Debutante: Low Society

A Ranma ½ / Batman Fan Fiction

by

Jeremy Harper

Disclaimer – Ranma ½ is the property of Rumiko Takahashi. Batman is the creation of Bill Finger and Bob Kane. Both are used without permission.

Chapter 2

"Is Mad Hatter usually this blatant?" Akane asked incredulously.

"No," said Ranma. "At least not since I was ten." He made a face. "This is really starting to stink."

Bruce nodded in agreement. From the heroes' vantage point they looked down across the street at a decrepit three-story building. A retail establishment took up the entire first floor and its other floors seemed to be apartments. The entire building looked as if it not had tenants for at least a generation. A sign set above the door and the cracked and filthy display widows, all but illegible thanks to decay and the elements, read: Dodgson's – Fine Milliners and Haberdashers. Established 1903.

"Why is he being so obvious?" Akane wondered. "He has to know he's all but shouting through a megaphone 'this is a trap.'"

"Tetch's motivations can sometimes be obscure," said Bruce. He frowned thoughtfully, both curious and wary of the situation.

"A distraction, maybe?" Ranma suggested. "Drawing us in so to keep us out of the way from something else?"

"Possible. Maybe even probable, but this is a distraction we can't ignore. The longer Miss Wesker is held by Tetch, the greater the risk to her sanity."

"So what's the plan?" asked Akane.

"Nightwing and I will perform the sweep. I'll go through the front, Nightwing the back. We'll search through the building floor by floor. Robin, you're to stay here and observe. Call out if you spot anything. Remember, you're not to engage – not even against henchmen. Understood?"

"Understood, Batman," she said with a nod, hoping her hood concealed her slight frown of disappointment. She had known Bruce was not going to change his initial position on her participating in confronting the Mad Hatter. She could even appreciate the logic of his decision – this was her first night out as a professional. But still, she could not help feeling a little let down over her exclusion.

"Ready, Nightwing?" asked Bruce.

"Set," Ranma answered. "Let's spring this trap."

Bruce jumped off the roof of the tenement they were observing from, snapping his cape ridged so to glide down to the store front. Ranma flashed Akane an encouraging smile and gave her a two-fingered salute before executing a spectacular leap, bounding across the street and into the alleyway to the left of Dodgson's, blending into the shadows and vanishing. With a soft sigh Akane squatted on the curb of the rooftop, pulling her cape close as she watched Bruce pause briefly before entering through the abandoned shop's front door.

Time dragged interminably for Akane. She scanned the streets and her surroundings avidly, hoping to spot something relating to Mad Hatter, but everything remained disappointingly quiet. At least she managed to restrain any fidgeting to clasping and unclasping her hands as they rested on top of her thighs. She made a face, sticking out her tongue, impatient with waiting and feeling frustrated by her impatience. Ranma had told her back in Tokyo that patience and knowing when not to act were extremely important in this profession, and Bruce had further emphasized it during her lessons. It also helped her a little, having her fiancé confess that he often had a hard time with that aspect of fieldwork himself.

However, that fact was not so much that she was impatient, but that she was asked to simply watch and observe while Bruce and Ranma were actively investigating. Years ago Nabiki had nick-named her – half-derisively, half-affectionately – the Queen of Action, and Akane had to admit it fit her. If something was going on that she could help with, she wanted to be involved, not stand to one side like the demure little girl her father wanted to be.

Sighing softly, she straightened up to stretch her legs and roll her shoulders before allowing herself to check the time. Ten minutes had passed. She wondered if her partners had found anything yet. Her question was answered when Bruce's voice whispered up to her from her gauntlet portable.

"Nightwing, second floor. I found -"

The transmission cut off suddenly. Akane frowned as she brought up her arm and hit her communication switch.

"Batman, repeat please," she said. No response. Her frown deepened. "Batman, are you there?" Still no answer. "Nightwing, can you hear me? Nightwing, respond please." Silence, nothing more. She checked the band status and found to her dismay the line was completely dead. Mad Hatter must have sprung his trap.

Akane bit her lip, worry swelling within her. It took all her strength of will not to swoop down to the street and go into Dodgson's herself. Bruce had ordered her to observe only, and the last thing she wanted was to make him and Ranma think she was unreliable. She took a deep breath to steady herself. While the thought of Ranma (and Bruce) being under threat distressed her, she needed to remember that they were professionals, the best of the best, with years of experience fighting and defeating the most dangerous beings alive. Mad Hatter was a threat, undoubtedly, but her partners had gone against others far deadlier than Jervis Tetch and had yet to be defeated. She recited names in her head, a litany of Batman and Nightwing's past victories: Joker; Two-Face; Bane; Deathstroke; Brother Blood; Ra's al Ghul...

She shuddered at the last name, instinctively repulsed by the shadow the Demon's Head cast over her existence. She wondered, as she often did, how she would react if... no, when she met him. Akane liked to think she would be fierce and defiant in the face of that deadly, immortal being, but she feared... she feared...

Akane shook her head sharply. "Focus," she whispered. With renewed determination she glared down and across the street, alert and ready.

That's when she heard it; the creek of door hinges, the slightest scuff of shoe rubber on concrete. She whirled about, drawing her combat staff just in time to see men emerging from the rooftop access enclosure. All wore masks – masks depicting bulging-eyed rabbits, gape-mouthed frogs, and tusked walruses. With a strange, jerky speed they rushed her.

Ranma had finished his search of the basement when Bruce contacted him.

"Nightwing, second floor. I found her."

"Copy," he responded. He gave the area one last scan before heading up to join his partner.

He found Bruce before an open door, mouth curved in a pensive frown. Ranma peered past him to evaluate the scene. A small room lay beyond the threshold, the dust of years carpeting its bare floor recently disturbed. On a moldering couch set against the back wall lay a young woman, only a few years older than he. She was tall and pretty, with shoulder-length blond hair and a round, porcelain pale face, and was dressed as if she had stepped out of a John Tenniel illustration, clad in a sky-blue dress and a pristine white apron, matched with white stockings, black shoes, and a black headband in her golden hair. Her eyes were closed, her red lips slightly parted, and her breasts rose and fell with a rapidity that alarmed Ranma. To one side of the couch, by the young woman's feet, stood a full-length mirror held in a dark walnut wood frame, clean and spotless, the moonlight coming through the pair of windows on the walls to Ranma's right gleaming in the glass. There was no other furniture in the room, nor painting or decorations. An open archway in the left-hand wall led to another room – the kitchen, he guessed. All was silent, save for the quick, faint breathing of Alicia Wesker.

The Dynamic Duo exchanged looks, a silent communication, before entering. Bruce went first. Ranma followed, halting in the center of the room to act as a sentinel. Bruce approached the unconscious girl cautiously, bending over her and checking her pulse at both her neck and wrist.

"Drugged," he muttered. "Maybe some sort of injected benzodiazephine. Some bruising where she was grabbed, but no other visible physical trauma." Bruce straightened. "I don't like how fast she's breathing. We need to get her to Gotham General."

"This is too easy," Ranma grumbled. "Where the hell is Tetch? We should have run into some sort of resistance by now."

A loud, metallic clangor answered him as iron grates slammed down to seal off the windows. Ranma drew an escrima stick as Bruce stepped back from the couch, drawing his cape around him.

"You and your big mouth," Bruce said. Ranma grinned back mischievously.

"The door isn't blocked," he said.

Before Bruce could answer the mirror began to flicker and glow, and from it came a voice , a high, nasally tenor. It recited a poem.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat

How I wonder what you're at

Up above the world you fly

Like a tea tray in the sky."

Ranma sighed in annoyance.

"Would it kill you to get some new material, Tetch?" he asked. "You say that almost every time we run into you."

An image resolved in the mirror's glass, showing a slight man sitting at the end of a white draped table, a tea cup held delicately in his gloved hands. He wore a green leather long coat and a matching top hat, a white card reading 10/6 thrust into its band. Scraggly, dirty blond hair framed an unwashed face dominated by a pronounced nose. Large blue eyes gleamed out with a piercing gaze, bright with insane, lethal cunning and malevolent humor.

"Why should I, you callow young knave?" said the Mad Hatter. "Nightwing, what nonsense you declaim. The joy and enrichment such deathless poetry provides is inexhaustible. The day I grow weary of such work is the day I will be weary of life!"

"Where are you, Hatter?" asked Bruce, voice level and grim.

The Mad Hatter's mouth twitched, and he took a sip of tea before answering. "Oh, just down a rabbit hole, not too far away. Where exactly, I will not say. I'm quite certain you'd find it without any hints from me, if you put your minds to it... and if you even get the chance. But it matters not, since I will soon be departing with alacritous speed."

"And leave your Alice behind? You surprise me."

The Hatter sighed melodramatically. "Yes, well, I'll admit that is a bit of a wrench, but it is necessary. While as lovely and suitable as Miss Wesker is, I wasn't looking for my Alice when I had her taken. I was looking for a pawn, you see. A pawn to sacrifice in order to draw a knight out of position."

"For what purpose?"

The Hatter set down his cup and drew a pocket watch from inside his coat, grinning as he check the time. "I suppose it won't hurt to tell you, since by my surmise it's too late for you to do anything about it. You see, I was recently contacted by a most gloriously regal woman. A woman who claimed that she was the queen of your heart, Batman." His grin grew wider when he saw Nightwing start in sudden realization; Batman's only reaction was a slight narrowing of his eyes. "In a delightful reversal, I am being paid a rather significant sum of money to help this Queen of Hearts steal a tart right out from beneath the Dark Knight and his young squire's noses."

Ranma's face went stark-white with fear and rage. "Robin," he hissed under his breath. He turned on his heel and stormed toward the open door.

"Nightwing!" Bruce called out in warning. His senior partner's voice was enough to break Ranma out of the crackling haze of anger clouding his mind and recognize the danger he almost blundered into face first. He swayed backwards, practically bending himself in half to evade the massive fist that thrust out of the darkness. He flipped back to Bruce's side, who had gone into a ready stance, and drew his other escrima stick. Through the doorway stepped a man, a veritable mountain of gross muscle. He wore a crude breastplate of white-painted metal, with matching bracers on his forearms and greaves encasing his shins. His head was bald, save for a few strands of colorless hair, and his blocky face was contorted with homicidal rage.

"Amygdala," said Batman.

"Ah, I see you recognize him,"said Mad Hatter. "Mister Helzinger, with a little hypnotic persuasion, has generously agreed to be a White Knight in opposition of you, Dark Knight. He and a few other gentlemen are quite eager to entertain you this evening." Men trailed in behind the giant, their faces concealed by rabbit, frog and walrus masks.

The Mad Hatter sighed happily as he put away his pocket watch. "It's time for me to bid you adieu, Batman, Nightwing. I'm afraid I'm quite late for a very important date. And, if I have a bit of luck, you two will soon be late as well. Ta ta." The image in the mirror flickered out of existence.

Bruce cracked his knuckles as he surveyed the opposition.

"Break through as quick as you can," he ordered Nightwing. "Robin is your top priority. I'll clean up here."

Ranma nodded in agreement, his teeth bared in a white slash of rage.

With a fierce kiai Akane swung her staff into the stomach of one of her assailants. As he doubled over she brought the staff up into his face. His rabbit mask split with a satisfying crack and he dropped onto his back, lying still on the concrete. Akane pivoted swiftly on a heel, her staff a blurring arc of silver that knocked two more of her opponents spinning to the ground. A fourth thug charged in, arms outstretch to seize her in a bear hug; she ducked and slammed her shoulder into his stomach, forcing the air out of him, then heaved up, toppling him head over heels behind her. The novice crime fighter leaped away, twisting around in the air and throwing a batarang into the walrus-masked face of another attacker, sending him sprawling. His comrades jumped over his twitching body, rushing for her. Akane grimaced as she set herself to meet them.

This was perhaps the most disconcerting fight she had ever experienced. As part of her training she had studied the particular process Mad Hatter used to bring people under his control. But reading about something and actually experiencing it were two very different things. These men were almost completely silent, neither shouting nor cursing nor threatening her. The only noise they made were grunts or exhalations when she hit them. Further, Hatter's hypnotic control had dulled both their pain receptors and senses of self-preservation, making them willing to get up from punishment that would make an ordinary man cry for quarter. Akane was further hampered in that she had to be careful not to strike them too hard to compensate for their increased endurance – the last thing she wanted was to permanently cripple or even accidentally kill one of these men. Hatter usually suborned professional thugs and criminals for his henchmen, but that did not make them any less victims than Alicia Wesker.

Akane collapsed her staff to baton length and charged her opponents, lashing out with it in furious strikes, snapping the weighted ends of her cape in their faces to disorient, dancing through the crowd with savage grace, breaking through to the opposite side and leaving three men lying on the concrete in her wake. She turned to rush them again when she felt a sudden stinging in her left bicep. She tried to glance down at her arm and nearly got punched in her head for her trouble. Gritting her teeth she hit her opponent on the forearm with her baton, the crack of breaking bone loud as a gunshot, and then sent him crashing on his face with a kick to the small of the back. She smoothly flowed into a spinning hook kick that caught another thug in the pit of the stomach. As he doubled over Akane lifted her knee, shattering his mask with a crunch and snapping him backwards to the concrete. She dove between two converging henchmen, rolling away and gaining distance from the scrum of Hatter's henchmen.

As she again set to meet them Akane realized that her left arm had gone completely numb. She could barely move it, let alone raise it. Trepidation momentarily chilled her before she tamped it down – only three of the controlled men were still up, and despite their hypnosis-derived enhanced abilities they were no match for her, even with her lacking the use of an arm. She suddenly grinned, an insouciant, cocky smile, and with a shouted kiai threw herself at them.

And then, finally, the fight was over, the last of the Mad Hatter's dupes lying insensate on the roof, those whose masks were lost or broken during the melee groaning as sensation returned to their numbed bodies. Akane let out a gusty sigh of relief, wiping sweat off her forehead with the back of her glove before hooking her staff onto her utility belt. She glanced at her left arm, still unresponsive, noting a very slight trickle of blood on the green of her kevlar sleeve, but whatever projectile that hit her was gone, obviously dislodged during the fight. She scanned the roof with a swiftness that still surprised her. Already naturally observant, Bruce and Ranma's training in visual assessment had raised her perception to an even higher plane. In a few seconds she spotted something gleaming on the ground between two unconscious thugs. She approached it, dropping down to one knee for a closer look.

It was a shirken. The tip of one point was dyed red with her blood.

"Nani?" she muttered. She reached down to pick it up when suddenly her eyes flew open wide, her danger sense screaming out a warning. Her right arm blurred and another shirken pinged off her bracer. She somersaulted forward, dodging two more shirken, and in an instant was on her feet, throwing a batarang in retaliation.

Steel flashed in the moonlight, a straight, polished sword cutting the batarang in twain.

Akane sucked in a breath as she re-drew her staff. At the far edge of the roof stood three women, looking identical in their uniforms – silver body stockings, with matching gloves and boots, their faces concealed by gray scarves, each of them bearing a ninja-to.

"Very good," said one of the women. She stood slightly ahead of her comrades, her sword drawn.

Though the last time she had heard that voice her mind had been fogged and her will not her own, Akane recognized it instantly. "Kozaku..." she whispered.

For a moment her surroundings wavered, and she was thrown back in time to the Demon's Temple on Mount Terror, her soul weeping in shame and terror as she debased herself before a beautiful, terrible woman; watching in helpless horror as her body tried to kill the young man who was quickly becoming her dearest friend. Akane shook her head sharply, and with a monumental wrench of will forced the memory away, returning herself to the rooftop in the Narrows of Gotham City.

"It is time for you to return to our Mistress," said Kozaku.

"No," hissed Akane, raising her staff and extending it. Kozaku tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing, as she drew something from the satchel at her hip and thrust it out toward Akane. The young superheroine gasped, dropping the staff and taking a step back, as if punched. Kozaku held out the hideous jackal-emblem of Ra's al Ghul, sculpted from black basalt, carved citrines serving as eyes . Those blazing yellow eyes seemed to bore into Akane's, and she discovered she could not avert her gaze. She felt as if she was tethered to it by a steel cable.

"Whom do you serve?" asked Kozaku.

To Akane's horror she felt a hot, hazy sluggishness suffuse her body, terrifyingly familiar. Drugged! She thought wildly. That shirken was poisoned. They drugged me with the same thing Talia gave me back at the temple!

"Whom do you serve?" Kozaku asked again, more forcefully.

Akane sobbed, slipping down to one knee, her slight form trembling. Once again she could hear echoing through the corridors of her mind the baying of demons, commanding her to diminish her self and submit to the will of the Demon's Head, to become nothing more than an instrument of his malign will. Frantically she tried to calm herself, beat down the fear sinking to swallow her whole and recall the mental exercises Bruce had taught her that would reinforce her mental defenses.

"Stupid child," Kozaku chided. "Do you truly think you can resist the will of the Master? Such foolish impudence. He created you to serve him body and soul. To think you can deny that fate is the gravest of follies. Whom do you serve?"

The assassin's commanding voice boomed and echoed through Akane's head. She nearly fell on her face, bracing herself with her free hand at the last moment. Her head bowed, and she was now shaking violently. And then it stopped, and she knelt stock still. For a long, eternal minute, neither she nor the servants of Ra's al Ghul moved. Finally, the young woman rose slowly and smoothly to her feet, her head still bowed.

Kozaku allowed herself a soft chuckle. She had won. "Whom do you serve?" she asked one last time, enunciating each word.

Akane's right arm blurred; the assassin cried out in surprise as the emblem of her master exploded in her hand, shattered by the impact of a batarang.

"Never," Akane hissed. She lifted her head, revealing a face bone-white with fury, her mouth snarling in a slash of rage. "I will never bow to either Talia or Ra's al Ghul ever again. I will die first!"

"No, you will not die," Kozaku answered. "But by the time the Master is through with you, you will wish you had. Take her, sisters! Alive and intact." The other two assassins drew their swords.

Akane swallowed, frightened and sick. It had taken almost all of her energy to resist the controls embedded within her genetics and not submit to Kozaku's commands. It was a miracle that she could stand without shaking; how she was going to fight off three of Talia's elite guard in such a state, she had not the faintest idea. She swallowed again as she shifted into a side-stance, raising her right arm in guard. The three assassins stalked toward her, cautious but confident, rolling their swords so to strike with their blunt sides. Akane watched their approach, praying she would be fast enough to counter their attacks.

They were scant feet away from her when a blue and black blur flashed up and over the edge of the roof. Ranma came hurtling through the air at the assassin to Akane's left, grabbing her by the shoulders, flipping over her and, in a feat of extraordinary strength, throwing her at Kozaku. She barely dodged her sister, who went rolling hard across the concrete.

"No!" Kozaku gasped, her eyes flaring wide at the sight of an angry Ranma bearing down on her, escrima sticks drawn. She just managed to parry his initial strike, her sword flashing in riposte to force him away, then leaped back to get clear. She was ready to fight a drugged chosen one, but a wrathful Nightwing in full form was another matter. Even after more than a half a year, her humiliating defeat at his hands was still fresh in her memory. She would never admit it, but in some ways she feared this young superhero more than she did her Mistress.

"Retreat!" Kozaku commanded, turning and racing away. Her subordinates hesitated for a moment before following, jumping off the roof and into the darkness of the adjacent alley.

Ranma did not pursue. He watched the assassins until he was certain their retreat was not a feint before holstering his escrima sticks and turning to Akane. His fiancée had dropped down to her knees, gasping for air. He was by her in an instant, checking her over, hissing angrily when he saw the slight trail of blood on her left arm.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Akane shook her head. "No. They drugged me. The same stuff they used on me back at the temple. They tried..." she shook her head again, violently, and grabbed onto Ranma with her good arm, burying her face into the crook of his neck as she tried not to cry.

For once Ranma did not freeze in response to Akane hugging him, the need to make sure she was alright burying any jitters he had about being in her arms. He embraced her in turn, rubbing her back with a circular, soothing motion.

"It's okay, Tomboy," he whispered to her. "You're safe now. I got you."

He felt his gauntlet vibrate and activated the communicator.

"Status?" requested Bruce, his voice more brusque than usual.

"Robin was attacked," Ranma answered. "First by a bunch of Mad Hatter's thugs, whom she beat, and then by a trio of Demon assassins. I ran them off – they didn't have the stomach to fight me, but they managed to drug Robin. She thinks its the same garbage Talia used on her back in Japan. She's awake and coherent, but weak. How about yourself?"

" Amygdala is down, along with Tetch's men. Take the Batmobile and get Robin back to the Cave. I'll stay here with Miss Wesker and rendezvous with the police and EMTs."

"Right." Ranma shut off the comms and swept Akane up in his arms. "Let's get you home."

When the two teens returned to the Batcave, Alfred looked quickly at them and immediately took charge, ordering Ranma to carry Akane to the medical bay, where the older man proceeded to tend to her with an almost frantic energy. Perhaps under other circumstances, seeing the nigh-imperturbable Alfred Pennyworth fussing over Akane like a mother hen would have amused Ranma, but right now he could only alternate at rage toward Ra's al Ghul and relief that he had managed to get to Akane in time to keep her from being kidnapped. He hovered at the sidelines, knowing better than to get in Alfred's way.

She's safe, he kept reminding himself. She'll be fine. She's safe.

Bruce arrived a little after Alfred had bandaged Akane's injured arm and administered an antidote to the Demon's drug.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her as he pulled off his cowl. Before returning he had received an update from Ranma and knew Akane was fine, but had still been worried. He needed to see for himself that his newest ward was well. It still surprised him at how much of an impact Akane had made on his life and emotions.

"I'm alright," she said, though in truth she did not seem it. She looked distressed, her face pale and her eyes large and wet. "I'm sorry!" she suddenly blurted out.

Bruce's eyes widened in surprise. "Whatever for?"

"For getting into that fight on the rooftop. I know you told me not to engage, but Mad Hatter's men came upon me so fast! I... I..." She looked like she was about to cry. Ranma, who was sitting next to the medical cot she was laying on, took one of her small hands between his and squeezed it.

"It's alright, Akane," Bruce said, giving her a comforting smile. "I know all too well that even the simplest of plans don't survive contact with reality, let alone an enemy. And with how things turned out, it was for the best that you stayed to fight. I only intended for you not to pursue us into a foray. I never meant you shouldn't defend yourself. In the future, if you're ever attacked by henchmen again, you should do what you need to do to get away unharmed, even if it means breaking our plans. You did well tonight, Akane. I'm proud of you." Bruce was a man of few words, so his short praise meant more to Akane than she could say.

"So am I," said Ranma. He grinned jauntily at her. "You put twelve of Tetch's henchmen down by yourself, and I got no doubt you would have kicked those ninjbo's butts if push came to shove."

Akane giggled gently at that, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Thank you."

"I think it would be best if you spent the night in the medical bay for observation, Miss Akane," said Alfred. "I'll fetch you your pajamas. Master Bruce and Master Ranma can attest that the bodysuits are not very comfortable sleepwear. Is there anything else you would like me to bring you?"

Akane shook her head. "Thank you, Alfred."

"You're welcome, my dear," said Alfred with a smile, dropping his formality for a moment. He departed the med bay, feeling better himself now that Akane's spirits were brightening.

"I'll debrief you in the morning, Akane," said Bruce. "Ranma, come with me."

"I'll be right back," promised Ranma. He felt very reluctant to let his fiancée out of his sight, but he and Bruce needed to discuss the night's events.

"Okay," said Akane drowsily. Her eyes had fallen half-closed and she covered her mouth as she yawned.

The Dynamic Duo left the medical bay, going over to the Batcomputer. Bruce took the seat while Ranma leaned against a shelf. The younger man pulled off his domino mask and heaved out a sigh.

"I don't like this," Ranma growled. "We knew Ra's wasn't just going to sit idly by while we trained Akane, but attempting a snatch on her first night out? We messed up somewhere, Bruce."

"I agree," Bruce said. "We're going to have to perform a security audit on the Batcave and the manor grounds. I revamped the security systems before we brought Akane home, but it's possible Ra's managed to slip some sort of spy agent through our defenses."

"You think so?"

"Yes. Ra's al Ghul has centuries of experience, billions of dollars in resources and an army of talented fanatics at his command. If anyone is capable of it, he is."

"Point." Ranma grimaced. "Things are going to get a lot tougher if we're going to have to worry that any super-criminal activity we're investigating in Gotham could be a feint set up by Ra's or the Old Ghoul."

"Maybe, though I don't think we'll have to worry about a similar attempt for awhile. They'll know we'll be on our guard against it after tonight. However, whether Ra's will be on guard against me is another question."

"What do you mean?"

Bruce's hand skimmed over the Batcomputer's console. A map of North America popped up on the huge monitor, marked with a half-dozen green crosses.

"What am I looking at here?" Ranma asked.

"Lazarus Pits."

Ranma looked at his mentor sharply. "Seriously?"

Bruce nodded. "As you know, while you were in Japan safeguarding Akane, I was taking steps to protect her and the Tendos against future threats from Demon. Finding the locations of Ra's' Lazarus Pits was a part of my preparations."

"I see," said Ranma. He grinned wickedly. "We take out those Pits, we hurt Ra's. Make him have to choose whether gaining control of Akane is worth losing the ability to cheat death." Bruce smiled and shot him with a finger gun. "I like this. When do we start?"

"Not for a while. I need to make further preparations before making a move of this magnitude. Also, I don't want either you or Robin involved in this." He held up a hand before Ranma could protest. "Akane isn't ready for something like this. Not yet. And if we both go she'll be undefended. I need you to stay as a reserve when I begin."

The younger man frowned, tugging at his ponytail. "Okay," he finally said. "But I don't like the idea of you storming Demon strongholds without backup. You going to call in the JLA for this?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't think Clark and the others will be comfortable with an aggressive seek-and-destroy mission. I'm considering implementing a plan I've had gestating." Bruce hit the console again, opening a new file.

"Project: Outsiders," Ranma muttered. "Jefferson Pierce; Jack Ryder; Rex Mason... you're thinking of setting up your own super-team?"

"Yes. Something of a shadow-ops outfit in comparison to the open nature of the Justice League."

"I see..." Ranma fell silent for a moment, contemplating the screen. "Small roster."

"I have a few more potential recruits in mind. I need to do some further research before I approach them."

Ranma nodded. He let out a sigh, his tense posture relaxing. "Alright. I feel better about things now. I do wish I could help you, though. I really want to hand some payback to Ra's al Ghul."

"You'll get a chance in the future." Bruce stood and gave Ranma a friendly slap on the shoulder. "I'm heading up to sack out. You staying downstairs?"

"Ah, yeah." Ranma ducked his head and looked away. "Just in case Akane needs anything, you know?"

Bruce smiled, not bothering to bring up the fact that Alfred was going to be standing vigil over their junior partner for the rest of the night. "Very well. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You failed me," said Talia al Ghul. Lightning flashed in her green eyes, and her lovely face was harsh with fury.

Jervis Tetch arched an eyebrow. If he felt any trepidation in the face of this deadly woman's anger he did not show it. "My dear Queen of Hearts, I did no such thing. I performed exactly as you requested. I provided the distraction, drawing both Batman and Nightwing out of position for several minutes. It is not my fault if your minions could not capitalize on that."

Talia bared her teeth and nodded once before swiveling her gaze to Kozaku. The assassin knelt before her mistress, head bowed low. She felt the burning look of the Daughter of the Demon bear down upon her and swallowed hard.

"Her will was stronger than we anticipated, Mistress," said Kozaku. "She resisted my command, despite the compulsion of the Master's seal. And before we could take further steps, Nightwing appeared -"

"And you fled from like a wretched, honorless coward, not even offering a token attempt of battle."

Kozaku pressed her head against the stone. "Please Mistress, have mercy on your servant!"

"Go!" Talia commanded. "Leave my sight. I'll deal with you as you deserve later."

The assassin rose and fled. Talia breathed in sharply through her nose and looked at the Mad Hatter with little favor. "Your payment will be at the agreed upon drop-site within the hour."

Tetch nodded, tipping his hat. "A pleasure, your majesty. Adieu." His image vanished from the flat-screen monitor.

Talia stood still for a few minutes, staring down at the floor, hands clenched at her sides. Finally she sighed, releasing the tension and anger holding her rigid.

"I am sorry, father."

"Do not worry, my dear daughter." Ra's al Ghul emerged from the shadows of the chamber, walking to stand next to his daughter, throwing a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

"Do not worry," he said again. "I am actually pleased, in a way, with how events have turned. The Detective and his apprentice are honing the abilities of my Wrath. Under their tutelage, she will become an even more formidable weapon to be added to my arsenal. Have no fear, Talia – Akane Tendo belongs to me. Sooner or later, she will serve me."

Ra's al Ghul smiled. His smile was a cold, deadly thing, utterly without mercy and humanity. "It is her destiny. Destiny can never be denied."

Author's Note: Thanks again to the wondrous Pursemonger for her pre-reading and enthusiastic support.