Silent Danger in Gotham City

The following is a work of sexual fiction. Characters, locations, and many other elements of this story are the property of DC Comics. It was written with a deep respect for said characters and is intended for the non-commercial enjoyment by similar fans. The story can be considered a parody, with no copyright infringement intended and no revenue drawn from it.

This story is set in Gotham City, however, it does not contain any of the cast of characters you would usually find there.

*****

On the night of October 7th, 1970, an Army APC-84 traveled down a dark road in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. The six-wheeled vehicle ordinarily transported troops and equipment into and out of difficult areas. Tonight it served a different purpose; it carried a pair of Air Force scientists, six Army Rangers, and several crates labeled top secret.

The vehicle was in the middle of negotiating a switchback when a narrow, green beam came out of the dark woods and illuminated the trucks triangular front. Seconds later, the engine exploded. The blast killed the driver and sent the front wheels flying in different directions. The mangled, flaming frontend crashed to the road and ground to a halt.

Even before they knew what happened, the Rangers' training kicked in. They turned off the safeties on their M-16's and formed up to exit the rear of the vehicle. Before they had the chance, shots came through the canvas cover of the payload area. In the blink of an eye, all six soldiers were cut down.

The scientists knew what would be coming next. They picked up the weapons of the fallen Rangers and aimed at the rear of the vehicle. Within seconds a figure in a gold jumpsuit and helmet that covered his entire head climbed in. The scientists fired on the mystery assailant. The shots connected, sending him falling back and out from where he came. They had just seconds to feel the exhilaration of winning their first firefight when what looked like a tennis ball bounced in from outside.

The ball rolled past the fallen soldiers and landed near the scientists. It exploded with the same green light from before. Their bodies went numb and they fell to the floor. As their consciousness faded they could see several more men dressed in gold jumpsuits enter the destroyed truck.

***

The Office of Strategic Services was an intelligence agency based in Washington D.C. It was created after the attack on Pearl Harbor to centralize the intelligence collection functions of the US military forces. At the time it was referred to as Spies at War. The most talented men and women in science, diplomacy, economics and other fields were recruited into the organization. After the war, it became an international organization focusing on different types of threats.

The Gotham City branch of O.S.S. took up the middle two floors of a nondescript office building in midtown. It appeared to be an ordinary engineering company. In reality, it was the operation center for 40 members. Everything from investigations, missions, communications, surveillance, coordination with other organizations and intelligence extrapolation were run in secret there. It was one of the larger branches due to the unusual activity that always seemed to happen in the city.

It was the morning of April 8th, 1971. As Libby Lawrence entered the O.S.S office she was met with a smile by the receptionist. "Hello, Libby good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Toni. Your wedding is in just a few weeks. Are you nervous?"

"Not really... maybe about the weather. My fiancé is out of his mind nervous. You'd think it was going to be on live T.V. or something."

Libby laughed; "I can believe that. I'm here to meet with the Director."

"Yes, he's been expecting you. The meeting is in conference room two. I'll buzz you through."

"Thanks so much. If I don't see you before then; good luck."

"Thank you."

Libby walked through the electronically unlocked door into the main office area. It was the usual flurry of activity. O.S.S. officers moved about, talking, answering phones and pouring over paperwork. She was unnoticed as she made her way to conference room two. It was one of the smaller and simpler rooms, with two doors and a round table capable of seating eight. She was the first there, so she took a seat.

About a minute later a man came through the same door she did. He was tall, about six foot two, and lean, about 190 pounds. He had well-cut red hair and striking blue eyes. He was wearing a white collared shirt, blue pants, and a tie. He was every bit a good looking man. With a smile and extension of his hand, he said; "Hello, I am Chris Ambler."

"Libby Lawrence. Nice to meet you, Chris."

"Liberty Belle, right?"

"That's correct."

"I have read some of your case summaries. Very impressive work. Everyone in the O.S.S. could learn from the way you took down that smuggling group in Coast City and your later fight with Ten-Eyed Man. Outstanding work." Chris stated.

Libby was unsure how to respond. She couldn't remember a stranger ever being so complimentary, yet he seemed truly genuine in his comments. "Thanks. I apologize but you've got me at a disadvantage. I'm not familiar with your work."

"No need to apologize. I have not been in the field as much as you. Most of my work has been in intelligence analysis."

"What's your code sign?" Libby asked.

"KL-99."

Libby responded; "Ah, you're the scientist from space."

"That is close to accurate. I am from Earth but I was born, and lived in space for a large portion of my life."

"Are you working out of Gotham?" Asked Libby.

"No I am stationed in D.C. but they called me up here for this particular mission."

The other door opened, and an older man walked in. Regional Director Tex was in his early 40s with a distinguished look that fit the weight of his authority. Tex had been part of the Boy Commandos during World War Two. After the war, he advanced in the military and moved around with other government organizations. He had been with the O.S.S. for awhile and now held the most powerful job in the most active region. Gotham by far had the highest rates of non-normal activity.

"Welcome, it's good to see you both. I'm glad we were able to get you together for this particular mission. As you know, O.S.S. helped defeat the Axis, then spent years chasing down Captain Nazi and the other escapees. After that, Meta-humans like Doctor Double X and Shadow Thief started showing up. We spent years dealing with them. Then some guys claiming to be from the future just appeared in the middle of FBI Headquarters. If that wasn't bad enough, a comet full of "Fire People" landed in California looking to take all of our radium. After that, alien threats became a high priority for O.S.S."

Libby asked; "What's the mission Director?"

"Find and Recover. About six months ago an En'Taran space probe crashed in the Smoky Mountains. The Air Force was able to clean it up without the public finding out. A military convoy was transporting it to a secure site when it was attacked. The probe's power source was stolen."

"Who are the En'Tarans?" Questioned Libby.

Chris answered; "Adversaries of the Rann. They have been trying to buy, steal, take or claim Zeta beam tech. I have reason to believe that it was the En'Taran that attacked my colony and killed my father. The question is, what were they doing so close to Earth? Are they the ones who attacked the convoy?"

Tex replied; "No. There were a few survivors that identified the attackers as humans in gold jumpsuits."

"D.M.T." Libby piped in.

"I am sorry, I am not familiar with D.M.T.?" said Chris.

Libby explained; "D.M.T. stands for Distribution of Military Technology. They're an international weapons coalition who steal or develop weapons technology and sell it to the highest bidder. The smuggling group I took down had ties with them. They wear gold jumpsuits that are a type of body armor. They've upped their game if they've started stealing extraterrestrial technology."

Chris added a few comments; "The En'Taran use contained Anti-Energy fusion to power their technology. If this D.M.T found a way to remove the containment, the energy release would do a horrifying amount of damage."

Tex spoke next. "Now you know why the O.S.S. needs you both on this mission. We believe just that. D.M.T. has En'Taran tech, they've turned it into a weapon, and plan to sell it here in Gotham City. Chris, you're more familiar with the tech than anyone on the planet. Liberty you've already taken down groups like this. You two need to find the weapon, secure it and bring it back here."

Chris and Libby nodded in understanding. Tex shook both their hands and headed out of the room. Chris said to Libby; "I have some ideas, would you mind coming to the equipment lab?"

"No, not at all," Libby answered as they walked out of the room.

***

Pinned Down was an appropriately named bowling alley. It was in an area of Gotham called The Cauldron. This East End district was known as the hang out for most of the hitmen in the city. It was a smoky, broken establishment that stopped being a place of entertainment long ago. Now low-level criminals wasted time there between jobs.

Paula Brooks' heels tapped out a rhythm as she strutted across the wooden floor in a snug black dress that showed off her voluptuous figure. She drew stares from every low-life bit of trouble as she crossed the length of the place. One would think a woman of her appearance would be nervous with the attention she was getting. Quite the opposite; she carried herself with an 'I dare you' level of confidence.

As she approached lane twenty, she could hear the person she was looking for before she saw him. In contrast to the expected sound of rolling bowling balls, she heard what sounded like golf balls being driven off their Tee at high velocity. The source of the sound was a tall, wide and muscular man holding a metal slingshot.

"David Drayson, I presume." Paula asked.

"How you figure?" Grunted the man as he pulled back and released a shot that picked off the number six pin.

"Well, I'm looking for a David Drayson a.k.a. Slingshot. I was informed I could find him here. So here I am and you're the only one in the building holding a slingshot. Tell me I'm wrong and I, as well as my lucrative offer, will move along."

"Lucrative offerz are usually attention getterz. Ain't the kind of work I'm looking for." He said as another shot rocketed from his weapon, sending the last pin spinning into the air.

Paula said; "Yes that was some dirty business between you and the Star City police department. I can see why you'd want to lay low in Gotham. Don't worry. This job is far from the eyes of the cops."

Slingshot paused as the lane reset the pins, then said; "Sorry, don't tink I'm interested."

"Mr. Drayson take a second and realize that I found you. It won't take much for the Gotham P.D. to find you."

He drew a shot back and pointed it directly at Paula's face. His anger rippled through his masculine body. He snarled; "Bitch, you threatening me?"

"No Mr. Drayson, I'm offering you a job. A job that will pay you handsomely and possibly have a fringe benefit," Paula said as she traced her finger down her neck into her cleavage.

Slingshot lower the weapon and asked; "Just you 'n me on the job?"

"No, we'll need one more."

"Even three-way split?" Grunted Slingshot.

"No, two-way split. You and the other. I have a separate deal with my employer." Answered Paula.

Slingshot nodded; "Fifty percent cut, no cops, and benys?"

"That's the deal." quipped Brooks.

"Ok, I'm in." He raised his slingshot towards the pins and released. His shot forcefully struck the number one pin. The pin went flying backward, taking the other nine pins with it.

***

Chris and Libby arrived in the equipment room of the O.S.S. Gotham offices. It was a large room filled with wall racks, working tables, tool chests, and cabling. Chris made his way to the sensory equipment, grabbed a case a little bigger than a lunch box and sat down at one of the tables.

"What're we working on here?" Asked Libby.

"The En'Taran use Anti-Energy fusion to power almost all of their technology. This type of power gives off a specific type of radiation. I can alter this Geiger counter to detect that type of radiation."

"I see, what kind of range does it have?" She asked.

"About fifty yards." Responded Chris.

Unable to assist, Libby created conversation. "Is radiation your scientific specialty?"

"One of them. I was fortunate enough to be educated in all of the science disciplines and several types of engineering. The Rann also trained me in practical skills such as piloting, marksmanship, and hand to hand combat." Chris commented.

Libby found his nature interesting. Those comments from any other man would have come off as arrogant and cocky. With Chris it was different, he was humble and modest, just making conversation. His comments were followed by a compliment. "You have an impressive skill set yourself. Raised in a military home. College degrees in journalism and criminal justice. Three-time All American athlete in swimming, track and field, and gymnastics. Three gold medals for swimming at the last Olympics."

"Thanks, I like to keep busy." Libby continued to be intrigued with him. He'd obviously done research on her. He'd probably read her personnel file. She could've been insulted by this. His actions could've been seen as prying. But his nature was so calm and reserved that she knew it was just intellectual curiosity.

It was that curiosity that lead to Chris' next question. "You have Metahuman abilities, enhanced strength, speed, and stamina. Can I ask how you came about acquiring them?"

Libby answered comfortably; "Not at all. I'm from Philadelphia and was living there when I competed in the Olympics. After the games, the city had a celebration for me. Hometown girl wins gold, that sort of thing. The ceremony was at the Liberty Bell, and they rang the bell for me. I passed out. I had the powers when I woke up. Doctor's best guess is that the sound waves released a latent metahuman gene."

"Interesting," Chris started putting the unit back together. After a few moments he said; "I am done with this. It will help us find the device, however, I am at a loss on where to start looking."

Libby said with a smile; "Funny you should say that. I've got an idea."

"Well then, lead the way." Answered Chris.

***

Paula Brooks and Slingshot walked into Flynn's Fencing Club. Located in the Otisburg District of Gotham, it was once a small elementary school. As the homes of that area were replaced with professional sports arenas, the need for the school ended. Tucked in the shadows of those arenas, it is the practice facility for every expert and wannabe swordsman in the city.

The man sitting at the reception desk looked at them with a befuddled expression. "Can I help you?" He asked. "You don't look like the fencing type."

Paula flashed a seductive smile and leaned in, showing off her cleavage. "You're very observant. I'm not here to play with swords. I'm looking for Mortimer Drake. Is he here?"

The man answered; "Yeah he's always here. Down the hall, the last room on the left."

She thanked him and strutted away, knowing he was ogling her ass as much as he had her breasts.

They found two men in the practice room. One wore a fully guarded fencing outfit. The other wore just pants and boots. Both were using wider bladed swords rather than the standard foil. They moved about the entire room, rather than the forward-back standard fencing technique.

The shirtless man was an interesting sight at 6'1", with a thin wiry build. His long brown hair swayed as he sparred with his opponent. He had a handlebar mustache and narrow chin puff beard. A grin cut across his chiseled features. Most fencers had a stern and serious intensity during a match; he looked more amused.

"Mortimer Drake, we'd like to speak with you." Paula stated.

"Not now. Can you not see that I am occupied?" Replied the man as he continued to parry.

"Mr. Drake, or should I say Cavalier, timing is critical. We'd like to talk now."

"Well fine woman, if you have not the capacity for patience, then I have no interest in hearing what you have to say. You hold the decision. You can leave or you can wait until this match has been completed." He said as swords continued to clash.

Slingshot removed a shot from his pouch, placed it in the sling, pulled back and released. The shot hit the fully dressed participant square on the forehead area of his helmet. The man stopped and slumped to the floor unconscious.

Drake shouted; "Are you daft? He was the only one in the city that might be able to offer me a challenge and you go and off him for nothing?"

Slingshot paused before responding; "Eazy pointy pain, hez not dead. He'll be fine in a day or two after dat headache wearz off. Until den consider your match done and you hear what the lady haz to say."

"Mr. Drake I'm putting together a crew for a job that will pay you quite handsomely." Purred Brooks.

He walked to a chair, picked up a towel and dried his face. "I am aware of every for-hire job in this city. How is it that you know of one that I do not?"

"Because this is not a for-hire job. This is my employer's job. It's not going out to anyone. It's only going out to the three of us. Please, Cavalier, if you'd just come with us and listen to the deal I'm confident that you'll take it." Paula said as she put her hand on her hip.

"What makes you say that?" Cavalier responded.

"For one thing it's a good deal. For another, you'll find that I'm a very convincing woman."

"Alright then, let us hear what you have to say."

***

Libby drove an O.S.S. issued, nondescript, Chevy Beauville G20 Sportvan through parts of Gotham that Chris wasn't familiar with. He asked; "Where are we headed?"

"We're going to shake down some of the less upstanding used car dealerships." She answered.

Chris questioned; "What makes them our first step?"

"Something I learned breaking up that smuggling ring. It's important to keep changing your transport vehicles. Never use just one truck, plane, or boat from start to finish. The longer you use the same vehicle, the greater the chance of getting pinched by law enforcement. You also run the risk of getting your pocket picked by a rival organization. You have to keep switching it up." Libby explained.

Chris nodded slowly; "That makes sense. How do they make the switch?"

"The trade and temporary use of unowned, phony registered vehicles is a lucrative offshoot business. Pay a couple of hundred bucks for a car with no owner, no v.i.n. number and phony documents. Commit a crime with that car. If you're spotted it can't be traced back to you. If you're caught, the seller isn't an accomplice because he never owned it either. If you get away with it, you can sell the car to another dealer who will do the same thing." Said Libby.

Chris asked; "So you are thinking we should look into some shady used vehicle dealerships. If they have any trucks capable of handling the cargo we are looking for, then I can scan it for radiation. If we get a hit, shake down the owner for more information."

"You got it."

Chris said; "Flawlessly logical. Outstanding."

"Thanks."

This was the second time he'd complimented Libby and she didn't know what to make of it. Most men she knew, even O.S.S. male partners were slaves to chauvinistic male dominant behavior. Libby was starting to think Chris was genuinely different. He had a modest yet confident sensibility about him. He was so secure with himself that everyone around him could be themselves. He also knew he didn't know everything and was open to learning new things from anyone. She rarely found people interesting. Chris was definitely interesting.