Twenty minutes later, Terry taxied the jet into the Bat Cave.  The overhead lights turned on the moment he had tripped the cave’s sensors and they recognized the Batjet.  He shut down the vehicle and popped the hatch.

“Bruce!  I need some help!” he bellowed, climbing out.  He carefully took hold of Jason and started to maneuver him out as he heard footsteps running his way. There was no way it was Bruce: Bruce couldn’t run even if the cave was on fire.

“Why do you have to yell?—Oh, man!” Another young man appeared, a high school friend of Terry’s named Max. Max froze when he saw who was in the jet. “Is he alive?”

“No. I brought home a dead body.” Terry stared at him in disgust. He should have known he’d be around. Now that Max knew he was Batman, he was spending more and more time at Wayne Manor, helping Bruce keep the Bat Cave up to optimum working order. “Bruce is supposed to be getting the triage ready.”

Max’s concerned gaze raked over Jason before he came closer.  “He is. He called me down here to help.”

With Max’s help, he maneuvered Jason out of the jet and carried him towards a small hall to the left of the entranceway. The hall was twelve feet high and wide enough for three people to walk abreast of each other.  It ran for twenty feet before opening into the working area of the Bat Cave.  He walked past several monitors to a doorway and entered the triage room.

Bruce had draped a fresh sheet over the bed and was going through the cabinets, pulling out things he thought they’d need, placing them on a silver tray.

Terry gently laid Jason on the bed, raking his eyes over his brown uniform.  They would have to get him out of it in order to treat him, but Terry didn’t see any visible seams. He’d never thought to consider asking Princess how they got in and out of them and wasn’t sure she would have told him.

“What are we dealing with?” Bruce asked over his shoulder.

“Multiple gunshot wounds,” Terry answered, moving the dusty blue cape out of the way as he and Max continued to look for a way to remove the uniform. “I thought their uniforms were bullet proof.”

“Apparently not,” Bruce said wryly.

“I can’t believe it. The Condor. Here. In the Bat Cave.” Max chuckled and then cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

Bruce pushed over a rolling table with the silver tray on it.  He, too, started looking for a seam.

“We have to get this off him to treat him,” Bruce said, running his arthritic hands along the Condor’s sides.

“You’re stating the bleeding obvious,” Max quipped and got a glare from the older man.

Bruce returned to his work. He felt nothing to indicate an opening in the smooth brown fabric. “Can you two lift him? Maybe the opening is under the cape?”

Terry thought that was as good an idea as any. That was where his seal was, under his hidden wings. He and Max gently lifted Jason up to a sitting position so Bruce could take a look.

Mark and Princess went to Jason’s last known location to look for clues to his whereabouts. In everyday life, Jason was known not to respond to a summons on his bracelet if he didn’t feel like it, but on missions, Jason was coldly efficient and his not answering was twisting Mark’s stomach. Princess was starting to look frightened, but was trying to keep things official.

“G-3 to G-2, please respond,” Princess tried again. Not hearing anything, she bit her lip. “G-2, please respond.” She felt Mark’s hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s go down this street. If we don’t see anything, we’ll go the other direction,” Mark told her quietly and Princess nodded, swallowing the fear creeping up her throat. It was then she noticed how quiet it was. Granted, it was midnight, but this was a suburb of Washington DC. It usually wasn’t this quiet.

“Mark, it’s too quiet,” she said, her eyes darting about. Mark glanced at her as they started down the street.

“I noticed. Stay close.”

As they walked, staying close to the buildings, Princess activated the infrared feature of her visor, giving her a view of the whole visual spectrum. She didn’t see anything to indicate anyone was hiding from them or waiting in ambush.

They came to an alley and Mark froze. Princess turned and then saw what he saw: five bodies, all in green, cooling.

They looked around, making sure no other Spectrans were about before they entered the alley. Mark crouched down beside the first Spectran body, keeping clear of the puddle of blood around it. The Spectran’s throat was sliced wide open.

“It looks like a wound from my boomerang,” he commented, keeping clear of the puddle of blood.

“Then who killed them?” Princess asked, examining the other bodies, looking for more clues. “I don’t see any bullet wounds or shuriken. Jason’s cable gun wouldn’t leave wounds like that.”

“We’re in Gotham. Maybe they ran into Batman,” Mark quipped and stood, looking up. Clouds had moved in since they had started searching for Jason, leaving the sky dark, the alley darker, so he didn’t see Princess sigh and look up at the nearest rooftop. He raised his arm. “G-4, we found some Spectran bodies.”

“G-2 get them?” Keyop asked.

“No. Get a clean-up crew to this location. We’re continuing on.”

“Roger Commander.”