Nightwing down with him, but the young vigilante twisted loose and stepped clear of his adversary's leg-sweep.
"NIGHTWING! YOUR LEFT. TEN O'CLOCK! BATMAN'S DOWN!" In the split second that Daredevil's shout distracted him, his current foe regained his feet. Nightwing's smile dropped. He hadn't been playing with the guy, not exactly, but he couldn't afford to waste any more time. Batman needed him now. His escrima sticks blurred, appearing to the naked eye like black fans, as they struck out at temple, chest, eye, belly, and leg, before a final blow to the head knocked his opponent out cold. That done, he pivoted in the direction Daredevil had indicated.
For an instant, an expression of dismay flashed across his face. Lady Shiva?! He only hoped that, battered though they were, the three of them could take her.
Lady Shiva laughed, as she drove the side of her hand into Batman's throat. "On the best day of your life, you were barely a match for me," she said. "And this is scarcely that."
Batman staggered back. He struggled to counter, but a kick to the side of his knee brought him down with a groan. In a flash, Shiva was on him, slipping a thin cord over his head and against his throat with one hand, while she pinned one arm back with the other. "Stand down!" she hissed. "I only need one hand to tighten this wire, and I can do it before you can reach me!"
Nightwing froze instantly. His escrima clattered to the ground. Then his blood ran cold. Daredevil hadn't heard her ultimatum. And he was still coming...
This entry was originally posted at http://dragonbat2006.dreamwidth.org/45843.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, Wilson Fisk, Lady Shiva
Words: 2770
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: Talk of canonical character deaths.
Notes: Thanks to Kathy and Debbie for the beta!
Timeline: Daredevil near the end of Volume 1. Batman post-Knightsend, pre-No Man's Land.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
He was leaning against the wall next to the door, trying to be patient while Batman worked, when he heard them. Immediately, he snapped to attention and assumed a fighting stance. "A dozen, at least," he said tersely to Nightwing. "Coming up the stairwell to the east of us. Rubber-soled shoes; loose strides; making a bit too much noise to be seasoned professionals. Heart beats are pounding a bit harder than they should be if they're pros. My guess would be that they have skills and training, but not much experience." He sighed. "They're probably hoping to use us to make a name for themselves."
Nightwing made a disgusted noise. "I get enough of that on my home turf," he muttered. "I think it's that whole 'knowing-we-don't-kill' thing that gives them the nerve to try it. That and every now and again, Penguin slaps a bounty on our heads."
Batman lifted his head from the computer terminal at that. "Penguin knows he'll never have to pay it. Meanwhile, it earns him some popularity, the underlings hoping to displace him have something else to preoccupy them, and we waste time dealing with the lowlifes, while he tries to set a grander scheme in motion."
Daredevil pulled his billy-club out of its holster and twisted the two sticks into a staff, noting that Nightwing was now holding two long sticks, slightly narrower than his own weapons. Escrima sticks, unless he missed his guess. "We'll have to compare notes, once all this is over," he said.
Batman grunted. Nightwing laughed.
Nightwing had to admit that their opponents had some talent. They moved with a fluid grace born of long training hours with skilled instructors. They wasted no energy on defiant shrieks. Their moves were solid and devoid of grandstanding and posturing. Then again, there were only a dozen of them, so it was scarcely a fair fight.
"Forget comparing notes," he grinned, aiming a strike at one adversary's temple with the escrima stick in his left hand, while he disarmed a second foe with the stick in his right. "Seems like we've both learned a lot of the same-" A grunt from directly behind him made him spin, just in time to see a third figure crumple in the face of an extended billy-club. He grinned. "Thanks." He went back to his first two opponents, felling them with a succession of quick, brutal strikes to arms, chest, belly, and skull. Then he leaped back, braced himself against a shelving unit and delivered a twisting split-kick to knock down another ninja, who had been lunging for Daredevil. "Let me return the favor."
The crimson swashbuckler didn't turn around. Instead, he rammed his staff sideways into the abdomens of two more foes, knocking the wind out of them. "Appreciated," he said, with a smile in his voice. Then, more harshly, "Your left!"
Nightwing spun automatically, His first strike found his opponent's throat. A split-second later, his second hit a pressure point on the man's right arm. The ninja's weapon-a wicked-looking dagger, clattered to the floor. "Thanks," he grinned. "As I was saying," he sidestepped his opponent's kick and used a leg-sweep to knock him off of his feet, "forget comparing notes. I can't believe we've never found time for a friendly workout."
Daredevil handily dispatched three more foes with his staff. When an opponent with a staff of his own managed a blow to his wrist, the crimson-clad crime-fighter lunged and shouldered him back. The ninja crashed into one of the long computer tables, sending a monitor crashing to the floor. Without hesitation, Nightwing caught the arm of the last ninja, who had thought to sneak up behind him, and flipped him over the table and onto his companion. His head hit the edge of the table and he slumped, dazed.
"We may need to do something about that," Daredevil admitted. He popped open the end of one billy-club and extracted a length of cable.
"Here," Nightwing held out a number of long strips. "Plastic handcuffs. I've got a bunch."
Daredevil accepted them with a smile and set about helping Nightwing secure their attackers. "More coming," he said with a frown. "About two minutes away."
"Batman?" Nightwing called, "how are you doing?"
Batman sounded preoccupied. "I've almost finished extracting the data from this one. I haven't had the opportunity to examine it."
"And you won't," a deep self-assured voice sounded over the intercom. "This ends now."
The laboratory door slammed shut and a series of loud clicks told the three men that they were sealed inside.
A loud hiss directed the three men's attentions to a vent set high in the wall near the ceiling, where a sickly gray cloud was beginning to emerge.
"Gas masks," Batman said tersely.
As they hastened to comply, from a speaker in a corner, a vibrating whine filled the room, growing quickly in pitch and intensity. Daredevil was the first to cry out as the sound overwhelmed them.
Sometimes-like when he came to after a blow to the back of the head with double vision and a beaut of a concussion-Nightwing considered incorporating an armored cowl or helmet into his next costume redesign. At times like this, though, he had to admit that such protective covering would have made it harder to insert earplugs quickly and effectively. As he dislodged the earpiece of his comm-link, his eyebrows shot up. The sonic whine was still bad, but nowhere close to what it had been an instant ago. With the insertion of the earplugs, the effects faded to a much more manageable level. Which meant... the weapon was riding the radio frequencies.
Nightwing gritted his teeth and took stock. His ears were still ringing and his brain felt like Jell-o, but years of training and experience had taught him to work through high levels of pain and discomfort. 'Discomfort' was the operative word; while the sonics were doing a number on his ears, the minute amount of gas he'd been exposed to before donning his mask made his face itch ferociously. He couldn't think about that now. Bruce and Daredevil were both down and, with the cowl radio, Bruce might actually be in worse shape. Daredevil was probably just picking up whatever stray sound waves were leaking out from their radio receivers. Well, Nightwing reflected, maybe he could do something about that-if whatever it was that was doing this was nearby. Now where...? His eyes narrowed. There. Doing his best to ignore the pain that made him feel like his head was in a vise and his guts were in a knot, he hurled a nightarang at a wire mesh cage fastened high on one wall. The mesh parted and he threw a second one. The third went through the grate and impacted the delicate machinery behind it. The residual sound deepened in pitch, becoming less of a weapon and more of an irritant. Not quite as irritating as the gas, though, he thought darkly.
Nightwing reached into a boot compartment and pulled out a bolo. He whirled the three weighted balls over his head and let fly. The speaker shattered. Silence reigned.
Nightwing looked around. Batman and Daredevil were both down for the count, but Daredevil was in worse shape, so Nightwing moved toward him first. "You okay?"
Daredevil didn't respond to his voice, but when Nightwing reached out and tapped his shoulder, the crimson crime-fighter rolled over. "NIGHTWING?"
"Whoa! Keep your voice dow-."
"THANKS. I WASN'T EXPECTING THAT," Daredevil shouted. He groaned. "MY EARS ARE STILL RINGING. I CAN'T HEAR A THING."
Well, at least that explained why he was shouting. Hopefully, it would pass soon; he wasn't sure how they were going to communicate otherwise. He was about to check on Batman, when he heard the door bolts retracting. With a scowl, Nightwing rose to his feet and readied his escrima.
"TROUBLE!" He yelled. He wasn't sure if either companion had heard him-or if either would have the sense to stay down if they hadn't recovered from the last attack. From what he'd seen of Daredevil, and from what he knew of Bruce, he wasn't betting on it.
Behind his mask, Zeren smiled. The sonic weapon-a gift from one of several organizations with whom Baron and Baron currently had dealings-had performed as well in the field as it had in simulation. A higher setting would have caused permanent damage to their intruders, but he didn't know enough about what it might do to delicate electronics. It had been created to jam radio communications, but in development, they had discovered that, if the device wasn't calibrated exactly right, it could do quite a bit more. Zeren knew of several mercenary and criminal outfits that would be interested in such 'drawbacks'. When it came to the family business, though, he needed to be a bit more circumspect. His uncle might leave him to his own devices for the most part, but Zeren doubted he'd be sanguine about the cost of replacing thousands of dollars of equipment. And the lost data might be irretrievable. Besides, had the sound waves shattered lights and windows, Zeren wasn't positive that he'd be able to feed building security a plausible explanation for not involving the police, once they saw the extent of the damage. No, the lower setting had been a wiser move. The intruders were injured and off-balance now. They would be easy pickings.
He charged into the room, eight warriors close behind him. A billy-club slammed into his kneecap. "JUST BECAUSE I CAN'T HEAR DOESN'T MEAN I CAN'T FIGHT," a harsh voice bellowed.
Someone in blue and black sailed over Zeren's head to square off against his men, escrima sticks moving so fast that they were barely more than a blur of activity.
As he prepared to face the furious vigilante in scarlet, it occurred to Zeren for the first time that he might be in far over his head.
Batman was well aware of the battle raging steps away from him. At the moment, though, the bulk of his attention was devoted to getting himself past some of the nastier side effects of the sonic weapon. His stomach was causing him more problems than his ears at this point. The stale rubber odor of the inside of the gas mask wasn't helping him in the slightest.
Very cautiously, he peeled back one glove, exposing a fractional amount of skin and fought to note the effect. When he detected nothing more than cool air, he rolled the glove back a bit further. Finally, when an inch of exposed skin encountered no untoward effect, he all but ripped the gas mask from his face as, still retching, he reached into a compartment of his utility belt for one of Alfred's home remedies. He lifted a small cloth bag to his nose and inhaled a mix of mint, ginger, and several other herbs he probably could have identified, had he the luxury of the time to do so. Almost immediately, he felt his stomach begin to settle, though it looked like he was going to have to sit this one out. It was a good thing he'd trained his protégé well. Nightwing was more than holding his own and Daredevil was certainly coping too.
No, Batman thought, as he made his way carefully away from the thick of the battle, it was just as well that he wasn't needed here. He had to take a few more minutes to recover from the effects of the sonic weapon.
A dark-robed opponent moved to block his path, and Batman subdued him almost on reflex. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the one who seemed to be in charge crumple, a nightarang embedded in his shoulder and a quickly rising lump on his head which might have come from an escrima or a billy-club. He smiled. They really didn't need him for this...
Someone leaped on him from behind. As his knees buckled under the unexpected weight, he heard a familiar laugh in his ear and realized that the odds against them had just worsened by a significant margin.
Daredevil relied on his ears more than most, but what he absolutely hated about sonic weapons was what they did to his equilibrium. Of course balance was an inner ear function and most of what affected his hearing affected that, too. He knew that-at least compared to his normal movements-he had to be lurching and lumbering right now. Probably shouting too; he had to remember that just because he couldn't hear much at the moment didn't mean his companions were in the same boat-though they might well be.
He was fortunate that the new wave of fighters-while more competent than the first group to enter the room-were still no match for him. While his old mentor Stick would have dispatched them faster, Daredevil found that despite his current disadvantage, he could still handle himself well. Particularly with Nightwing assisting; the younger vigilante was clearly used to keeping track of how his teammates were doing in a pitched battle. Daredevil wasn't used to teaming up with other heroes. Being accustomed to working solo meant that, in combat situations, he generally didn't focus overly on anyone who wasn't trying to attack him. In practice, it meant that, while Nightwing was doing a great job of covering him, Daredevil realized that he wasn't doing much to reciprocate. He struggled to shrug off the residual effects from the sonic attack so that he could, at least, pull his own weight better.
As he elbowed one opponent in the solar plexus, he frowned, startled. He hadn't heard anyone else enter, but he caught a whiff of jasmine and sandalwood blended with a trace of vanilla. Incense, not perfume, he judged, as his radar sense registered a lithe form hurtling from above. But if the attacker was ignoring them...
"NIGHTWING!" Now he meant to shout. "YOUR LEFT. TEN O'CLOCK! BATMAN'S DOWN!" As he leapt toward the newcomer, he noted that Nightwing was dispatching his remaining adversary with more speed and force than he had been a moment ago, the better to finish with him and help his partner.
Nightwing had to give credit where credit was due, this guy was good. Oh, not a particularly good fighter-the guy's eyes kept widening involuntarily every time Nightwing blocked or deflected a punch-but quick on his feet, agile, and able to easily dodge strikes which would have connected against Nightwing's run-of-the-mill adversaries. "Who've you trained with?" he grinned. "Iron Master? League of Assassins? The O-Sensei? No, wait. The way you move, he'd be a little before your time unless you started fighting really young."
His opponent snarled and feinted for his eyes. Nightwing didn't fall for it. Instead, he grabbed the other man's wrist, turned, and flipped him neatly over one shoulder. The other man tried to pull Nightwing down with him, but the young vigilante twisted loose and stepped clear of his adversary's leg-sweep.
"NIGHTWING! YOUR LEFT. TEN O'CLOCK! BATMAN'S DOWN!" In the split second that Daredevil's shout distracted him, his current foe regained his feet. Nightwing's smile dropped. He hadn't been playing with the guy, not exactly, but he couldn't afford to waste any more time. Batman needed him now. His escrima sticks blurred, appearing to the naked eye like black fans, as they struck out at temple, chest, eye, belly, and leg, before a final blow to the head knocked his opponent out cold. That done, he pivoted in the direction Daredevil had indicated.
For an instant, an expression of dismay flashed across his face. Lady Shiva?! He only hoped that, battered though they were, the three of them could take her.
Lady Shiva laughed, as she drove the side of her hand into Batman's throat. "On the best day of your life, you were barely a match for me," she said. "And this is scarcely that."
Batman staggered back. He struggled to counter, but a kick to the side of his knee brought him down with a groan. In a flash, Shiva was on him, slipping a thin cord over his head and against his throat with one hand, while she pinned one arm back with the other. "Stand down!" she hissed. "I only need one hand to tighten this wire, and I can do it before you can reach me!"
Nightwing froze instantly. His escrima clattered to the ground. Then his blood ran cold. Daredevil hadn't heard her ultimatum. And he was still coming...
This entry was originally posted at http://dragonbat2006.dreamwidth.org/45843.html. Please comment there using OpenID.