#closed;

~. "...Are you sure about this, boss?"

"No. But we're doing it anyway."

It wasn't like they had a choice in the matter. So as they came rolling into the abandoned parking lot of the equally abandoned hospital, Harvey didn't waste any time heading out. They motioned his driver, Bob, to come with them.

Time couldn't be wasted no more. Time was something he couldn't afford be seen wasting now that when someone close to him risked being killed.

Everything that had been said during that phone call with Crane repeated in his head. The hints that Bianca was barely pulling through, but alive. The clue to Heckland still being in the building. It was enough for adrenaline to kick up a notch, putting his shared body into a headlock.

This is a trap.

I know that.

And you're stupid enough to wander straight into it.

You have any other ideas?

Alongside of Bob, they marched inside. The hospital was a big place -- and they could be searching the whole damn place until their time ran out.

Better reach out first.

[ msg >> BINARY ]: We are here. .~

>. BATCAVE. 2.24 AM.

Subtle but sharp, the faint blue glow of the Batcomputer had begun to flicker.

The big wide screen that was otherwise filled with encrypted data, surveillance feeds and research was replaced by duplicating screens of black and white code - slowly empowering the entire system until it all came crashing down in one fell swoop. A self-defense mechanism created within the computer to shut out whoever just tried to break in.

The back-up generator kicked into the gear mere seconds after. Rebooting up the entire cave back to it's hum, instilling the peace and quiet once more - but not everything had returned to normal.

One of the windows that had appeared out of nowhere was still in the center of the screen - a pulsating message in binary code being sent over and over - an endless wall of text of the same 1's and 0's.

>> 01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101111 00100000 00001101 00001010 01100010 01110010 01110101 01100011 01100101 00100000 00001101 00001010 01110111 01100001 01111001 01101110 01100101 << >> 01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101111 00100000 00001101 00001010 01100010 01110010 01110101 01100011 01100101 00100000 00001101 00001010 01110111 01100001 01111001 01101110 01100101 << >> 01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101111 00100000 00001101 00001010 01100010 01110010 01110101 01100011 01100101 00100000 00001101 00001010 01110111 01100001 01111001 01101110 01100101 <<

Above it was a warning text -- flashing in red. Sending off an alarm that begun to echoe like a siren through the cavern -- alerting anyone nearby and connected to it.

>> UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED.<<

Shouldn't have given her that earpiece, Batman.<

There was nothing Henry could do but accept the rain as it pelted down on his head. His jacket didn't have a hood and he hadn't expected the downpour that had come seemingly out of the blue.

Instead, he let the drops fall on him and soak his face and hair as he waited for his newest client to open their door after he rang the bell.

Finally, they did; he greeted the stranger with a smile.

Well, here he was.

Somewhere in the back of his brain, he could clearly here Dorothy saying, “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” Or something like that. Because the last thing he knew in the whirlwind of things happening was being at home with his mother, holed up because some sort of armed agents were coming for him. And the next, he was cuffed and dragged away, and handled roughly. Somewhere in between, he’d had a shutdown, overwhelmed by the noises and sounds.

Then he heard words like “variant” and “guilty”. Of what?

Then pain. Silence. Then he was awake on a dusty field, with faint crashing noises. No more cuff or collar, but he definitely didn’t know how to get home from here. His magic felt… shut in, and there was a storm off in the distance, rapidly approaching.

Her shoulder hurt. But, honestly, what did she expect? She had landed on it. So long as it wasn't broken... maybe a torn rotator cuff. She'd had that happen more times than she could count. The pain was always the same. And so was the slight slouch of one side as it rested somewhat limply on her side. She let out a low breath-- more a hiss really-- as she shrugged out of her jacket. Oh, yeah, that was... not fun. She rolled the one shoulder experimentally and an almost yelp escaped her mouth, the pain making her legs go to jelly and force her to grab a crate nearby with her good arm. "Fuckin'--" she gasped out. She'd say that's gonna leave a mark but there was already a mark-- a nasty black and blue blob interrupting the ink there on her back. She considered her options... which weren't a lot. Usually her first option was just to tough it out. Not in a 'pain is weakness leaving the body' way but 'nobody can know this fucking stings like nobody's business'.

Steeling herself, she bunched her jacket up in her good hand and kept walking until she had nearly reached the markets. Then she slipped into a bar where she ordered the strongest possible thing.

She collapsed into a seat and sighed.