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.'

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The irony of course was that death was not what scared Omi. He thought again before he answered, this time in slow, basic Japanese, and a clarifying (rather than threatening) tone.

"I know your secret. You know my secret. Is that right?"

"More or less," Robin said blithely, splitting the difference between simple English and a kind of attitude nuance he just couldn't achieve in a language he wasn't fluent in. He switched to Japanese to make his point more clearly, "Anata, um, dai himitsu ga arimasu. Ookii himitsu. Something like that. Sore wa ii buki desu."

Wally nudged him with an elbow. "I'm even more of a Romance guy than you are, so..."

"I said he has a big secret. Or tried to. And that it's a good weapon," Robin said. "But here's the thing?" And he glared, full-tilt Batman-approved, right into the assassin's eyes. "I will not let you use it." From his utility belt, he pulled out a cloth gag, and mimed tying it around Wally's mouth. In Japanese, he added, "Simple, but it works."

Omi's hands were, after all, tied.

And he needed to be tried and convicted. Somehow. Robin spared a glance for the manor from whence they came-- or rather, the smoke and ash where it used to be. The body would be unidentifiable at this point, and...

"The forensics are history," Wally added, following his gaze. His uncle was a CSI, Batman was a detective-- between the two of them, they knew a thing or two about murder investigations. "I mean, your basic ways to link a murderer to a body are the weapons, which are gone; transfer evidence, which might still be present on this guy but everything to compare it to is gone. All that leaves is--"

"--Motive and M.O.," Robin agreed. "I have insight into both, but brain swaps are probably inadmissible in court."

"So are masks, usually," Wally deadpanned. "And you can't prove M.O. without linking him to the previous killings, which were also noticeably devoid of forensics. Absence of evidence isn't evidence of absence, but it's still absence of evidence. A total absence, from what I remember of the briefing these killings were something like a black hole, void of any evidence whatsoever."

"Which should be evidence in and of itself," Robin said. "From what I gathered during the mind meld, it's not that there was no evidence, it's that the evidence was likely suppressed. They got their marching orders from the chief of police, but he's since deceased."

A look of confusion crossed Omi's face through the first part of Robin's response. What he had actually said was that Omi was a big secret and a good weapon. Omi realized what he must have intended to say once Robin pulled out the gag, however.

It was a strange solution, though. Either Robin was sincerely posing something too short-sighted to be believed, or he thought him too stupid to realize as much.

Or, possibly, he had an alternative resolution for the long-term that he simply could not access right now. But Omi still had another card, too.

"How long will that work, I wonder," Omi answered, sticking to slow Japanese since it seemed they had found consensus that Robin would have the tough job of speaking non-native.

"That I might say it here isn't your problem. Your problem is that I can say it anytime, anywhere. Because of that, I see three choices for you. One, you kill me, and become a murderer. Two, you imprison me for life yourself-- no trial, no law-- and become a kidnapper. Three, we talk, and find a solution that works for both of us."

He paused to give Robin time to translate and absorb that, then met his eyes without fear.

"What will you do?"

Had to be Japanese, Robin thought bitterly.

"You know I'm conversant in three dialects of French, right," he said conversationally, nudging Wally in the arm.

"I was aware, yeah. Which is three more than I can do, if it makes you feel better."

"It doesn't, but thanks for trying." He pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd needed both Omi's given break and the pause to assert his own linguistic prowess in order to get decently sure of his translation.

He understood kill, and no, I'm not sinking to your level. He tried to distance himself from the feeling that he could have, if it wasn't for Bruce. He had been angry enough, back then.

He understood "no trial, no law" fairly well. He could guess at that.

It was a bit of a constraint, the lack of noble options. He wasn't killing anyone and he wasn't a kidnapper. Some kind of deal was not outside the realm of possibility, however. Even his family's murderers had been offered a plea deal.

He started walking, and Wally, throwing the assassin roughly over his shoulder, followed.

"Anything you say," he said, his Japanese slow and formal, "I can say, too. You have... um, comrades. The Justice League can arrest them on my word. We have a treaty with the United Nations. We can arrest--" God, how do I say this? He switched to English, "with justification."

"We need psychic translation," Wally interjected, picking up speed.

"Almost there," Robin agreed. Back to Japanese: "No good for court, but the League will believe me if I say--" He tapped his forehead, and pointed back to Omi. "That's enough to buy time for the League to investigate further."

Omi grunted as a shoulder dug into his stomach. Tied hand and foot, he couldn't struggle much, but he did remember he still had his mouth dart, and now a clean shot at his carrier's backside to boot.

He did not act on it yet, however, reluctant to heighten tensions when his true aim was to work towards reducing them. With that in mind, he was not impressed with the suggested threat to his friends. It didn't sound like Robin was receptive to negotiating, but Omi wanted to try one more appeal. That ground Robin stood on was not as solid as he seemed to think it was. Either that or he knew it wasn't but was as much of a bluffer as Omi.

"You can do all of that, but it helps nothing for you if I retaliate with revealing you. You can't return from that point. Are you really going to provoke me? I don't want to endanger you like that..."

He believed that, oddly enough. Whatever twisted things the assassin did, he believed he acted for the sake of justice. Endangering sidekicks was not just, ergo...

But while the threat was bloodcurdling, a threat not to Robin so much as to Bruce, which was unpardonable, he shrugged.

"If you reveal me, you reveal Batman," he said indifferently. "Batman -- or, let's be real, Bruce Wayne -- has resources. He finds a secret identity more convenient, but if you think everyone suddenly knowing he's Batman means he can't bribe the Japanese police force to take a second look at the cases your boss was covering up, well..."

They'd manage. "This isn't a chess match, much as I would prefer it to be. This is ping-pong. Anything you serve me, I hit back twice as hard."

He tapped his radio earpiece. "Robin to Batman. Rendezvous at my coordinates. We have a prisoner."

Edited 2014-12-09 02:14 (UTC)

Omi wanted to persist. That still didn't address the real problem. Batman and Robin, like Weiss, had a lot of enemies. The secret identities helped protect them, and that protection was something they could never get back, once it was exposed. But there was something else that stole his attention instead. He froze, at the mention of his boss and covering up and the police, suddenly unsure exactly how much information Robin already had on Weiss. And infinitely more nervous for that realization.

He should have realized it earlier given the stake-out. They'd been ambushed... they knew where they were striking and when. He just hadn't. Things had swiftly moved from one surprise to another and before any such reflection could take place, he was slung over Red Suit's shoulder trying to bargain with someone that, under any other circumstances, he'd probably have been downright honored to get to meet.

He didn't understand a word of the radio communication except 'Robin to Batman.' Realizing Robin was no longer paying attention and trying to draw Weiss to a rescue would more likely put them at greater risk of being captured with him, he let himself go limp in resignation, though the bitterness of giving up was plain across his face.

"Don't hit so hard that you miss the table," he mumbled.

"Acknowledged," said Batman, briskly, already lowering the Bio-Ship for the two girls.

It was quick work to get Robin, Kid Flash, and the assassin on board. He was startlingly young, and not at all happy. Batman's curiosity was piqued, but he probably needed to debrief the boys before getting his questions answered.

Miss Martian shifted a spare seat and restraints from the Bio-Ship. Robin was a sight more thorough in checking the restraints than he singularly needed to be, and that was cause for concern.

His request to speak privately, after eyeing Wally briefly, was, too.

Getting real privacy wasn't viable. They'd have to do with speaking low and trusting the team not to eavesdrop. The prisoner, he wasn't sure about-- he was young, and Bruce was about to suggest they speak French as a precaution -- Dick's Quebecois could use some more work -- but Dick cut him off, clearly wanting to get the thing over with.

"Unforeseen complication," he began, and Batman could detect a slight trace of negativity. Pinning down the kind of negativity was a bit more difficult.

"Two psychics, I'm guessing rivals of the assassins', because our new friend tried to get me to run from them."

Batman nodded.

"Also because they, um, attacked him. And me. I saw--" he broke off, would not make eye contact, and Batman wondered if that negativity he'd sensed was disappointment in himself? Dick wasn't prone to shame. Dick was, in fact, rather shameless. "Um, pretty much his whole life story. He saw mine. So."

"He knows."

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't," Batman said, a bit brusquely, but not really attaching any weight to it. "You would have fought it off if you could have."

"Something like that," the boy wonder mumbled. Still wasn't making eye contact, but Batman would have to sort him out later.

He cleared his throat. "So it's a stalemate as far as leverage goes--"

"--Right, because any evidence we might have had kinda blew up, and the accomplices got away. The other psychics neutralized Miss Martian and Zatanna, and KF and I might be good--"

"But this is a little out of your league, without some backup," Batman finished. "I'll see what I can do."

"He says he wants to cooperate," Dick added, wanting to fix things. "I didn't-- didn't want to make any deals I can't back up, and I don't think he'd agree to patiently wait out a jail term..."

"I'll see what I can do," Batman repeated. He ruffled Dick's hair mainly as an afterthought, trying to combat some of that negativity. "Go check on M'gann and Zatanna, make sure there's no permanent damage. Try to keep them from paying attention to the assassin and I."

Omi shuddered when the Bio-Ship appeared, color draining from his face as he realized that on top of Batman, Robin and Red Suit, the two girls were on board, too. Even if he hadn't been tied, even if he still had his weapons, five on one with Batman and Robin being two was impossible. His stomach hurt; he felt cold and horribly alone. And, under that, he recognized that he was afraid. Not for his life or his future, but for what they knew. What they might yet find out through him. And, most of all, what was to become of Kritiker, and the nameless innocents who would lose it as an ally against the city's monsters. What if it were dissolved? What if it was his fault?

He kept quiet and still, making no attempt to struggle or even meet the eyes of his captors while brought aboard. Half of it was despair, half a last-minute planning session for what, if anything, he could or should say. The ship was probably equipped with sound recording, and even if it wasn't, there were five witnesses. But he ought to try to find out what they knew already, while revealing as little as he could in return.

Yeah. That was a brilliant plan. Who do you think you're dealing with, Omi? It's Batman. And he's playing on home field now that you're on his ship. But there had to be something he could do...!

Then the chair appeared and Omi tensed, almost protesting but what good was that going to do? So instead, it was watching with dread as he was taken over and secured to it. He felt his breath quickening. He grit his teeth, bowed his head, focused on trying to control it. He felt claustrophobic. His memory flashed: kidnappers, tied up, gagged, leaning back against a wall as they reached...

Edited 2014-12-09 06:39 (UTC)

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...

[KBP] Nightfall

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