BOP Issue 2 of 4

Dawn.

Barbara Gordon had almost forgotten what sunlight was as it sifted through the blinds and melted like golden ice cream across her face. With a weary groan, she ran a hand back through her fiery red hair and pushed herself into a sitting position with a yawn A searing pain shot through her back as she swung her legs over the side of the leather sofa and tossed her blanket aside.

“You’re awake early,” a familiar voice came from the kitchenette across from the redhead.

“So are you, Dinah,” Barbara responded, casting a glance at the contemporary clock positioned on Helena’s wall. Six thirty A.M. “Please tell me yesterday was a dream…”

Dinah snickered “You really think we’d be sleeping in Bertinelli’s apartment otherwise?”

“She’s not that bad,” Barbara insisted, rising from her seat and pulling open the door of the refrigerator. “She just thinks differently to us. She has a different outlook on life.”

“Yeah,” Dinah agreed, “the psycho-crazy-killer-freak outlook.”

A harsh, mocking laugh emanated from the doorway of the single, lavishly decorated bedroom as an unkempt Helena Bertinelli emerged. Even having just woken up, the Italian beauty was stunning. Tresses of ebony hair caressed the back of her neck, accompanied by a firm but gentle hazel gaze and a slim, lithe figure. Her naturally rouge lips contrasted well against her tanned skin, and she propped herself against the doorframe

“Psycho? Crazy?” she repeated mockingly. “My, my, you really do have such a black-and-white view on things, don’t you?”

“What you call black and white, I call sane,” Dinah retorted, gulping down a mouthful of refreshingly clear water.

“Girls, stop it,” Barbara demanded, resentment lacing her tone. “How can you stand here and argue while the lives of our friends are on the line? I can’t believe I have to keep saying this!”

An awkward silence fell upon them.

“We move at seven,” Barbara informed, her voice placid once again. “Suit up.”

Batgirl rested atop a rooftop, bathing herself in the warm, golden glow from the rising sun. Running a hand back through her hair, she exhaled audibly, as if releasing all her troubles into the air, and rose to her feet. She turned to face Black Canary, her expression solemn.

“Anything yet?” she enquired.

Canary shook her head. “Huntress hasn’t left the sewers yet.”

“Damn,” Batgirl hissed under her breath. “Hurry it up, Helena, we don’t have time for this!”

Omen nodded in satisfaction. Bulk had engaged one of the Three. Turning, her robes rustling as she did so, she trudged over to a small panel inset beside Green Arrow’s stasis tube, and depressed a single button.

“My Master,” she greeted obediently, “the student you sent, the one named Bulk, has engaged the Huntress. Your will be done, my Master…soon.”

Huntress cursed as Bulk once again deflected her attacks, swiping away her staff strikes with a single arm and releasing a malevolent chuckle at the same time. She knew she was fighting an impossible fight. She was just an ordinary human, facing up to a monster who knew what was going to happen, and could become anything in order to stop that.

She was once again slammed against the wall as Bulk lunged at her, his arm suddenly a fantastically large mace. Barely ducking under the blow that would have killed her, Huntress kicked back off the wall and propelled herself away from Bulk with an agonizing shriek. Musty fluid coated her as she skimmed the surface of the unholy sea, the broach of her cape tearing free as she brought her elbows down with all her might to slow her unwilling journey. Skin was ripped from its lodgings as she finally skidded to a tentative halt. Gasping with pain, she hesitantly pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the blood gushing from her nose and elbows.

This should have felt like her last stand…but something about that assumption just didn’t ring true.

“Huntress!” Batgirl was suddenly poised beside her, a batarang gripped in one balled hand. “What the hell…?”

“It calls itself Bulk,” Huntress explained, her voice betraying her pained relief. “It can see the future, and is a shapeshifter, as far as I can tell.”

Without another word, Batgirl tossed her weapon forward in a well-practiced throw. Bulk’s abruptly concrete hand was already positioned in its path, and it lodged itself into the stone. The next moment, his hand was water once again, and the batarang fell effortlessly free.

“Whoa,” Canary interjected, reaching her two companions with her mouth agape

“We need space to maneuver. Scatter!” Batgirl ordered. Both hands were at her belt once again, withdrawing two golden, spiked blades. She flicked them open from their folded position and slotted them into her hands. They were semi-circular in shape, a grip rule along the straight edge at the base and glistening blades edged out along the curved section.

“Move!” she reiterated, and dived forward, swiping at the beast with the unusual weapons.

Bulk stepped back, the blades grazing its skin as it formed crimson replicas on its vast upper limbs. “Nice,” it complemented mockingly. “Let’s see if you can use them properly.”

Canary charged forward, jumping up at its head with a roundhouse kick. It secured her foot within its grasp and flicked its wrist, sending her to the ground. Huntress was suddenly in her place, showering him in crossbow darts that he scurried to deflect as Batgirl wedged her weapon into his chest. He leapt back, flattening himself against the door to the casino basement as he attempted to compensate for the wounds he had received.

“I said move!” Batgirl bellowed, and dashed back the way she had came.

Huntress, her bow in one hand and staff in the other, scurried after her, releasing bursts of ammo as she did so. “Canary, move!”

“No, I’m going in!” Canary yelled determinedly.

Huntress stopped, desperation gracing her face. “No, you don’t understand! They’re explosive da - -”

An explosion rang throughout the sewers, sending a tremble through the tunnel. Both Huntress and Batgirl were bowled over by the shockwave. Chunks of the ceiling were unhinged and cascaded down around them.

“Go, go, go!” Batgirl roared, not aware of Canary’s situation.

She ran then, the fastest she had ever run before. Her legs pumped harder and harder with each passing second as sweat and sewer water drenched the entirety of her body. A lump rose in her throat and insanely hot tears streamed down her face as breathlessness consumed her…and then she was topside, Huntress panting for air beside her.

“Canary…” Batgirl spluttered. “Where…is…Dinah…?”

The ground rocked beneath them, and they crawled further into the alley as the pavement threatened to give way with sickening lurches. Huntress rested against a wall, a hand to her throat as Batgirl persisted with her exasperated enquiry. Tears of exhaustion still tore through the dirt caking her cheeks.

“Where…is…”

“She’s gone!” Huntress snapped. “She wanted to go back in through the door…but…the explosion…”

“Oh, God…” Batgirl murmured, as her best friend’s fate dawned on her.

Batgirl snapped to alertness as a shrill wail split her ears. She was instantly on her feet, her blades in her hands. “Dinah!”

“Only one person could make that amount of noise,” Huntress agreed, pushing herself to a standing position.

“The casino,” Batgirl noted, and darted out of the alleyway, towards the fateful building.

But the Canary was already bursting out of the front entrance, her hair flailing wildly around her as she staggered through the police perimeter wire and into the arms of the two Birds. The on-duty police officers raced from their car, guns drawn and figures coiled around the triggers as Omen emerged from the casino.

“Freeze!” one called anxiously.

“Pitiful creatures,” Omen murmured, and gestured. The guns swiveled in their hands, the barrels resting against their foreheads. “Self-professed heroines,” she declared, directing her attention to the Birds, “I give you this clichéd, yet necessary, ultimatum. Surrender now, or die.”

“Dinah, use your scream,” Batgirl whispered.

“I’ve exhausted it,” Canary intoned. “And my arm is throbbing like crazy.”

Huntress stepped to the forefront. “Do you really expect us to give in that easily, Omen?”

“No,” Omen admitted. “Which is why I brought back-up. Please bring them back in one piece.”

With that, she was gone…but a trio of deadly figures replaced her.

“You killed one of our collective,” a female intoned. “You will not hurt another.”

“Collective?” Batgirl mumbled.

“Yes,” another female said, and the three metahumans stepped forward.

In the centre was a Gothic-styled woman, attired in a black-and-red outfit completed with fishnet tights and bulky boots. The strangest thing by far, however, was her hair. Thick locks of it, ebony in color, fell like a waterfall to the ground, writhing and twisting in a bizarre fashion. Each individual strand seemed to be…alive. Alive and struggling to break free.

“We are the Master’s Royal Guard,” she said, her tone fiercely melodramatic. “I am Tress.”

The second, to the right of her, was no less outlandish. Light bathed her chocolate skin as she slipped into a combative poise. She seemed to be Native American, oval-shaped eyes staring daggers at them from beneath a heavily defined brow. Her hair, a similar hue to her companion’s, was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail that fell just past her shoulders. A tan top ended far above her waist, whilst a loincloth was held at her waist by a rope. Gripped in her right hand was a wooden crossbow a little larger than Huntress’, but pulsing with an unearthly energy.

“I am Maya,” she growled, her voice heavily accented.

The final member of the trio, and the only male, was a complete contradiction to the bold and striking styles of Tress and Maya. Whilst they would stand out in a crowd, he would be unnoticeable amongst even a small gathering...if not for his obvious mutation. His slicked back blond hair was dull and began to emanate hints of grey at the edges. His eyes were a dull emerald, and the same color laced the veins in his hands. His throat also seemed to be a faded forest green, almost as if it was glitter from long ago. A brown rag hung loosely from his wiry frame, contrasting black trousers gripping his waist far too tightly.

“And this is Mute,” Maya finished.

A malicious smile touched Tress’ blackened lips. “He doesn’t talk much, but when he does…”

“Now we’re introduced,” Canary spat, “let’s get down and dirty!”

“Happy to,” Maya hissed, and dashed towards the blonde-haired heroine.

Huntress extended her staff with a flick of her wrist, launching herself at Tress, whilst Batgirl tightened her grip on the blades and charged towards Mute, trepidation almost glowing in her eyes.

Here we go…

Batgirl was not taken aback when Mute opened his mouth, but the word he murmured, and its effect, was shocking in the extreme.

“Overmaster,” he stated in a meaningless monotone.

A greenish ripple erupted from his throat, slamming into the leaping Batgirl and sending her crashing through a garbage can and clipping her hip on a fire hydrant. This extra impact span her through the air and she landed awkwardly on the concrete with an agonizing shriek. Mute’s eyes seemed to bore into her as he raised his hand. A focused beam of the same strange energy lanced outwards, but Batgirl rolled aside and it struck the pavement, spraying shards of stone outwards.

“Damn,” the vigilante cursed.

Pushing herself back into a standing position, she bounded towards her opponent, barely slipping aside a he launched more energy blasts at her, his palms speckled with the same dusty-substance as his neck. His jaw fell again, and Batgirl threw herself into a sloppy somersault, landing shakily in a side-alley. A concentrated blast from his fist struck the fire escape above her, sending hunks of rusty metal down towards her. She brought her blades up in a wide, protective arc, using all her strength to propel the rubble away from her.

This momentary success, however, was not to last, as another bolt impacted on her back and drove her into the side of the building. She gave out a short cry, and fell to her knees, her teeth almost grinding through her bottom lip as she resisted the unbearable urge to weep from the pain.

Don’t give ‘em the satisfaction! she thought determinedly, and rose to her feet once again.

Canary cursed as an energy bolt whizzed past her and seared through a parked truck. Flames erupted from the vehicle with a spectacular explosion that hurled Canary into the waiting arms of Maya. The Native American woman brought the butt of her weapon down upon Canary’s face, a purple-blue swelling appearing almost instantly as she did so again…

…and again…

Canary could barely feel the pain racking her face. It was almost a constant, and it felt as if it had lasted for an eternity. If only it would stop. If only…

“Dinah! Switch opponents!” Batgirl came from nowhere, her booted foot connecting neatly with Maya’s jaw. “Huntress, take this one! I’ll handle Tress!”

Canary felt Batgirl’s arm beneath her own, and groaned as her hazy vision finally began to clear. She was on her feet now, the one calling himself Mute opening his mouth.

“My master,” he whispered.

Canary let out a strangled cry, barely acknowledging the sting of the energy ripple until she found herself buried under glass from a café window. Rising dazedly into a standing position, her own jaw lowered and a familiar buzz tingled through her throat. Her sonic cry was back…just in time.

“Let’s see who’s louder,” she quipped, and unleashed a trademark sonic scream.

Mute’s body was caught like a straw in a hurricane, the sonic energy enveloping his very being as it hit him. He would end up in a small crater on the roof of a modest bakery, three blocks away. Unfortunately for him, it would be extremely painful getting there.

Canary turned, one gloved hand cupped around her cheek, gasping at the rush of pure anguish that surged through it. “She really did a job on me.”

Her eyes strayed across the impromptu battlefield, and nodded in satisfaction as she saw her teammates meeting with similar results. Nobody else was going to end up three blocks away, she was sure; but the pain would most definitely be a similar experience for each of Omen’s lackeys.

“I don’t understand!” Canary exclaimed. “They were here! They were here before the fight!”

“How do you know, anyway?” Huntress enquired, her voice challenging. “We thought you were dead.”

“I got blasted in here,” Canary answered, her voice faltering as she fell to her knees. Azure tears welled in her eyes. “They were here…”

“Don’t worry, Dinah, we’ll find them.” Batgirl slipped an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “I promise we will.”

“A promise isn’t good enough,” Huntress murmured, and strode towards the exit.

Batgirl released an exasperated sigh as Canary sobbed uncontrollably in her arms.

Epilogue

Bulk lumbered through the sewers, missing an arm from the earlier explosion. Patches of skin hung limply from his frame all over its body, and it staggered like a drunkard due to a missing chunk of its right foot. It had been wandering for days, maybe even weeks, without knowing its location. It glanced upwards as it passed the first sign of its journey, reading:



“I don’t know who you are, or what you are doing here,” a dark voice interjected from within the folds of the shadows. “But I want you out of my city.”

By the time it reached noon, Bulk would be in an even more dilapidated state.