synergetic | [KBP] Nightfall

[KBP] Nightfall

'Perimeter secure,' M'gann reported, for about the fifth time that night.

She heard Robin's equally routine "Good work," and settled back in front of a post near the rear entrance. They'd spent most of the afternoon tearing their hair out, trying to find where M'gann would be most ready to restrain the assassins.

That assassins were involved at all was... not wholly new, nor even unexpected, but still not exactly what they'd been briefed for. Strange deaths, yes, with archaic, distinctive weapons, but that this was an organized, practiced, efficient force... well, that was disturbing.

It was uncomfortable to acknowledge. They did ensure that the bad guys would never act again-- something the League could never guarantee, not while Lex Luthor was rich, Ra's al Ghul was immortal, and Queen Bee was an absolute dictator. Not while Hugo Strange was running Belle Reve, and how long had that gone on?

It made her... doubt herself. Doubt their methods. Batman and Robin both had been quick to disabuse her of that idea, and she'd felt such a strong passion from them that she'd had to dampen the link to avoid reading too deeply into their minds, and while she believed their words, especially about justice, rehabilitation, and just--just the possible error of killing an innocent because how could you ever be sure, well.

They did ensure the bad guys would never act again.

'Sweeping again throughout my telepathic range,' she said, and she felt Robin's amusement.

'Wow, you're preempting me,' he laughed. 'Maybe I should take a nap.'

'Dude, I would so kill you, Wally answered, and he made a good show of sounding serious. 'Time zones are bad enough when all of you guys live on the East Coast and I'm in the Midwest. This other side of the planet thing is brutal.'

At least they were still joking. That meant she was safe to keep musing, so long as she didn't lose sight of the mission.

It was a large, grand house, and Zatanna was inside, performing at a get-together for the owner and his friends. Hitting the beat in the local underworld, the owner had tenuous links to an organization that would kidnap middle-class girls and sell them into prostitution somewhere in Europe. Nothing could be proven -- not even by Batman -- but the links were there, and he had a lot in common with the victims of the sudden deaths Batman had been looking into.

They'd been watching for a few days, sometimes M'gann shapeshifted into a generic, unnoticeable housemaid to get closer, and hoping that this group wouldn't target anyone else. It wasn't particularly efficient, but they had to try.

Had to-- and there it was.

'Miss Martian to team. At the very edge of my range, north-north-east quadrant of the estate. Unfamiliar minds approaching.'

'North-north-east,' Robin repeated. 'Public records show nothing but unspoiled forestry there, although my satellite scan registered a higher-than-norm heat signature.'

He paused.

'Don't move in just yet. Guy's still inside. But take your places, everyone. It's showtime.'

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There was something frustrating about the fact that the assassin boy was easier to read than the one he'd raised, but he doubted it was his own fault. It was more that the assassin's problems were... overt.

"These Martian ships are a little unnerving," he said conversationally, guessing at the cause of distress. Distress was useful. And he let drop the fact that Bio-ship was alien in origin to establish a pattern: he had no reason to lie. After all, the aesthetics were obvious enough.

Bruce had studied Japanese for a number of reasons-- business, training, for his own amusement at times. He was fluent, though it took him quite a bit of concentration to control his accent.

He didn't like seeing kids in distress, so he kept his tone level. A little distress was useful for interrogation purposes, but anything that provoked too extreme of a reaction...

"I can dismiss the chair, if you'd prefer to stand."

It took Omi a couple of moments to register someone was talking in Japanese. And talking to him. A grown man's voice, too, deep and solid and composed. Omi knew without looking up who it must be.

In less distress, he might have questioned the offer, but in his present state he lacked the mind to. It was enough to get an answer out.

"Please..."

A combination touch and mental command, and with a wet, squelching sound, the chair and restrains shrunk into tendrils, and were reabsorbed by the Bio-ship.

"Can you talk to me for a while?"

Basic question. Neutral tone and stance. He was less and less feeling like this would be the kind of heavy arm twisting he excelled at. It was a relief. He didn't exactly enjoy terrifying the unholy hell out of people, despite a certain grim satisfaction in success that he felt was natural.

"I know some of what went on thanks to Robin and the others, although they seemed to feel I would be able to get a more clearer picture from you."

It wasn't a threat, exactly, but Batman trusted his reputation to precede him, even here.

"Teenage assassins aren't as rare as I'd like them to be, but you can imagine how disturbing it is to hear about all the same."

As the chair dissolved and he found himself slightly more mobile, Omi felt himself calming, leaving him to deal with the embarrassment and self-disgust of looking so weak as to have a panic attack from being put in a chair, of all stupid things.

But it mattered. Being tied up restricted his limbs, but it didn't lock him into a single place, a single position. It was the ability to run despite being tied that had saved him from the kidnappers all those years ago. He needed that power-- or that illusion of power-- as his one security. Never mind that with bound feet running wasn't any more an option than in the chair. It didn't trap him.

He looked around and inchwormed to the nearest wall, situating himself to be sitting upright with its support while keeping his gaze lowered the whole way.

"Sumanai," he offered quietly, deliberately opting for the word that could be taken as Thank You, Excuse Me, or I'm Sorry. All were appropriate.

It was not helpful to his position to be acting with such downcast avoidance. Look powerless, and you'll be taken as powerless, rather than as possessing a rather potent bargaining chip and being quite prepared to make threats with it. Omi couldn't help it. He felt incredibly small face to face with Batman himself, and he somehow doubted that was only because of the difference in stature. Batman had presence. He held an invisible force over the air around him, the kind of poise and terse coolness Omi had so often admired in Aya, only 10,000 times stronger. While Omi hadn't wanted to play hardball with Robin, he was downright averse to it with Batman. Nothing good would come of going up against him.

Besides, Batman wasn't evil. If it were the target that had him tied up in a corner wanting information, it would be a different story altogether, no matter how commanding the aura. Batman was a hero, a vigilante for justice that stopped the ones the law couldn't catch, and Omi respected him. Desperately wished not to be under his interrogation right now, but respected him.

So his voice stayed quiet, and his head stayed bowed. He couldn't betray Kritiker, but to the extent that line wasn't crossed, he entertained no ideas of causing difficulty.

He debated what-- if anything-- to say back to Batman's commentary about teenaged assassins. Anything that acknowledged himself as one was incriminating evidence. That was bad. Thus, a pause ensued before he replied.

"Certainly," he voiced, as that did not implicate so much as communicate simple understanding. And, before anything further, Omi wanted to establish one fact of critical importance. He lifted his gaze to Batman's eyes for the first time, though the expression held no challenge.

"I have the right to remain silent... correct?"

"You do," said the Batman. "You can remain silent as long as you'd like."

With only the most minimal nod, another chair-like apparatus formed at his mental command, and he sat down. He didn't spell it out, but the implication was clear: Omi was free not to talk, but Batman was going to be waiting for him to do so, and wasn't in any particular rush. He'd had the foresight to bring along an employee who could handle his business interests here, and wouldn't be terribly surprised to receive a call saying that he and Dick were playing hooky and hopped on a bullet train to see the sights, see you back home.

"But this will go easier if you talk to me, I assure you. Under the Justice League's United Nations charter, I have a certain amount of autonomy so long as I keep the Japanese police apprised. If I say I'm questioning a person of interest in connection to an investigation, that'll buy me some time. You're more than welcome to remain silent for the duration."

Edited 2014-12-15 05:45 (UTC)

Omi dropped his gaze again as Batman answered, not wishing to hold eye contact so long that it seemed aggressive. He understood the implication, but that didn't make betraying his friends any more feasible. He'd die before he did that.

"How long?"

"I have it on good authority that you killed someone," was the blunt response. "That's a crime that needs to be solved. If you could give me an alibi that's more reliable than the testimony of Robin and Kid Flash, as well as Zatara's daughter and the Martian Manhunter's niece, then you would be on your way."

But he clearly doubted the likelihood of that.

Edited 2014-12-15 06:05 (UTC)

A dodge. Either he didn't know or he didn't want him to know. And regardless of which it was, that statement issued instead was not something he could respond to directly. Whatever you do, don't self-incriminate.

Well, if Batman was allowed to reply with an evasion, he should be too.

"Your Japanese is very good." Because that was a common thing to say to any foreigner who spoke even half-passably. And it was true.

"Robin's isn't, I know," he said mildly. "I studied in Japan for many years, while he's only had me to teach him. I was thinking he might benefit from some immersion."

And Omi understood that, too. They could arrange to be here for quite some time if that was what it took.

"There really isn't much I can tell you."

"You could tell me why my partner thinks you're a murderer." It was the obvious response and really, it was what he was obviously after. "He might have a little too much fun doing what we do, but he takes his job seriously and he'd never implicate someone unless he really believed they were guilty of murder. I have no reason to doubt him. Certainly nothing from you."

Edited 2014-12-15 06:37 (UTC)

No, he couldn't. He couldn't tell him why because the answer was obvious. There was absolutely nothing Omi could say that would help his case on that front. Batman had implied as much himself. Of course he was going to trust Robin over him. As he should. They were partners.

The statement still made him cringe a little. Yeah. He was a murderer. He killed that man because allowing him to continue his shadow business ripping the lives away from innocent girls was unpardonable. Omi didn't like what it made him, but he accepted it if that was the price it took to stop him. Sorry, Batman, but we don't have one of you in Tokyo, and we have to recognize you can't be everywhere at once.

He let his head drop a little lower. He said nothing.

It was a bit easier when he wasn't looking at him, Batman found. He didn't take joy in the accusation, or pride.

"You clearly understand the difference between right and wrong," he concluded, trying to sound sympathetic. "Most people do, and choose to ignore it, suffering no ill effects, but that's not you, is it? I can tell you're troubled by this. You don't kill out of self-interest, which was my initial thought after I began investigating all of these criminals who'd gotten away for years suddenly dropping dead all over the country. Most of their crimes had passed through the jurisdiction of Shuichi Takatori at some point or another, until he was finally killed by his brother. My initial thought was that Reiji Takatori was having his brother take out his competition, as it were. I have a lot of experience with corrupt officials in Gotham."

And at that, Omi sat up and stiffened with a look torn between shock and horror. Those names, and that context... it wasn't completely accurate, but it had enough accurate detail to be alarming. He shifted his gaze warily to Batman, taking his time to find the proper way to phrase what he wanted to say.

"Maybe it would be helpful to both of us if you told me what you already know first..."

The grim satisfaction of success. Satisfaction, yes, but not entirely rewarding.

Batman inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the request. "As much as I'd like to," he began, "when criminals who have successfully, consistently evaded conviction suddenly start dying off, I can't believe there's a good reason for it. So I began investigating, and the commonalities I found linking the cases were odd. None of the murders were being actively investigated by the police and not a single shred of evidence had been recorded. Your police chief couldn't hide the fact that the murders happened in most cases, but he completely shut down investigations enough times to make me suspicious. When I found out he and his brother, as well as all four of his brother's children, had both been murdered, by something as archaic as a sword, no less, it seemed clear to me that something deeper was going on.

"But even the most determined criminal can't get away clean every time. Takatori suppressed evidence, but there were enough cops who were open to my... persuasions, and let me analyze their undocumented evidence. Several of the criminals murdered were also by sword, and often, the victims of the sword would be along people who'd been hanged, strangled, cut with a series of knives, or shot through with arrows."

Omi listened to most of that in grim silence. Okay. Batman basically knew that a small group of assassins existed and what weapons they used. He knew that the police chief was involved until his murder. And he knew that all of the targets were themselves vile criminals. That last bit might anger him later, but for now, Omi's attention caught more on a bit of mere passing information. He looked confused.

"Four...?" He asked himself. Hirofumi. Masafumi. Ouka...

Batman frowned-- although it would be hard to notice.

"From my research, Shuichi Takatori was a lifelong bachelor, but his brother had three sons with his wife, and a daughter with his mistress. The eldest son was said to have died in a car accident, but I have crime scene photographs that show he was impaled beforehand. The second-eldest's body was never recovered, so I can only conjecture, but the daughter was shot shortly after, while the youngest son died years before during a kidnapping."

And given the recent revelations about Roy Harper, that stirred up all kinds of impotent, paternal rage-- and fear. He remembered back when they thought they'd found Roy, and the months Oliver spent searching, he'd been indefatigable, but -- now they knew -- so out of his mind with grief that he'd been strung along just where the Light wanted him.

He remembered being told Harper was missing, and the first thing he'd done was run up to Dick's room to make sure he was still there. He hadn't quite realized, up until that moment, just what Dick was to him, and from that moment forward to when Dick got the brilliant idea to investigate Cadmus out of spite, he'd never, ever allowed himself any kind of uncertainty when it came to knowing exactly where the boy was at all times.

Omi stayed quiet. Batman was wrong. That had to be a rare thing for him. But he was. Maybe in the sense that the boy that went by the name Mamoru Takatori died in that incident, but in the sense most people talked about when referring to death, it wasn't true.

The question was, did he speak up. Omi did not particularly care to confide such traumatic and private information about himself. He'd never even told Weiss about the kidnapping. He was also curious. What did Batman know about it? Did he maybe know something that he himself didn't?

What will it be, Omi. Risk exposure for the chance to learn more, or stay quiet, and pass it by?

"That kidnapping... What happened? Do you know?"

Why didn't Papa pay...?

The thing Batman wanted right then was eye contact. A head-on look at his reactions.

"Why would you be interested?" he asked, finally, after a long contemplation. He had a theory. It might explain why one brother had killed the other.

"Do you know something about who was behind the kidnapping already?"

It might also explain the ransom... he'd followed the case, discreetly. He'd been in Tokyo at the time, attending a conference for WayneTech. If Reiji knew his brother was the kidnapper, perhaps he also knew that refusing to pay the ransom wouldn't lead to the boy's death. And, therefore...

Edited 2014-12-16 04:39 (UTC)

Omi continued to avoid that eye contact. If it were possible, he probably would have shrunk into the wall itself. His kidnapping and the subsequent refused ransom was a source of shame that ran as deep as his yearning to understand why it had been necessary. Parents loved their kids unconditionally, didn't they? Why had his stopped? What had he done?

"Not really..." He never knew their names, and half the time couldn't remember their faces. And while this might be a preferable subject to Weiss and Kritiker, that didn't make him eager to get into it. He'd just wanted to see if Batman knew why he'd been abandoned. To know about Weiss, he had to be a good detective, and he'd clearly done some research on his family's history too. It was probably wishful thinking.

Eyes narrowing, he was struck by how strongly the kid was reacting and trying not to react at the same time.

The boy worked for Shuichi Takatori. Was he about the right age?

"Why did you react to it?"

He was pressing, and mercilessly, he was aware. But he needed some sort of rapport with the assassin in order to get anywhere, and get the really important information.

And he was... well. He sympathized, somewhat. He could understand all too painfully the temptation to kill, to really put an end to things, but at the same time, if you go there, how do you go back? Killing was a remarkably easy thing to do-- shooting someone in the chest was much simpler, much less time consuming. Pragmatism was enticing, sometimes, and he was so young. Maybe he hadn't had Bruce's resources.

He thought about Dick, a particularly snap decision he made one day, in one moment of intense empathy, and quite possibly the most worthwhile thing he'd done with his life and resource. Simple multiplication, it stood to reason, and--

He might be acting, the Batman had to remind himself. He seems worn down, but it might be an act. He might not really be remorseful, but that's all the more reason to press harder.

Omi wanted this subject to drop. He wanted all of the subjects to drop. He thought again about that foolish moment he chose to stay and help against Schuldig, rather than run with Youji and leave them to fend for themselves. If only he had gone with him.

What were his friends doing now, he wondered. Were they looking for him? Had they escaped? Run into the other half of Schwarz? He hoped they were okay.

He flinched a little from the press of the question, having no solid answer he could offer that wasn't the harsh, humiliating truth. It wasn't made any easier by the way Batman seemed to loom even from the chair in which he sat. He was high compared to Omi's position on the floor, one he had admittedly opted for himself.

Irrationally, he felt as though he must be in trouble for being the taken son, too-- asking about it, at least. He worked his jaw as though seeking the start of his answer, but it was several seconds before he finally voiced it.

"I just thought you might know. To know about it at all..." He must have looked into it. Omi wouldn't have expected Batman to be the least aware if he hadn't mentioned it himself. But since he had-- except Omi realized now, there was hardly a reason for Batman to care about that, was there? He was investigating Weiss, not some disappearance from six years ago.

"Sorry. I can see that was mistaken."

It still wasn't much of an explanation, but it was all Omi could muster.

Edited 2014-12-16 23:45 (UTC)

"Yes, but why do you care?"

He leaned forward, arms and weight on his knees. Still trying for that eye contact.

"I know a thing or two about it, and suspect others," he said, slowly. "Robin told me about what happened."

A trace of discomfort slipped through in his tone. Batman was a construction of precision, and to know that anyone might be able to look behind the curtain, so to speak... With Dick, it was fine. Dick understood. But others...

"Putting children in danger is not a thing I tolerate." He wondered if that would make the assassin more likely to trust him. "If you know what he knows, then you know. It struck a little close to the heart, for me-- and, to be honest, something about the whole affair wasn't right. Most of the Takatori family died recently, but, aside from the youngest son, the mother died shortly after. It was ruled a suicide, but it could have been staged. I wonder if Reiji Takatori killed his brother in revenge for him kidnapping his son and murdering his wife."

Omi managed to stay silent at the continued press for why he cared about the kidnapping or what Batman might know of it. It was easy to avoid, to ignore, questions and statements about him.

Statements about people he loved, however, would get him every time.

He noticed the shift in tone and though he still kept his head turned, he did listen more attentively. For Robin to have told Batman what happened, that could only mean Batman knew that Omi was aware of his real identity. And the sheer finality of that statement-- if you know, then you know-- sounded like Omi must value their secret identities more than they did. That couldn't be true...

But then the conversation shifted again, to his mother. To his father. To Shuuichi. Omi's eyes grew wide with shock at the theory that was so wildly, insultingly wrong, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd snapped his head up to eye contact.

"He didn't do either of those--!" Shit.

The sentence broke off. Omi grit his teeth, and turned his head again.

"He wasn't the kidnapper..."

"And you know this," he said, a touch of irony, "and you react so strongly to it, because it has nothing to do with you."

He looked straight into the boy's eyes. Utterly disbelieving. Grim, unsatisfying satisfaction.

It was true. An incorrect theory would have produced indignation; a correct one, shock. Either could have provoked an outburst, and not everyone can control them.

"Given your age, you could only know that if you were, in fact, Mamoru Takatori. And you're also an assassin who took orders from the police chief, your uncle, up until his death."

He's got the pieces, still trying to fit together the puzzle.

[KBP] Nightfall

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