Chapter Text
Red Arrow peered around the corner of the tunnel. An intersection, three possible ways to go, each with florescent light strips near the ceiling to guide the way forward. With a contemplative hum, he pulled out a copy of the map Cyborg had made for them.
“Looks like the left path,” he said, stowing the map. “Then, it's the second right, which will take us straight to the VRA building's electrical room.”
Red Robin rounded the corner, taking the lead while Red Arrow lagged behind with his bow ready. “Let's make this quick. The infiltration team is counting on us. If we don't bring down that security, we don't get to Slade.”
A low growl rumbled behind him, as a green-furred Siberian tiger plodded around the corner. Beast Boy stalked forward, sniffing the air. After several steps, he stopped, and morphed back into his human form.
“I smell something,” he said, staring down the tunnel ahead of them. “Someone's waiting for us.”
Red Arrow grumbled. “Figures they wouldn't leave this place unguarded. How many? Can't imagine they stuffed too many down here. Pretty cramped.”
“Just one,” Beast Boy said.
Red Robin raised an eyebrow. “That's it?”
“Well, then we should be able to handle them, right?” Red Arrow pulled an arrow from his quiver, and nocked it. “They can't have put someone too powerful down here, or they'd risk collapsing the tunnels if a fight broke out.”
The sound of footsteps echoed down the tunnel. A figure appeared, rounding the corner of the second path on the right. Shadow darkened their form, until they stepped forward enough for the lights overhead to illuminate their form. Blonde hair, black bodysuit, leather jacket.
And fishnets.
Red Arrow's eyes widened. “Oh, sh*t. Back around the corner!”
A shrill, sonic scream tore down the tunnel. The three men dove back around the corner, seconds before the blast impacted the concrete wall behind them, rupturing a web of spidery cracks along its surface. Even though they had avoided the full brunt, all three of them reeled, clutching their hands over their ears. The sound was deafening, echoing like thunder throughout the underground.
When the noise faded, Red Arrow lowered his hands. Small trickles of blood oozed from his ears, both of which rang with a shrill, piercing whistle. “sh*t, they got Dinah, too?”
Red Robin grimaced, reaching into his utility belt. “Smart, putting her down here. Can't spread out to avoid her Canary Cry. Only option left is to close the distance somehow and face her hand-to-hand.”
“Are you insane?” Red Arrow glanced back toward the corner, where the sound of echoing footsteps grew closer. “That's Black Canary. Look, Tim, you and I are good, but she's downright scary. There's not even enough room down here to spread out and attack her from both sides, so our numbers advantage means squat. She'll tear us apart.”
“Alright, so what do you propose?”
Beast Boy raised his hand. “I have an idea.”
Red Arrow maintained his focus on the corner. The footsteps had stopped, meaning Black Canary was waiting. No matter what they tried, they'd have to get down a straight tunnel to reach her, right into the path of her Canary Cry.
“Alright,” he said, reaching for another arrow. “Let's hear it.”
Beast Boy stood up. “These tunnels aren't big enough for me to turn into anything capable of potentially tanking her Canary Cry, but I think I can neutralize her another way. I just need a distraction.”
Black Canary stood silent, hand on her hip as she stared down the tunnel. She remained focused, unflinching, ready to unleash her Canary Cry at the first sign of movement. The sound of something small skipping across a concrete floor echoed down the tunnel, followed by a quiet hiss of air. Smoke poured outward from a pellet, concealing the space between her and her opponents.
Foolish.
With a deep inhale, she unleashed another shrill, sonic scream from her throat. The smoke rushed down the tunnel, blown away and dispersed in seconds, while the wall at the end of the tunnel cracked further on impact. When her lungs emptied, she closed her mouth and stood straighter.
“You won't get anywhere with tactics like those,” she said. “I thought Ollie trained you better than that, Roy.”
“Yeah, well, you know me.” Red Arrow's voice echoed from around the corner. A second later, he leaned out and fired an arrow. “Always a rebel.”
Black Canary loosed another scream. The arrow shattered on impact, exploding with a bright flash. Light seared her vision, forcing her to reel back and cover her eyes. Bright spots blobbed into her vision. Didn't matter. She could still hear, and she knew they weren't dumb enough to try and run at her while she could still scream.
A light buzzing filled her ear. She blinked her vision clear, squinting through watery eyes. A tiny figure hovered around her head, circling onto to her shoulder. A mosquito, from the look of it. Her heart jolted. A green mosquito. Instinct drove her to lash out a strike to her own shoulder to squash the insect.
Too late.
The mosquito expanded in an instant. Slick, wet flesh engulfed her, pulled in by multiple quivering tentacles. Six wrapped around her arms and legs in a fierce squeeze, while another wrapped over her mouth, and an eighth around her eyes. Her body went limp, yanked to the ground by a two-hundred pound cephalopod.
Footsteps rounded the corner. She heard Roy's voice first.
“Damn, never thought I'd be this happy to see a giant octopus.”
“Hold her tight, B.B.” Red Robin, his footsteps racing down the tunnel beyond her. “We'll handle the security systems!”
The infiltration team perched on a rooftop across the street from the VRA headquarters, watching the battle below. While the distraction team was holding their own for now, the tide could always turn. If the VRA brought in more backup, they'd be outnumbered. No telling how many other mind-controlled heroes were lying in wait.
“Come on,” Ravager said, glancing at the radio in her hand. They needed the sabotage team to come through, and soon. “What's taking you guys so long?”
The radio crackled, and Red Arrow's voice came in. “We're good. Security systems are down. Get in there.”
With a sigh of relief, she clicked the radio and replied, “Got it. We're going in.”
Becky stepped to the ledge, staring down at the battle. A blast of energy ruptured, as Bombshell crashed into the ground, pursued by Blue Beetle. “Ay, Dios … you think they can hold out?”
“They have to,” Ravager said, tucking the radio into her belt. “That's their job. Time to do ours.”
Nightwing nodded, and glanced toward Raven. “Ready when you are.”
“Yes, let's go,” Raven said, raising her arms upward. Shadowy soul essence drifted out from beneath her cloak, and engulfed them all.
They emerged on the second floor lobby of the VRA building, one by one dropping out of Raven's soul-self. The receptionist behind the counter screamed, ducking behind her desk. After a moment's pause, she slowly peered over the top.
“Alright, we're in,” Ravager said, with a quick look around. The lobby was large, with several branching corridors leading to other areas of the building. “Question is—where's Slade?”
Nightwing glanced to a sign on the wall, which depicted a floor plan of the building. “Not many places to hide. Only five floors."
Ravager's attention drew toward the receptionist. “Hey, you, what floor is Slade on?”
The woman let out a quiet yelp, tumbling behind her chair. “P-please, don't hurt me!”
“Lady, we're not gonna hurt you,” Ravager said, with a small sigh. “Just tell us where Slade is.”
“S-slade?” The woman gulped, pulling herself to her feet with the chair as support. “Oh, you mean Director Wilson! He's in his office, on the fifth floor.”
Becky blinked, scratching the back of her head. “Huh, who'd have thought just asking would work?”
“Well you heard her—fifth floor.” Ravager turned to the others, hands lowering to her hips. “Let's get moving.”
The receptionist stared, glancing at the group in confusion. “Wait, you're really not going to hurt me?”
Ravager raised an eyebrow behind her mask. “You don't plan on attacking us, do you?”
The woman's eyes went wide. “W-what? No! Of course not!”
“Then yeah, you're safe. Now come on, we're wasting time.”
Raven lifted her arms, drawing her soul-self out from beneath her cloak. “I will have us there shortly.”
A jolting surge of electricity exploded across Raven's backside. She screamed, crumpling to the ground with her muscles going into spasms. When the surge dissipated, she remained motionless, her chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. A small, bat-shaped shuriken with a blinking red light jutted out from between her shoulder blades.
“Raven!” Ravager knelt at the empath's side, checking her vitals. Alive, but unconscious. “She's just stunned. We need to—look out!”
A flicker of precog tore through her head, prompting her to flip backward away from another whirling bat-shuriken. Three more projectiles whistled through the air—crossbow bolts. Nightwing ran forward, pulling out a metal rod form her utility belt. The weapon extended into a full staff, and with a single whirling motion, she swatted aside the incoming projectiles.
Nightwing glared at the women standing at the mouth of the nearest corridor. “Steph. Helena.”
Batgirl stepped forward, extending a bo staff of her own. Huntress pulled into stride one step behind, hand crossbow raised.
“Cass, you really should have registered,” Batgirl said, with a stern shake of her head.
Huntress took aim, staring down the sights of her crossbow. “Really didn't want to have to hurt you, but you've left us no choice.”
Ravager drew her swords. “You really think you two can stop us?”
Huntress smirked. “Oh, honey, we didn't come alone.”
The door on the other side of the lobby cracked inward, bursting from its hinges. A furred wall of muscle raced forward on all fours, lips pulled back with fangs bared. Ravager whirled around, darting out of range from a vicious claw swipe.
“Kubrick!” Ravager glowered, taking a defensive stance in front of the werewolf. “Of f*cking course you're involved in this. That's why you were in D.C when Z and I paid you a visit!”
The werewolf chortled a deep, throaty laugh. “No sh*t, genius! A little slow on the draw, aren't you?”
“Oye, pandejo!” Becky squared up on Kubrick's other side, staff whirling into position. “You got a lot of nerve, showing your ugly mug!”
Kubrick's furry brow lifted, lips pulling back into an amused snarl. “I know that voice. Fancy looking suit you got there, Chavez. What, you one of the heroes now?”
Becky twisted the staff, causing a thrum of power to course through it. “That's right, and I'm about to put you in a world of hurt for everything you did.”
“No, I got him,” Ravager said, stepping between the two. She glared at the werewolf, swords readied. “We have a lot of unfinished business to resolve. I still owe you for almost turning me into a monster.”
“Almost?” Kubrick growled, pulling back his claws. “Found your cure, then? A shame. That's alright. I'll give you another little bite, pick up where we left off.”
She beckoned him forward. “Let's dance, furball.”
Becky looked to the other side of the lobby, where Nightwing had squared off against Batgirl and Huntress. “Alright, I'll help Cass.”
She made it three steps across the lobby, when the wall next to the receptionist desk ruptured. Splintered wood parted around a massive, blue-scaled figure with razor claws, a winding tail covered in spines, and a toothy, shark-like mouth.
Zaria roared, slamming into Becky's side with a force that launched her across the lobby into the elevator. Metal doors crunched inward. Becky groaned, flipping back to her feet with a whirring flex of her X-suit.
“Going somewhere?” Zaria said, with a wide grin filled with multiple rows of teeth.
“Ay, Dios,” Becky said, raising her eyebrows at the monster. “You're an ugly one, ah?”
Nightwing swung her staff, meeting Batgirl's in a series of whirling blows. Metal clanged against against metal, both combatants parrying and evading. Nightwing shifted, and lashed her leg upward, prompting Batgirl to duck away and counter with a lunging elbow. The blow cracked against Nightwing's rising knee, pushing her backward in a stumble. Nightwing spun sideways, whirled her staff—electricity sparked against Batgirl's chest.
Three bolts zipped through the air. Nightwing rolled away, diving around the side of the receptionist desk. When the bolts thudded against the wood, she sprang out and sprinted forward, launching herself with a flying kick at Huntress. Knuckles cracked against the side of her face, as Batgirl intercepted her. She stumbled to the floor, catching herself with one arm. Another fist swung forward. Nightwing leaned away, caught the fist, and slammed her shoulder forward against the bottom of Batgirl's jaw.
Rolling through the momentum, Nightwing landed on top of her opponent and raised a fist, knuckles sparking with electricity. Fire punctured her forearm. Not as painful as it should have been—she was numb to a lot of pain. Deadened her arm, though. Her fist released, unable to fully curl her fingers. Batgirl's elbow lashed upward, forcing her to roll away.
Nightwing straightened to her feet, and glanced at her arm. A crossbow bolt pierced through her armor, skewering the flesh beneath. Sticky warmth oozed down her wrist, coating the inside of her glove. Not good.
“Promethium-tipped bolts,” Huntress said, taking aim with another shot. “They'll pierce straight through that armor of yours. Last chance to surrender.”
Nightwing frowned, shifting a glance between the two women. Both of them, her friends. Normally. Not right now. They were enemies who needed to be put down. Needed to be saved. That would be difficult. Both of them, dangerous.
“You may be really damn good,” Batgirl said, flipping back to her feet. “But so are we. Sure, I could never measure up against you, Cass, but I've gotten better over the years.”
“So have I,” Huntress said. “And we're a team. Have been for a while. We cover each other's weaknesses. We can beat you.”
With a focused breath, Nightwing raised a fist, with her one good arm. “We'll see.”
“So, what are you supposed to be?” Becky said, with a bounding leap over the monster's swiping claws.
Zaria snarled, whirling around with another strike. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I am a Celarian!”
“Maybe because no one's ever heard of one?” Becky ducked, and flipped backward. Her suit flexed, thrumming with energy. Her muscles pulsed, and tightened. “Ever consider wearing a name tag?”
Zaria charged, claws outstretched. Becky thrust her staff forward, cracking the end against the Celarian's chest. A shock wave ruptured, launching the scaled monster through another wall. Plaster exploded, and she disappeared into the room beyond.
Becky raised her fingers over her eyes, squinting at the broken wall. “Hey, where you think you're going?”
The muscled blue form of the Celarian crept forward, pulling herself through the open hole in the wall. Her eyes narrowed, darkening with murderous intent.
“By the way, how am I doing at the whole superhero banter thing?” Becky said, with a mocking smirk. “Kind of my first time trying it out.”
A low growl surged from Zaria's throat. She crouched low, muscled forelimbs pressing against the tiled floor. With a bounding leap, she raced forward.
Becky stifled a chuckle, and readied her staff again. “If it didn't work the first time, what makes you think—?”
Her voice caught in her throat when Zaria leaped at the ceiling in mid-stride, above Becky's swinging staff. Becky stumbled, over-extended. She planted her foot and pivoted in desperate attempt to reposition herself. Too slow. The Celarian kicked off the ceiling in a lunging dive, claws tearing into Promethium nanoweave.
Becky spun to the floor, fire racing through her ribs. She ignored the pain, kept moving. Another swipe of claws flashed through the air. She rolled away, and scrambled back to her feet. Zaria charged, jaws open wide.
The X-suit flexed. Becky's arm snapped forward, muscles tight and compressed. Her knuckles slammed against the side of Zaria's face with a vicious crack. The Celarian launched across the lobby, smashing through another wall with a thunderous bang of rupturing plaster. This time, she didn't return.
“Ay, caramba,” Becky said, glancing down at her ribs.
Four large slash marks ripped through the X-suit, but the cuts beneath were shallow. Thin red lines traced along her skin, oozing a few stray dots of crimson—barely a scratch. The suit flexed again, fibers compressing. In a matter of seconds, the fabric knitted back together, as the nanoweave repaired itself.
Becky grinned. “I will never get tired of this suit.”
Ravager ducked and weaved around lunging claw strikes. Careful, patient. She'd made too many mistakes the last time she fought Kubrick. She had to learn. He wasn't just an overgrown wolf. His strength, speed, endurance, durability—all of them off the charts, exceeding even her own. He was a monster, plan and simple. If she threw herself at him in a straight brawl, she'd lose, or at the very least end up cursed with lycanthropy for a second time.
But she did have one thing he didn't—training. A whole damn lot of it. Kubrick was aggressive, and didn't know how to show restraint. He charged forward, lunging with wild claw strikes. She danced away, parrying with her blades when necessary. Easy. She could keep this up all day, if she had to. Problem was, she didn't have all day. What she needed was an opening. A chance to counter.
Hard to do, without putting herself at risk. If not for the fact they still had to take down her dad, she wouldn't care so much about getting roughed up while beating Kubrick into submission. That was the main issue—she couldn't afford to face Deathstroke at anything less than full strength.
“I see you've gotten better at running away!” Kubrick snarled, scrambling on all fours after another missed swipe. He stalked around her in a circle, drool slobbering from his fangs. “What's the matter? Afraid I'll bite you again? I promise, it's not so bad. Sure, you go a little crazy at first, but admit it—that time you transformed, you enjoyed it. The rush. The power. The hunger. This doesn't have to messy. Hold out your arm, and I'll just take a little nibble.”
“You talk too much, you know that?” Ravager said, raising her blades at the ready. “I'm gonna enjoy shutting you up.”
“Oh yeah? Try me.”
Kubrick charged, a low growl surging from his throat. He lunged, claws pulled back. There was her opening. Rather than stepping back to parry as she had before, she moved inward, pushing inside his guard. Sharpened Promethium alloy pierced through muscled, furry hide.
She coughed blood. f*ck. With a frantic shove, she pulled away from the werewolf and stumbled backward, a trail of crimson lashing onto the floor in her wake. Most of it wasn't hers. Most of it. Kubrick's stepped back, crimson smeared across the claws of one of his hind feet. She glanced downward, noting the three punctures through the abdomen of her armored suit. Blood oozed down her front.
f*cking werewolves.
“Thought you might try something brazen like that,” Kubrick said, with a clench of his jaw. The two wounds in his chest gushed with slick scarlet, but did little to slow him down. “Figured I'd try something crazy myself. What's the matter, didn't expect it?”
No, she hadn't. Evidently, Kubrick was smarter than she'd given him credit for. Her precog had shown her the attack, but she'd already been halfway through her own. At that point, her only option was to commit. Trying to dodge in that instant might not have worked, and she wouldn't have done any damage to him.
Kubrick lunged with a piercing howl. Ravager stepped back, swords swinging upward. A lance of pain jolted through her side. sh*t. The pain was brief, but it did enough. Slowed her. Werewolf claws smashed into the side of her helmet, whipping her head sideways with a crack. She tumbled across the floor, spinning three times before crashing into a wall.
Ravager heaved herself upright, a throb pounding between her ears. Her faceplate clattered free, exposing her face to the open air. A good thing, since she immediately hunched forward with a retching cough, expelling a mouthful of crimson onto the tile.
An image flashed through her mind. Her body reacted on instinct, reaching up to tear her helmet off her head. In the same motion, she swung her arm around and clubbed her helmet into the side of Kubrick's jaw, before his fangs could sink into her throat. The werewolf staggered, falling to one knee over her. Her other hand lashed out, gripped the handle of her sword, and thrust upward.
Blood gurgled into Kubrick's throat, as her blade punctured the center of his thick, muscled neck. His eyes widened, panicked. He attempted to lean close, jaws opening wide once again, but Ravager pushed harder. Her arms trembled, but held firm. With a frantic scrabbling, Kubrick swiped one of his arms forward. Claws tore into the side of Ravager's face, tearing flesh with a spray of crimson. She screamed, and the left side of her her vision went dark.
She twisted her blade, and with her other arm swung her helmet against the side of Kubrick's face in repeated succession, punctuating each blow with a shout. “Just! Stay! Down!”
Kubrick slumped, but didn't topple. One more strike, and something in the werewolf's skull crackled. This time, he crashed to the floor. With deep, heaving breaths, Ravager let her head fall against the tile. The room was spinning, and the entire left side of her face burned. Still no vision on the that side, either. Mother f*cker, if that bastard took her eye after she just got it back …
“H-hello? Director Wilson?” said a timid voice from across the lobby. “It's just—they're here, in the building! And they're beating your guards! They're coming for you!”
Ravager's gut churned, as she sat upright. With a couple blinks to clear her blurred vision, she noticed Nightwing unloading a brutal combination on Batgirl. Huntress lay unconscious nearby. Becky stepped back, staring through a hole in the lobby wall, through which Ravager could see the sprawled form of an unmoving Celarian. They were winning? f*ck, that was good.
Becky looked over, eyes widening when she noticed Ravager's condition. “¡Ay, Dios! Rose! Are you alright?”
“Fine,” she said, as a nauseous bubble lifted into her throat. “Slade, he … we can't let him … get away.”
Becky's attention snapped toward the receptionist, who pulled her finger away from the intercom on her desk. “¡Mierda! Alright, I'll go, make sure he doesn't run. Catch up when you can!”
Ravager's insides flared, as Becky took off in a sprint towards the stairs. What? No. No, no, no! That wasn't what she meant! “Beck … don't …”
Blood burbled into her throat, stifling her words. She hunched over and vomited, coughing blood and bile onto the floor. She clawed her fingers against the tile. Adrenaline surged. With a sharp exhale of pain, she pushed herself to her feet and staggered toward the stairs, retrieving her swords on the way by.
Batgirl thudded to the floor, unmoving. Nightwing looked back, stumbling briefly before catching her balance. Her lips bled, pouring crimson down her chin, and her left eye was swollen. Two bolts pierced her armor, one through her left forearm, the other at her right shoulder. Ravager couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Cass that beat.
“Where's Becky?” Nightwing said, pulling the bolts free from her body.
“She went … ahead,” Ravager said, steeling herself with another deep inhale. “Facing Slade on her own—she'll get herself hurt. Or worse. We need to go after her.”
A tired groan drew her focus. At the center of the lobby, Raven began to stir. She rolled over and sat upright in partial daze, her eyes drooping. Her fingers twitched, spasming at odd intervals.
“What … happened?” Raven said, pulling down her hood. Long dark hair spilled over her face like a veil.
“Batgirl stunned you,” Nightwing said. “Are you okay?”
“I …” Raven went to stand, only for her legs to give out halfway there. “I will not be much help right now.”
Ravager swallowed. “Can you get back to base? You should recover, maybe help Vic if you can. Take Batgirl and Huntress, while you're at it. We're going after Slade.”
Raven gave a slow nod. “Yes, I will be fine. Good luck.”
"Yeah, you too."
Soul essence poured out from beneath Raven's cloak, engulfing herself, Batgirl, and Huntress. A second later, they were gone.
Ravager stood straighter. Her adrenaline spiked again, fueling her in a staggered sprint toward the stairs. “Come on, Cass. We have to catch up!”
The door to Director Wilson's office exploded inward, tearing off its hinges in a spray of splinters and shattered glass. Becky stepped inside. With a twirl of her staff, she glared at the man behind the desk.
Slade stood with his arms held behind his back, dressed in his full armored costume—all except his mask. A broadsword hung from a strap on his back, while multiple guns dangled from holsters at his waist and legs. He'd hadn't been planning to run. He'd been waiting. Prepared.
“About time,” Slade said. “I was getting bored.”
“Slade!” Becky raised her staff. “You're coming with us!”
With a deep inhale, Slade pulled his hands out from behind his back and slipped his mask on over his head. He straightened it into place, and let out his breath, allowing the Deathstroke persona to take over.
“Rebecca, isn't it?” he said. “Now that I see you up close, I recognize you. A shame, though. I was hoping for Rose.”
Becky's eyes narrowed. “Well, you got me instead! And others are on their way soon, so do the smart thing and come quietly.”
Deathstroke paused, staring at her. His head tilted. "You are my daughter's … lover?”
“Girlfriend. Get it right.”
“Of course.” Another pause. “She's happy, being with you. Isn't she?”
Becky scowled. "The hell do you care? As far as I'm concerned, that's none of your business!”
“I'm her father. Her happiness is most certainly my business.”
“Malparido.” Becky scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief at the man. “Is that why you drugged her, manipulated her, and made her kill for you? Real father of the year.”
Deathstroke's gaze darkened. “Don't presume you know anything about it. Even she doesn't know the whole story. Not really.”
“Well, I'm sure we'd all love to hear it. You can tell it to us from behind bars.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Deathstroke took several slow steps out from around his desk. “Don't be stupid, girl. You're in over your head.”
Becky twisted her staff, causing the weapon to thrum with power. “We'll see about that, won't we? For everything you've done with the VRA, everything you've done to hurt these people, and everything you'veeverdone to Rose, I'm taking you down.”
Deathstroke eased a deep breath, as he reached over his back to draw his sword. With another step forward, he lifted the blade over his head, and waited. “I'll tell you right now—I don't want to fight you, Rebecca. But if you make the first move, do not expect me to hold back.”
Becky's gaze narrowed. Her fists tightened on her staff, trembling with nerves. She took a deep breath to steady herself. The X-suit flexed with that familiar compression of power. Her heart fluttered. She could do this.
Swinging her staff into position, she ran forward. “Let's do this!”
