Author’s note:  I only just recently discovered that my profile prohibited anonymous reviews.  This was not intentional and has been fixed.  So if you avoided reviewing earlier chapters because of this, please feel free to go back and do so.  I’d really like to get some feedback on this.  Thanks a bunch and enjoy!Part IV

“Terry!  Your breakfast is getting cold.”

“I’ll be right out,” Terry McGinnis shouted back to his mother.  He had just finished showering and was vigorously rubbing his jet-black hair with a towel as he emerged from the bathroom, dressed only from the waist down.

Making a beeline to the kitchen via the living room, he stopped suddenly when the words coming from the talking head on the web screen struck him.  “…Gotham PD announced early this morning that the identity of the charred remains discovered last Tuesday is in fact Paxton Powers, son of the late Derek Powers and former CEO of Wayne-Powers Industries.  Powers Junior has been out of the public eye since mysteriously turning over all shares of Wayne-Powers to fellow stockholder Bruce Wayne almost four months ago, giving Wayne controlling interest in the company for the first time in twenty years.  GPD is not revealing whether or not this will be treated as a homicide.  Now for the weather…”

Mouth hanging open, Terry let the towel drop to a heap on the floor as predictions for the hottest day this summer went unheard.  Paxton Powers dead?  It was too surreal.

“Terry?” Mary McGinnis called, poking her head into the living room.  “Anything wrong?”

“Ah, no Mom.  I just gotta get going a little earlier.  I’m afraid I’ll have to skip breakfast.”

“Why?  Your classes don’t start for an hour and a half.”

“Yeah, I know, but I just remembered I promised Mr. Wayne I’d pick up some suits from the cleaners and deliver them first thing.  He’ll be disappointed if I don’t.”

Mary looked quizzically at him.  “Dry cleaning?  What does he need suits for, he never leaves the house?”

Terry shrugged.  “He’s old Mom, I’ve got to humor him.”  He turned quickly and made his way to his bedroom before his mom could question him anymore.  He sighed as he threw on the rest of his clothes.  Something like this was bound to happen.  Bruce should have known better.  He should have known better.  Kendra belonged in jail.

Grabbing the backpack, he skipped out of the apartment quickly yelling goodbye to his mother and Matt, but closing the door before they could respond.  In the elevator he pulled out the cell phone and pressed speed dial 1.

“Wayne.”

“It’s me.  Have you seen the news?”

There was a brief pause, then, “Yes.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Terry demanded.

“What do you suggest I do, Terry?” Bruce responded in a deceptively soft voice.  Terry knew he should be on alert, but he was too keyed up to pay attention to the warning signs.

“Well putting Kendra behind bars would be a good first step.”  He was seething.  If Bruce hadn’t protected her after her stint as a killer vigilante, Powers would still be alive.  How far was he going to let her go?

“You’re assuming she’s guilty already.”

“Of course I am!”

“Then there’s nothing else to talk about.”

“There’s a whole hell of a lot to talk about Bruce.  This is not going away.  I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Don’t bother, I was just on my way out to meet with Barbara Gordon.”

“Are you going to tell her everything?”

“I’m not going to tell her anything, she’s going to give me information.  Get to class, I’ll see you this evening.”  The phone went dead in Terry’s hand.  He barely registered the elevator doors opening.

Automatically, he walked out of the building and into the connecting garage, thoughts running around his brain.  The motorcycle waited for him.  He stared at it contemplatively.  He was charged up emotionally, unsure if he should act or not.  A look at his watch told him it was still too early to head to the university, where he was taking summer journalism courses, inspired, by all things, his meeting Superman last year.  In an effort to decide what to do for a living, it had occurred to him a reporter was expected to hang around newsworthy events.  It would be useful for Batman to have legitimate access to crime scenes.

He decided there had to be something Bruce was hiding.  No way he could continue to defend Kendra, considering everything she was capable of.  Terry had to find out what it was that kept the old man so blind to the truth.  Jumping on the ‘Cycle, he roared out of the garage and headed up towards the manor.

“Commissioner, there’s a gentleman to see you,” the voice coming from the intercom spoke.

“Does he have an appointment?” Barbara Gordon asked with a frown, knowing good and well she had no appointments this morning.

“Ah, no ma’am, but he said you’ll want to see him.  It’s about the Powers case.”

“I’ve specifically asked not to be disturbed.”  She was personally overseeing the Powers death and had been at her desk since long before dawn.  She was in no mood for reporters or well-meaning citizens with information that may or may not be salient.  “Have him speak to Detective Leonine.”

There were a few moments of silence, and then the voice returned.  “I’m sorry to bother you Commissioner, but he’s insisting.  He says his name is Bruce Wayne.”

Barbara chuckled softly to herself before replying, “Let him wait ten minutes then send him in.”

Returning to her file, she was lost in thought when the door finally opened ten minutes later.  Her secretary escorted Bruce in, and with a slight nod Barbara dismissed her.  Gesturing towards the chair facing her desk, she remarked, “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised too see you Bruce.  How’s the head?” she asked, noting the smaller bandage he sported covering the injury he’d sustained in a car accident a few weeks before.

“You should have called me, Barbara,” he growled, cutting right past pleasantries.

Her eyes narrowed.  “I work for the city of Gotham, not for you.”  They glared at each other for several tense moments, and then Barbara sighed and glanced out the window.  “I only just found out myself late last night.”

“What happened?”

“No one even knew he was back in town.  The airport reports he passed through customs late Sunday night.  The, ah, remains were found by a maid, who had been coming weekly since he left.  That was Tuesday afternoon.  A small amount of organic material was found and enabled forensics to make a positive DNA match.  The rest was completely incinerated.”

“He was murdered?”

“Well if he wasn’t it was spontaneous combustion, which the experts agree is damn near impossible.  If someone did kill him, it’s an amazing weapon they used.”  She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the desk.  “He was so completely burned dental records were useless, but other than a slight scorching of the carpet where the body was found, there was no other evidence of fire.  None, not even smoke damage.”  She sat back in the chair and waited.

“What are you keeping from me?”

Barbara pursed her lips.  After all this time he could still read her like a book.  She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag.  “This was found in the same room, under the sofa.”  Opening it, she dumped the contents into her hand and held it across the desk for him to take.  He frowned as he accepted the jewelry from her.  “Frankly, I don’t recall you ever looking that young,” she spoke quietly.

He opened the locket and gave the picture inside a cursory glance.  “It was before your time.”

“The woman doesn’t look familiar.  Who was she?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.  She’s been dead for a long time.”  After a deep breath he said, “She was Kendra’s grandmother.”

Barbara nodded.  “I figured as much.”  She returned to business mode and asked, “Do you remember the last time you saw Kendra wearing it?”

He frowned and shook his head.  “She often wears it under her clothing.  I wouldn’t know.”

She found herself almost feeling sorry for him.  “Well, it’s not conclusive, Bruce.  She did have a prior relationship with him; there could be a perfectly logical explanation.  However…” her voice trailed off.

His eyes were sharp and they looked at her.  “What?”

“According to telephone records Paxton made one call shortly after returning home.  Would you like to guess where he called?”

“My house.”

“That would be correct.  I don’t suppose you spoke with him?”  He shook his head.  She laced her fingers together.  “I just received a report from Interpol.  There was a scene in a restaurant in London.  Witnesses report lots of shouting and it did escalate into violence.”

“He hit her?” Bruce asked in a low voice.

Shaking her head Barbara replied, “No, she slapped him and threw a wine glass.  I’m going to have to bring her in for questioning, you know.”

“When?”

“Immediately.  She’s our best and only lead so far.”

“Are you charging her?”

“Bruce, I’ve only spoken with you so far out of respect for our past and the relationship you had with my father, but I can’t go any further.  I suggest you start shopping for lawyers.”

“Let me bring her in.”  Barbara hesitated, unsure of what he was asking her.  “Let me convince her to come in voluntarily.”

“Bruce…” she began.

The corners of his lips turned up in what some may consider a smile.  Barbara Gordon knew better.  “Think of the bad publicity my company would be served by seeing the president led out by police.  Stock prices would plummet.”

So he was pulling the businessman gambit.  “One hour Bruce.  If she’s not in this building in one hour, I’m sending out an entire squad, your bad publicity be damned.  Understood?”

Wayne stood up.  “Thank you, Barbara.”

“You’ll have to leave that here,” she said nodding towards his hand.  “I’ll see that it’s returned to you once the investigation is over.”  He tossed the locket onto the desk in front of her.  “One hour,” she reminded once more as he walked out of the office.

Staring at the closed door she chewed the inside of her lip.  This was going to be a long, long day.

Terry slipped the backpack off his shoulder and sat down in front of the large computer.  Ace, possibly curious as to what the young man was up to, sat next to him.  Terry glanced down at the dog.  “You’re going to have to keep this a secret, Mutt, or no Scooby snacks for you.”  Ace licked his nose in response.  “Good boy,” Terry muttered and turned his concentration to the task at hand.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with Bruce’s file system, having previously researched old cases hoping to increase his knowledge and become a better Batman.  Within seconds he was into the archives Bruce had set up, scrolling quickly past the old, closed files, with names like Penguin, Scarecrow, Clayface, and Catwoman.  His eyes caught on the file labeled simply ‘Joker’, and he shuttered involuntarily at the memory of having to face down the man that had ultimately broken the old bat family by his sheer evil.  But he also gave himself a mental pat on the back – he’d defeated the hideous clown at his own game.

He finally came to the name he’d been looking for: FireBrand.  Terry snorted as he opened the file, which caused Ace to look at him and shift on his paws.  “Sorry pup, but Bruce would maintain a file on a criminal while he lets her live in his house.  Anal to the end.”

Like all the others, Kendra’s file started out with description, known vital statistics and a picture when available.  There was a blurred shot of her on the rooftop where Terry had engaged her, taken from the video link in his cowl.  Notably absent from her file was a real name.  Was it possible the old man couldn’t find it in his heart to merge the two together, as if keeping them separate kept his guilt at bay?

The following section was a summary of modus operandi and a list of crimes.  Next was current status.  Bruce had actually entered, “At large, no longer a threat.”  “The old man’s finally flipped his lid, Ace, that’s the only explanation.  She’s the biggest threat of all of them.”

Lastly, each file generally contained a cross reference to other criminals they were known to associate with as a way of establishing alliances that required monitoring.  Terry was more than a little surprised to find a reference at the bottom of Kendra’s directing him to someone called the Phantasm.

In opening the new file, he discovered this person had committed a series of similar crimes almost fifty years ago.  Her real name was Andrea Beaumont and she had apparently murdered several mobsters who had been responsible for her father’s death.  Other than the similarities of the MO, Terry couldn’t understand what this woman had to do with Kendra until he saw a picture of her and his breath caught in his throat.  The smile, the eyes.  They were undoubtedly related.  It hit Terry like a ton of bricks.  This was her grandmother.

Terry backed out of the system and quickly departed the cave. 

The door to her office opened, but Kendra didn’t bother to turn around and greet the visitor.  Upon arriving this morning she had specifically told her secretary no one was to be admitted under any circumstance.  After hearing the news on the car radio during the morning commute she didn’t think she could face another human being for a while.

Lucky for her it wasn’t a human that stood silently waiting for her acknowledgement.

“Took you long enough,” she muttered, staring out the clear plexiglass that comprised the entire back wall of the office suite.  “Did you need to run a few errands before coming over to accuse me of murder?”

Even in the reflected image she could see the narrowing of his eyes and his lips purse together in an even tighter line.  Shoulders sagging she finally turned.  “That was low.  I’m sorry.”  If he noticed the redness of her eyes he didn’t make a show of it.

“I’ve been with Barbara Gordon all morning,” was his calm reply, as if commenting on the weather.

With a groan she sank into the chair behind her desk.  It was a nice chair, large and comfortable, but it could have been made of granite for all Kendra noticed.  “I suppose you spilled everything about me?”

“It didn’t come up in conversation,” he replied dryly.  She looked at him with astonishment and just a hint of skepticism.  In answer he said, “It doesn’t have any relevance.  For the time being.”

“You don’t think I did it?”

“There’s not enough evidence yet.”

She frowned at him, but said nothing, not sure whether or not to be relieved that her guilt wasn’t automatically assumed.  “What about Terry?” she asked instead.

It was Bruce’s turn to frown.  “What about him?”

“He knows.  And he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes he does.  He thinks I’m insane.”  They locked eyes for a moment.  “Really insane.  He’d like nothing better than to see me locked up and out of the way.  He could easily go to the cops.”

“I don’t think he’d go that far, regardless of his feelings towards you.”

Kendra shook her head in bewilderment until something finally occurred to her.  Bruce was an accessory after the fact.  She’d confessed her crimes to him and he’d kept quite.  When and if he told (and she had no illusions that he would hesitate for a second if he saw a true need) he would be turning himself in for prosecution as well.  Her guilt skyrocketed.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted.  “We don’t have time for this.  Barbara wants you for questioning.  She allowed me to convince you to come in willingly, but if we don’t return soon she’ll have you arrested.”

“Oh god,” she muttered, but rose from her chair and retrieved a coat from the adjoining closet.  “It’s always the disgruntled soon-to-be ex-wife who takes the rap, isn’t it?”

He didn’t bother to respond, and together they made their way out.  Once in the car and en route he casually asked, “Where’s your necklace Kendra?”

She stiffened and felt her skin turn to ice.  He wouldn’t normally concern himself with her accoutrements, even one as valuable as her grandmother’s locket.  He knew something.

“Don’t know,” she replied automatically, feeling like a sulky child.

“You haven’t lied to me before, why start now?”  She just shook her head.

The remainder of the trip passed in tense silence, and as they pulled up to the front of One Police Plaza Barbara Gordon appeared on the steps, surrounded by a cadre of uniformed officers.

The commissioner acknowledged Bruce with a barely perceptible nod and then turned to Kendra.  “Thank you for coming in voluntarily.”

“Voluntarily.  Right.”  She followed Gordon up the steps and into the lobby.  A man seated in a cluster of chairs popped up at the sight of them and came forward.

“Mrs. Powers?  I’m Thomas Haraday.  I’ll be your attorney.”

Kendra cast a questioning glance over her shoulder to Bruce, who simply nodded.  Looking back at the slender and bespectacled man who was at least four inches shorter than she and appeared not to have the ability to fight his way out of a paper bag, she said with a bright smile, “Lucky me.”  To Gordon she said, “Let’s get this circus sideshow going, shall we?”

Gordon, Kendra, Haraday, and three cops rode to the elevator to the twentieth floor and then proceeded to an interrogation room.

After the first few preliminary questions – name, age, address – the commissioner began the interview in earnest, and Haraday began a litany of “I’m advising my client not to answer” or “That is irrelevant to these proceedings” before Kendra could even open her mouth to answer.

Barbara was growing increasingly frustrated at having her questions rebuked and Kendra had the strange and most unpleasant sensation that she had suddenly gone mute.  Finally enough was enough and she stood abruptly from her chair.  “Shut up.  I do not need a mouthpiece; I am perfectly capable of speaking.  You can leave now.”

Thomas Haraday looked up at her like a child who just had his favorite toy snatched from his grasp.  “Mrs. Powers, you really must reconsider.  Anything said to the police at this point…”

“Can and will be used against me.  Yadda, yadda, yadda.  And it’s Ms. Baker, thank you.”  She grabbed his arm and hauled him from his seat, easily sending the frail man sailing towards the doorway.  “I’m sure you will be well compensated for your time.  As the old saying goes, ‘It’s been real and it’s been fun, but it ain’t been real fun.’  B’bye.”  With one final look of disdain he allowed one of the officers to escort him back down to the lobby.

Kendra turned back to Barbara who had watched the exchange with arms folded across her chest.  “You want to know what happened, have as seat.  This might take a while.”

It was Sunday evening.  Having just taken a bubble bath Kendra wore a simple bathrobe and her hair up in a towel.  She had finished a facial routine and was now starting to apply polish to her finger- and toenails.  She was spending a quiet evening alone in her room, as usual.  Tomorrow the week would start as they always did – with a board meeting.  She hated those meetings.  While the employees of Wayne-Powers treated her with an aloof respect, the executive members made no bones about their disregard for her.  She wasn’t sure if they hated her more for being Bruce’s granddaughter or Paxton’s wife.  Yet she still persisted, as much to stay in the old man’s good graces as to show she was worthy of the trust placed in her hands.

As she was carefully dabbing polish onto the toes of her left foot, the phone rang.  Since Bruce was down in the dungeon, she grabbed her extension.  “Hello,” she breathed into the receiver.

“It’s good to hear your voice, baby,” she soft reply came.

The shock of hearing Paxton’s voice caused her hand to slip, and a stripe of fuchsia appeared on the top of her foot.  “Why are you calling me?” she managed to ask, while wiping the smudge away before it dried.

“Now, now.  That’s no way to talk to your husband is it?”

“Soon to be ex-husband.  I presume you’ve gotten the court order?”

“Yes, and that was terribly unkind of you.  We should at least talk about this shouldn’t we?”

“We did Paxton.  I said, ‘Stop sleeping around, or else I’m leaving you.’  It was pretty straightforward I believe.”

“Darling, you know those girls meant nothing to me.”  She gave a snort, but said nothing.  “Kendra, dear,” he began in a more serious voice.  “This isn’t over yet.  I really must speak with you, but in person.  Tonight.”

With a laugh she replied, “Tonight?  I don’t think so, considering you’re about 1,000 miles away.”

“More like ten miles.”

“You’re in town,” she said flatly.

“Absolutely.  You didn’t think I’d stay away forever do you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she spoke with a resolve she didn’t really feel.  “We’re over.  No discussion is going to change that.  Goodbye.”

She started to hang up the phone when he said, “What would Bruce think about your nocturnal activities last year?”

She closed her eyes, hearing her own words in her mind, And I’ve killed men for less.  She hadn’t confided the whole story to him, but he wasn’t stupid and he’d drawn his own conclusions.  He had more than enough information to be dangerous.  She wanted to say to him, He figured it out in about ten seconds flat, you schmuck.  Instead she just sighed, “He’d live, I suppose.”

“But will he let you continue to run his company?  Or what about the police, Kendra, what would they do?”

“You don’t have any evidence,” she said thickly, feeling slightly ill at the implied threat.

“Don’t need any.  All I have to do is point them in the right direction.  They’ve either already got the evidence, or they can find it I’m sure.”  He let that sink in for a few seconds.  “Now, shall I see you in, say, 30 minutes love?  Don’t like to be kept waiting you know.” 

The line was disconnected and she threw the phone across the room, screaming “Bastard!”

She quickly threw on some clothes and brushed out her still wet hair before racing down the stairs and out the door.  Traffic was light and she arrived at Paxton’s mansion in less than the half hour deadline.  Steeling herself, she rung the door chimes and waited impatiently for him to answer.  When he did she was caught off guard as he stood before her shirtless and damp.  “Sorry love,” he said as he showed her into the den.  “I called you first thing upon arriving home.  Jumped into the shower to make myself more presentable for you.”

“Whatever,” she replied distractedly, waving away his less-than-sincere apology.  He knew her weaknesses and was no doubt preying on them.  “What do you want Paxton?  I’m not staying married to you, no matter what.”

“So you would just leave me penniless then?”

“Get over yourself,” she cried.  “I don’t think ten million creds qualifies you for poverty.”

“It’s gone.”

“You’re joking.  I thought you were a good businessman.  What on earth happened to it?”

“I needed it to pay off some old debts.”

“And you have nothing else?”

He shook his head.  “I’ve been living off loans, using my shares in Wayne-Powers as collateral.  I’ve got nothing left.  But you,” he said tenderly, drawing closer and trying to grasp her hand.

She batted it away and called out, “Enough!  I’m tired of your little games Paxton!”

“Games?  But you set the rules for this game didn’t you.”  His voice rumbled and his eyes narrowed.  “Why stop now? 

She hugged herself.  “You tried to have Bruce killed,” she said in a low voice.

He seemed startled at first, and then regained his composure.  “Ah, I’m not surprised he told you.  Probably made it seem like it was all my fault, didn’t he?”

She didn’t mention that it was Terry who told her, but said, “Well is it true or not?”

“That’s not the whole story.  I suppose he didn’t mention that the Royal Flush Gang had me held for ransom.  When they contacted him he refused.  ‘Company policy’ my ass.  He was content to get me out of the way.  I had to find a way to free myself, and if that meant making a deal with the devil, then so be it.

“Whatever he says, don’t for a minute believe he has anything but his own interests at heart.”  He stepped closer to her and grasped her shoulders.  Gently he said, “But that’s in the past.  This is the present.”  He bent down and placed his lips on her forehead.  “I know you deserve better.”  He kissed her cheek.  “But please understand I am crazy about you.”  His mouth found hers.

Several hours later she was fumbling in the darkness for her clothes, Paxton’s form snoring softly from the bed.

“I promise you, Commissioner, he was very much alive when I left him.”

Barbara nodded thoughtfully.  “What was the threat?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Kendra stuttered.

“You said Paxton used a veiled threat to get you to come over.  What was the threat?”

“It’s not really relevant.”

A slow, feral smile spread over Barbara Gordon’s face.  “It could very well be a motive for murder.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to plead the fifth then.”

“I see.”  Barbara rose and walked to the end of the small room, her back to Kendra.  “Fortunately for you, forensics still hasn’t come up with an MO.  All we have is circumstantial evidence at this point.  You’re free to go.  For now.”

“Does that mean you’re not charging me?”

Barbara turned around.  “Don’t make any travel arrangements outside Gotham City limits.  I’ll be in touch.”

Kendra rose and nodded to the older woman.  “Please don’t say anything about this to Bruce.”

“He won’t hear it from me,” she replied.  The policeman guarding the door opened it and allowed her to leave.  She rode the elevator alone and disembarked in the lobby, expecting to see Bruce waiting for her, but he was nowhere to be found.  Confused and frustrated she stood alone in the large space, hugging herself to keep from shaking.  After several moments she heard a soft voice call her name from behind.  She turned and saw Bruce standing there.

“Where did you come from?” she whispered.

“Upstairs,” he replied simply, and she knew.  He’d heard everything.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, the bitter tears began running down her face.  “You must think I’m terrible.”

“No.” 

“I was weak, and I…I…” she hiccupped as the sobs came stronger.  His hand came up and gripped her shoulder, pulling her forward until she pressed her face against his chest.  He lightly brushed her hair.

“You loved him.”  She nodded her head against his chest.  “That’s not a crime.  Let’s go home.”

Terry entered the cave and found Bruce in his usual place.  “Hey,” he called out as he disappeared into the changing area.

“Did you find what you were looking for this morning?” the old man greeted him gruffly.

“Ah,” Terry started, not sure whether to pretend ignorance.  “So how’s Kendra?” he asked lightly.

“She’s upstairs sleeping.  The police questioned her today.”

“They didn’t arrest her?”

“No, there’s not enough evidence.  A fact you seem to be overlooking.”

Terry scoffed as he pulled on his suit.  “Evidence!  She’s got a history of eliminating people she doesn’t like and apparently it runs in the family.”  He came out and looked pointedly at Bruce.  Bruce looked back at him with a sour expression.  “Not you.  Her grandmother?   Andrea Beaumont?  I read all about her.” 

“She has nothing to do with this situation, Terry,” Bruce replied in a quiet voice.

“Sure she does.  It just supports my theory.  Insanity runs in families.  Kendra belongs in jail, or at least in Arkham.  And if you’re not going to do anything about it, then maybe I should.”

“Very well Terrance,” Bruce said with a smile.  “You are going to do something.  You are going to Paxton’s home and look for evidence to prove your assumptions.”  Terry’s mouth dropped open; he felt like he’d just been played.  “Now!”  Bruce said before he could make any arguments.

“Fine, but don’t blame me if I find out your little darling is still a psychopathic killer,” Terry spat as he jumped into the Batmobile and rocketed out of the cave.  He fumed as he zoomed above the city, finally reaching the Gotham Heights area, where the richest residents built multi-million dollar homes and pretended theirs was the only one on the block.  Pulling the release lever he dropped out of the cockpit and shot the batwings out, gliding down to the well-groomed lawn.  Keeping to the shadows he moved to the side of the mansion where a massive pool stood.  Terry knew that Paxton had held many wild parties around this very pool.  A sliding glass door provided the entrance into the house, but was blocked by a holographic image with the streaming words, ‘Crime scene…Do not cross by order of the Gotham Police Department…Crime scene…’  Unlike the old tape used in the last century, one couldn’t just walk through it.  To break the barrier would sound alarms and bring the whole force down on him.

Terry looked up and saw a large window on the second floor, presumably the master bedroom suite.  With a grin Terry engaged his rocket thrusters and flew up to the sill.  The window opened easily and he entered.  A large bed sat to his left and a still-packed suitcase lay on a chair next to the walk in closet.  He barely glanced at it and went out the door finding the stairs down to the main floor, looking for the living room where Paxton’s ashes had been found.

“Wayne are you there?” he called into his cowl’s communicator.

“Are you inside yet?”

“Yep.  Heading into the room now.  Looks normal.  There’s an outline on the rug; must be where they found him.  Other than that the room seems untouched.”

“Barbara said there weren’t any scorch marks, except on the carpet.”

“She’s right.  How could something so hot not even so much as melt the lampshades?”

“I don’t know.  Start at the spot where the body was found.”

Terry walked over and knelt down to get a closer look.  “Switch on the vid link and take a look.”

Together they observed the slightly oblong shadow on the pale peach carpet.  “Get a sample of the threads,” Wayne told him.

Terry shrugged, but did as he was asked.  “Don’t you think the cops have done this?  What do you think is in here that they missed?”

He was carefully plucking some of the singed carpet when Wayne shouted into his ear, “Terry!  Stop right there!  I’m getting some readings from the suit’s sensors.”

“What is it?” Terry asked holding laying his hand completely on the floor.

“Radiation,” Bruce replied simply.  “Low enough levels that someone who didn’t know what they were looking for would miss it.”

“Radiation?  Was that what you were looking for all along?”

There was a brief pause, and then simply, “Yes.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Radiation in large concentrated quantities can disintegrate an object within a matter of seconds without giving off any extraneous heat.”

“But how would Powers have been exposed to such a radiation blast…Slag!” he swore suddenly.  “Blight!  You think he could have done this to his own son?”

“He had a grudge.  And I don’t think family loyalty means too much to that clan.”

“Where has he been all this time?  How did he survive?”

“Who knows?  There’s an abandoned nuclear power plant not too far up the river that still gives off low-level rads.  He may very well have held up there waiting for his chance…what the..?”

“Wayne?  What is it?”  Terry called out.  Then he heard a feminine scream and a loud crash.  “Bruce!  What’s going on?  Bruce?  Bruce!!”

There was an eternity of silence before he finally got a reply.  “Well, well, if this isn’t my lucky day,” a deceptively silky voice flowed into his ear.  “I come to take out one enemy only to find another…Batman.  Or is it Terry McGinnis?”

“Blight,” Terry growled. 

“At your service.  It all makes sense now.  Your father was Warren McGinnis, another busybody.  What a shame.  But we’ll have plenty of time to talk about old acquaintances once you get your meddlesome self over here.  Otherwise the world is going to be shy two Waynes.”

“How do I know you won’t kill them anyway?”

“You don’t.  But I know how you think Terry.  You could never live with yourself if you didn’t try.  Good guys never do, eh Wayne?”  There was a muffled reply that Terry couldn’t make out.  “Ha ha, old man.  We’ll see about that.  Don’t be long Batman.  I wouldn’t want the party to start without the guest of honor.”  Terry groaned as a screech of feedback pierced into his ear, presumably because Blight had destroyed the communicator on his end.

Just great, Terry thought.  Blight in the Batcave holding Bruce and Kendra hostage.  How was he supposed to stop him?  The only time he’d seen Blight beaten was when Paxton had tricked him with that pinch cell net.  But it went down with the sub.  If only…He stopped and snapped his fingers.  That was it.  He didn’t have much time to get back to the cave, but first he had a quick stop to make.

Bruce and Kendra sat side by side on stools next to the table where his microscope and other scientific equipment were laid out.  Kendra was tethered to the table by one of his own batcuffs.  Blight had made him put it on her arm himself, a glowing fireball waiting in his hand to be thrown if Bruce made a suspicious move.  Bruce himself was not bound in anyway.  Blight assumed that he wouldn’t try anything as long as she was helpless.  He was right.

“My, my, my.”  The glowing fiend walked around and observed all of the artifacts in the cave.  He stopped before the cases where the old suits were stored.  He placed one finger on the glass in front of the original batsuit.  There was a hiss and melted glass trickled slowly down where his finger lay.  “You were the first Batman weren’t you?” he asked in a hushed awe.  Bruce made no comment.  “I’m not entirely surprised Wayne.  The way you continued to poke your nose into my company.  It’s a control thing isn’t it?  Doesn’t matter anyway,” he said.  “All that’s important is that I get to finish all my business in one stop.  First that ingrate of a son,” he walked over to the pair, “next, your bitch of a granddaughter for turning him into a sniveling, pathetic waste of my time.  And finally, Bruce, you and that punk kid.  Then my revenge will be complete.”

Kendra, who had been mute from the shock since Blight crashed through the doors upstairs, finally looked up and said, “Y-you killed Paxton?”

Blight threw back his head and laughed.  “Oh my yes!  I could almost forgive him for trying to kill me.  That was imaginative and self-serving, just the way I taught him, but giving, giving, my company to you!  That was simply unacceptable.  And what a disappointment he was even at the very end.  Do you know what the last thing he said to me was before I gave him my last paternal embrace?  ‘Don’t hurt my wife.’  I’d like to know what you did to him to turn him into such a feeble-minded stooge.”  He bent down inches from her face, his eyes glowing in rage.

“You are a monster,” she whispered.

This made him laugh even harder than before.  “What’s the matter?  Don’t want to give your father-in-law a kiss?  Ha ha ha!”  Tears fell down her face and she tried to turn away from him.

“Leave her alone Powers!” Bruce spat.

“You’re in no position to give orders, old man,” Blight growled.  “I don’t have to keep you alive until Batman gets here, you know.”  His hand came up slowly ready to grab Bruce by the throat.

“Blight!”  The word echoed throughout the immense cavern.

Powers stood straight and looked around.  “Batman!  Show yourself!”

“Let them go!”  It could have come from any direction.

“I don’t think so.”

As the two enemies were having their exchange Bruce leaned over and whispered to get Kendra’s attention.  She looked at him, tears still drying on her face.  He spoke softly to her, asking her a question.

She nodded, but said, “What good will that do?”

“Maybe nothing.  It’s going to be up to Terry, but maybe we can buy him some time.  Are you up to it?”

She frowned and then rattled the cuff against the table.  “Not while I’m tied up.”  He smiled and then whispered into her ear.  She reached over with her free hand and found the switch on the cuffs, which popped open.  With a small smile she dropped them onto the tabletop.  Making sure Blight’s back was to her she softly crept across the floor and slipped behind a wall.  He wasn’t happy asking her to do this, but the alternative was to sit back and do nothing.  Gripping his cane in both hands he waited for his opportunity.  Ace sat by his side, watching his master, also waiting.

Terry held his ground behind a stalagmite, watching Blight search the darkness for him.  He saw Kendra stand and sneak into the back room.  It was storage, he knew, but didn’t think there was anything in there to be of help.  But he couldn’t concern himself with that at the moment.  He had to get Blight off guard.

“Let them go and it’ll just be us, man to man.  C’mon you don’t need innocent hostages to take me on do you?” he taunted.

“Innocent!  They’re far from innocent, and it will just be you and me when I finish them off.  If you’d like to watch, than just stay right where you are.”  Smugly he turned back pausing when he saw only Bruce,  “What the..?” he cried out.  That was when Bruce struck.  He leapt up and swung his cane with all of his might.  Blight easily deflected the blow, sending him flying with a backhand.  He landed on his side and slid back several feet, groaning involuntarily.  “Now we end this Wayne!”  The fireball glowed in his hand and he swung back ready to fire it.  A fierce growl rose up and Ace jumped, planting his front feet against Blight’s chest, rocking him back.  The fireball flew wildly up to the ceiling, sending rock debris everywhere.  “Stupid mutt,” Blight said flinging the animal off him like a used garment.  Another fireball was hurled, but the dog started running and only caught it on his upper flank.  With a heart-wrenching cry of pain, the dog fell down in front of his master, singed fur smoking along his back.  “Argh!” Blight groaned in frustration.

As Terry watched he created yet a third to throw at both them.  “No!” he cried and shot from his hiding place, only to be beaten to it by Kendra, dressed in her FireBrand costume.  She did several forward flips, landing her with her feet between Blight’s shoulder blades.  He went down face first, but rolled over quickly.  As she tried to step away from him he reached up and grabbed her wrist, holding fast as he stood.

“What’s this?” he cried.  “Another costume?  Don’t you people ever quit!”  With a hand on each shoulder, he said with a wicked smile, “This is perfect.  You can die the same way as your husband did!”  He wrapped his arms around her in a gruesome parody of love.  She cried out and smoke billowed up, but she remained intact.  In a moment of confusion he loosened his grip on her.  “I don’t understand…”

“It’s fireproof you moron!” she spat out, head butting the green monstrosity.  “That’s for Paxton!”  He stumbled back a couple of steps, but regained his footing, shooting a ball directly at her chest.  Crying out, she flew off her feet and landed in the middle of the glass display cases, shards scattering everywhere.

Using the distraction, Terry grabbed the netting and ignited his rocket boots to propel him forward, throwing the net over Powers.  He twisted around and shot a batarang at the pinch cell sitting where he’d placed it while camouflaged earlier.  It buzzed to life immediately.

“No!”  Blight cried out in agony, as the machine started draining away his energy.  “That thing went down in the river!  How could you…?”  He fell into a heap on the floor.

Landing in front of him, Terry replied, “Luckily for us Wayne-Power’s scientists always make a prototype to keep in the lab before sending something out into the field.  I believe that was a policy developed by the original owner.”   Turning, he rushed over to where Bruce laid, one hand comforting the still form of Ace.  “How’re you two doing?”

“A little worse for the wear,” he replied sardonically.  “I’ve got to get Ace to a doctor.  That’s a pretty bad burn.”

“We’ll do.  How about you?  Can you get up?”

He tried but fell back down, his face masked in pain.  “I think I broke my hip.”  His eyes moved over Terry’s shoulder.  “Kendra don’t!” he called out.

Terry spun around.  She was standing next to the pinch cell, her mask hand been removed, and she was reaching for the dial.  “What are you doing?” he cried.

“Can this thing kill him?” she asked in a hysterical voice.  Under the net Blight groaned and more power was sucked out of him.

“Yes it can!  Don’t do it!”

She turned her face to him, eyes wild, hair frayed out in all directions.  “Why not?  He killed Paxton.  He was going to kill all of us!  Why not?”  The words rose and fell with an overload of emotions.

“Because that’s not what we do,” Bruce replied from behind him in a reasonable tone.  “That’s not what good people do.  I know you are a good person Kendra, and I know you know the difference.”

She looked at him, tears falling freely from her eyes.  “But it hurts,” she spoke in the small voice of a child.

“Yes, and it won’t stop if you do that.”

“Did it ever stop for you?”

“No,” he agreed quietly.  “Because I didn’t want it to.  I fed on it, I used it and it used me.  Look what I’ve become.  Please don’t let that happen to you.  For me.  For Andrea.”  Her eyes closed and she sank down onto the floor, her head in her hands, letting the sobs overcome her.  To Terry he said, “Call Barbara.  She’s going to need to arrange a lead lined prison cell.  And we’re going to need an ambulance.”

He was in the hospital again.  He was grumpy and let anyone within hearing distance know it.  This time the doctor refused to let him out a minute before he was ready.  Somehow he’d gained a reputation.  He couldn’t walk and was therefore confined to bed, flipping through the webchannels and finding nothing of interest.  Even the news didn’t interest him.  Blight, also known as Derek Powers, who was captured and arrested for the death of Paxton Powers and the attempted murder of Bruce Wayne and his granddaughter, escaped custody in the early morning hours as the police attempted to transfer him to a cell.  Somebody accidentally unplugged the net before he was secured.  With a sound of disgust he turned off the set with his remote.  He hated hospitals.

The door opened silently and Terry peeked his head in.  “Are you looking for some company?”  Bruce’s eyes widened and he nodded, grateful to see a friendly face.  “So how’re you doing?”

“I hate it here.”

“I know,” Terry replied with a laugh.

“You should be out on patrol,” Bruce said pointedly.  “Blight’s at large.”

“I will be.  I promise no slacking while you’re out of commission.  Do you think he’d really come back for you?”

“I don’t know.  He’ll be pretty weak and may need some time to recuperate.  Maybe he’ll try again in the future.  We have to be ready for anything.”

 Terry nodded.  “So,” he began.  “I guess I owe you an apology.”

“Not me,” Bruce replied.

Terry sighed.  “Okay, I guess I owe her an apology.  Is she going to be alright?”

“She left this morning for California.”  Terry’s eyes widened.  “She went to stay with her mother for a while.  They have a lot to talk about.”

“Will she be back?”

“Someday.”  He turned away to glance out the window.  “And someday I may get to see my daughter and grandson again.”

End Part IV