Coalition

Chapter One: La recherche commence

'None but the brave deserves the fair' John Dryden

Waking up is one thing. Waking up and not remembering how you got to sleep is another. Waking up and remembering quite clearly what happened is another thing entirely. The latter was the category into which our unfortunate hero fell. As one may guess, he was not overjoyed at having to wake up, let alone having to wake up to what he did. There are about a million situations which he would regard as 'bad'. This was one of them.

And so followed the process of awakening. Hearing comes back first. Whispers wisped throughout the wide room, like water trickling down a rock face. They, in themselves, hid something sinister and venomous, as though every whisper's intent was to rip his heart from his chest, but they also hid other noises. Noises so drowned out that they were undetectable. A roar, distant but there, echoed dimly. Perhaps it were a car, perhaps a plane, perhaps any number of things that make a roaring noise.

Smell. The one thing any human may regret recognising upon waking up. Sweat, definite, sharp and overpowering, could be smelt, somehow making its way to his taste buds which recoiled in utter disgust. Then another, wet, damp, but withholding a scent far more dark than initially perceived: it struck then; sewer, swamp. Almost, but not quite, as distinctive as it's sweaty predecessor. The third smell, one that evoked immediate but not worrying concern, was that of iron. Iron and the squelching noises underfoot: blood.

The taste in his mouth turned bitter and vile after the seemingly eternal torment of sweat. It tasted like metal but it was liquid in texture. It was blood. Delicately, the large, powerful muscle tested the white daggers of the jaw: one was loose and a wisdom tooth at the top right was missing. Searching around his mouth a bit more, the missing tooth was recovered; an unpleasant discovery at best. This movement had not gone unnoticed. The whispers had ceased, there had been movement; the distinct noise of foot, trainer, shoe against wet, sticky blood.

The distant roar of something unidentifiable echoed. Straining against better Reason, the two eyes fluttered open. They danced delicately against Logic, prancing like beautiful, breakable butterflies. The two deep oceans of startling, piercing blue perforated the layer of darkness and the lids fell; transporting vision, once again, into a brief night of vivid nothingness. They opened again, struggling against intensely white light, in time to see something grab hold of the throat.

"-"

There had been an attempt to make noise but the pathetic attempt had been blocked. The throat from which the noise tried to escape was hoarse, dry and coated in blood. This throat was also, now, being grasped by a callously, uncaring glove. The glove kept tightening and our hero was trying so hard to make noise, so hard, but all sound was drowned out, leaving nothing but pain and frustration. His eyes opened suddenly and glared, glared with such force and intensity that the hand loosened, even if it were just for a second, it was a significant lessening of force.

"Let go." despite the hoarseness of his throat and the tight snake sneakily suffocating it, the command was loud, forceful and clear as day. The hand moved. He couldn't help but feel his heart rise a little, despite years of training he remained but a human: a human whose first and deepest desire was to live. This hope burned deep, buried by hundreds of layers and it lay beneath its constant companion: fear. This was, until his eyes scanned the room. Then, all of a sudden, the hope vanished, fear laughed wildly.

"Welcome to the land of the living," cackled the voice, "Bats."

***

The Justice League's headquarters was a glistening silver machine hovering high in the sky: to some a symbol of hope and protection; to others a very big and scary 'death ray'. It was one of the few occasions when all of the founding members – minus, of course, Batman – were gathered in the same place. Despite the media storm their gatherings usually caused, they met a lot less frequently than imagined. Mostly because most of the superheroes had their own cities, which they protected fiercely; that was why Batman was hardly ever seen at these meetings.

The Control Hub, as it had been dubbed by Flash, and Flash alone, was at the centre of the floating, over-sized satellite. The six members met there on the few occasions they were all gathered together. There was always someone sitting at the computer terminal, watching, on the off-chance that something might turn-up. Something usually did when there were less of them there. When all of them were there, though, it usually seemed silent for a long while.

Wonder Woman and Hawk Girl, naturally, sat next to each other. They were adamant in the belief that 'us girls gotta stick together', despite the quite obvious flirting going on within the group. Superman, directly opposite the pair, sat at the head of the table and was widely regarded as the leader of the group, despite there being no said leader. J'onn J'onzz sat at the computer terminal on this particular occasion, with the Green Lantern sitting at the table and Flash furiously failing in his attempts to get the coffee machine to work.

The group had long since resigned itself to Batman's frequent and cold non-appearances and they made a habit of being surprised whenever he did turn up. They couldn't blame him, of course. Each and every one of them dreaded the idea of having to take Gotham City on as a job. The nicer cities were bad enough. Then there was the balancing act he had to manage, one that had a lot more media coverage than others. After all, Batman was a billionaire by day, not that the members of the group saw that as necessarily a bad thing.

"What's his excuse this time?" asked Wonder Woman. There was a cautious silence that followed. Most members of the group had seen some sort of connection between the two, except maybe Flash, and were determined not to evoke the almighty wrath of the super-powered Amazonian.

"I haven't heard from him." replied Superman, determined to keep his hands clean of the entire situation. He got along with Batman, well as 'along' as they possibly could, but had little intention of defending him against Wonder Woman. Superman often doubted if he would defend anyone against Wonder Woman: she was scarier than Batman.

"I haven't either." said Green Lantern.

"He never bothers to contact me." stated Hawk Girl, pouting slightly.

"Has anyone heard from him?" asked J'onn, eavesdropping.

"WHY WON'T THIS MACHINE WORK?!?!?" screamed Flash, who everyone ignored as he violently shook the defenceless coffee machine who seconds later proceeded to reveal that it was not that defenceless and sprayed nuke-hot coffee at his face, "ARGH!!!"

"No." the group minus Flash – who was screaming in the background from the coffee that had been squirted at his face - said in unison.

"That is not like him." observed J'onn.

"No," said Superman, "It isn't."

Suddenly the computer terminal lit up in a rather Christmas-tree-like fashion and started ringing. This was something that had not happened before, so they all assumed Batman was involved. In fact, if they had learned anything from their contact with Batman, it was that anything they had not seen before probably involved him somewhere down the line. This theory had, as of yet, yet to be proven wrong. J'onn frowned at the terminal and pressed a button which had conveniently lit up. The ringing ceased.

"Hello?" asked the Martian Manhunter, "Who is this? How did you get this number?"

"This is the Justice League?" asked the man down the phone with a very English accent.

"Yes," replied J'onn, "Who is this?"

"Wait, J'onn," requested Superman, "I think I recognise that voice. Alfred?"

"Master Kent?" asked Alfred, a sigh of relief came over the line, "Thank goodness, I thought I had the wrong number then."

"Why're you ringing?" asked Superman.

"Delivering an excuse from Bruce?" added Wonder Woman with a hint of aggression.

"Only if a day's absence qualifies." replied Alfred.

"What?" asked the entire League in unison, even Flash, who had finished running cold water on his face.

"You haven't heard from him?" asked Alfred, "I was afraid you'd say that."

"What's going on Alfred?" asked Superman.

"I think you should come to the Batcave. Immediately."

"What's wrong, Alfred?"

"Master Wayne has been missing for twenty-four hours. He left on a call over a day ago. The call apparently involved several of the most dangerous inmates from Arkham. I contacted the police earlier and they haven't heard anything. I found a message telling me to contact you if he were not back within exactly twenty four hours."

"We'll be there soon." replied Superman.

"Thank you. The Cave will be open," explained Alfred, "I'll put the kettle on."

With the line cut, concerned glances were immediately passed from one hero to the next. Batman never needed help. Batman never asked for help. Batman never lost. It was a worrying and demoralising development to the long evening that appeared as though it would just get longer.

***

"I don't think Bats has ever been this happy to see us!" exclaimed the Joker.

Batman was not happy with the situation. It could be worse though. Could be a lot worse. Though, always being the pessimist, he strongly suspected that it would do just that. It was a relatively small room by appearances but, in actuality, it must have been, at the very least, ten feet by six. It was also sound-proofed. There was an open door that led into another room. Within the second room was a window looking into the room which he occupied and a table with several packs of cards. He knew where he was.

"Eh, Batty, old buddy?" asked the Joker, getting uncomfortably close to the Bat with the clipped wings. It was a move he regretted as a lightning-fast head-but greeted him. Taking several steps back, and rubbing his head, he responded with a glare capable of great and terrible deeds. It was odd, Batman observed, it was not the response he was expecting, "HARLEY!"

Batman resisted the urge to roll his eyes. And it was a very powerful urge.

Harley entered the room in her unusually happy and cheerful attire. She entered through the manner of skipping and proceeded to stand beside 'Mistah Jay' like a lost puppy. It was pathetic, in a dark and twisted kind of way. The appearance of Harley, in itself, did not worry Batman all that much. It was the very large group of unfortunately familiar faces behind her that worried him. Though, he wasn't all that worried and it certainly didn't show. Plans and ideas were already formulating in his mind. He could get out of this, and if he couldn't, there was always Plan Z.

"Yeah?" asked Harley.

"Explain the rules of this little game to our deluded friend," requested the Joker before snapping, "AND QUICKLY!"

The Joker and the rest of the group left the room and crowded around the glass pane, observing with the intensity of vultures, Batman's reactions to the knowledge Harley was about to provide him with. They knew he was tied down to the chair with chains of iron but they had all known him to escape from chains before. They knew he had just woken up but they had all seen him take out ten men with ease after waking up from unconsciousness. They knew him but watched in morbid fascination as though he were a toy of many, and never-ending tricks despite the distinct disappearance of his utility belt, which had been left at the scene of his kidnapping. They weren't quite that stupid.

"Heya, B-Man!" began Harley who was met with a Death Glare, "Now, it's very simple. Every hour, Mistah Jay's gonna send in one of our new friends. They're gonna mess you up a bit, come out and the next guy goes in. Simple as that. If you're still alive in fourteen hours, you get to meet J-Man's new friend: Mistah AK-47," three quick tap-slaps on Batman's cheek were received with the Bloody Death Glare, "Try not to kick the can, kay?"

With that, she was gone, leaving Batman to try and come up with a plan that would help him survive fourteen hours of torture without being pumped full of lead at the end. He sighed slightly, but invisibly, It could still be worse.

***

Alfred was walking down the stairs with a tray when the Justice League arrived. They admired his timing and he was, secretly, very happy about being admired by a group of super-powered, world-famous legends. He led them over to the terminal of the Batcave and activated it. He proceeded to activate a pre-recorded message and then began making the tea. The group seemed a bit on edge by Batman's disappearance and certainly all seemed concerned.

"A pre-recorded message?" asked Flash, "Did he know this was going to happen?"

"This is Bruce we're talking about," replied Green Lantern, "It wouldn't surprise me."

"Ssh!" snapped Hawk Girl, "It's starting."

"If you're watching this message, then something's happened and I might need your help getting out of it. I got a call five minutes ago. It reeks of the Joker. I think he might have succeeded in forming a coalition, if he has, and twenty four hours has passed without my appearance, they've captured me. They won't have killed me. That's not their style. They'll have taken me to a location they think is safe. I've complied a list of locations they might use but this list has been split into clues so that you can keep an eye on Gotham whilst you're trying to find me."

"And he said he didn't know how to work people to death." retorted Flash.

"SSH!"

"There are very specific routes for each of you. I suggest you keep to them. Alfred should be able to provide you with the map. Another thing I should mention, I'd say there are up to sixteen inmates who might have agreed to go along with this coalition. Of those sixteen, two will defect or leave. Keep an eye out for them and any other Arkham inmate you find. They may be criminals but the chances are, they're plotting to break up the coalition themselves. A final note: if you don't find me within fourteen hours, assume the worst."

A long silence followed.

"I'd forgotten how cheerful he was."

***

"Where are you two going?" asked the Joker, "The fun's just starting!" turning his attention to Zsasz he explained, "Have fun, Zsasz-y boy!"

"I have better things to be doing," explained Catwoman, "I heard there's recently been a shipment of Egyptian artefacts, artefacts including several priceless statues of Bastet."

"Oh, party-pooper," snapped the Joker, "And you? What's your excuse? Gotta go to the loo?"

"No," replied the Riddler, "I feel it unnecessary and pointless to lower myself to levels of such degradation."

"Okay big-words," said the Joker, "But, don't tell anyone about this little," he motioned around the room, "Charade."

"Wouldn't dream of it." replied Catwoman.

The two walked out of the building and turned to each other.

"Sabotage?" asked Catwoman.

"Oh, yes." replied the Riddler.

A/N: Will try to update as often as possible but can't guarantee a weekly update. Possibly fortnightly. Will update more regularly than once a month though.