Komodo Protocol
“You seen what they got going on in Demolitions?” Frank asks around his bacon. “Somethin’ real nasty, looks like.”
“No, I’ve been stuck on ‘light duty’ all week.” Antoine rolls his eyes. “You get one bug and everyone’s on your ass.”
“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have tried breaking out of Medical all those times.”
“Shouldn’t have passed out mid-meeting, either.” Jimmy cackles. “Dude, if you died, we’d be fucked. Riley’s an enabler.”
“Clyde would take over,” the Knight says dryly. Jimmy squeaks. “Meeting at nine hundred.”
Meeting, not assembly. Something’s come up, then, because they had their weekly briefing two days ago. There hadn’t been anything of note at the time; next shipment of drones to Gotham, more than anything. Antoine’s pretty sure it was largely an excuse to hide from Deathstroke, who had left that afternoon anyway.
“Yessir.”
Once he’s gone, Jimmy leans in.
“So? What do you think’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Everything’s on schedule, and I haven’t seen anything weird come up.”
“Think something’s up in Gotham?”
“Maybe.” He finishes his coffee and tries–and fails miserably–at repressing a cough. “I’m fine, coughs linger, that’s not illegal!”
Mark frowns.
“That sounded ugly.”
“That’s what coughs do.” He’s not whining. He’s not. “Leave me alone, I’m better now.”
“I want you in my office after this meeting. Just for a quick check-up.”
“Oh, come on–”
“Forget, and I’ll come find you.”
Ugh. Fine. He’ll go. But he’s not going to like it.
* * *
“What is that?”
“Insurance.”
Okay. Insurance is always good. This, however, appears to be a bigass mine. Three feet in diameter, easy, and well-armored. Could probably withstand a Cobra drone rolling over it.
“Uh-huh,” Frank drawls. “For what.”
“It’s primarily to keep the military from getting involved.”
Antoine’s got news for him: the military, generally, considers Gotham as ‘fend for your fucking selves’ and probably would just pretend they didn’t see anything anyway. But sure. A little extra reassurance is nice.
“Also to keep anyone–or anything–else from stepping in.” Okay, that one’s fair. “It won’t hurt you if you walk on it; the sensors need more weight to activate the electricity.” Oh, it’s electric, too? Wonderful. “We’ll be deploying them pretty early in the night, once the drones have all been deployed.”
“They won’t fuck with the programming, will they?” Jimmy risks poking the thing. “It’s not like an EMP or whatever?”
“It shouldn’t, but I want you, when you map out the patrol route, to try not to run over them. I’ll give you a map of where I want them sometime next week.”
“How many are there?”
“Fourteen.”
Trent whistles.
“Jesus.”
“Gotham’s a big place.” The Knight shrugs. “We’re not shipping these over ahead of us; they go when we do. Clyde, I’m going to be making a special dummy; same sensors, I want to run some tests with the Cloudburst tank. If it comes to that, I’d really rather not blow this entire operation…literally.”
“Very funny, sir,” Frank says dryly. “I’ll make sure she’s ready to roll when you are.”
“Good. You five are dismissed. Drouot, you’re not.”
That doesn’t sound promising.
The others file out, though, leaving Antoine with the boss and a giant, scary-looking mine.
“These are also a contingency.”
And there it is. The boss has contingencies for his contingencies, which is, Antoine guesses, why they’re all still on this crazy crusade.
“Okay?” The Knight holds out a piece of paper with numbers on it. Antoine raises an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
“The activation code to set these all off at once. In the event that I somehow end up incapacitated, unless I explicitly told you otherwise, I want you to initiate the Komodo Protocol: order a retreat and blow Gotham off the map.”
“Sounds like overkill.”
“When dealing with Batman, there is no such thing as overkill.”
“If you say so, sir.” Such an innocuous little paper. Ten digits. Ten digits and boom, one of the largest cities in the world turned into a charred crater. “Does Scarecrow know about this?”
“No, and we’re not mentioning it. If that code needs to be used, he doesn’t need to be informed.”
Well, in all honesty, Scarecrow is the one most likely to trigger this event. Antoine has never trusted the guy. He’s convinced that, Batman be damned, if he saw a chance to poison them all, he’d take it.
“Hopefully it won’t come to that, sir.”
“Hopefully not.” The Knight looks at the mine. “But I’d rather be prepared.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea, boss?”
The boss just laughs.
“Probably not. Look, it’s like the bomb vests. I highly, highly doubt we’ll need it.”
Yeah…the bomb vests have not been mentioned to the troops at large. Voluntary or not, most people are not going to like the idea of a suicide vest being anywhere near them. If it comes down to that, then they’ll worry about it.
“If you say so, sir.” He looks from the paper to the mine again. “Did you need anything else?”
“No. You can go; I think Jones wanted to see you.”
Dammit.
* * *
“I’m sure that by now most of you have become aware of the events at Arkham Asylum.”
Antoine’s voice is hoarse, going in and out a little. He hasn’t slept, not really. Sure, Mark got a power nap out of him, but that’s about it and it wasn’t enough. He looks like shit, too, all washed out and with eye bags big enough to take on a cruise. That’ll happen, when you spend too much time in a chair.
“Batman do that, sir?”
“Yes and no. Before I continue, I want it clear: Batman is now considered a level five threat.”
“We can take him. Right, boys?” A cheer goes up. “Just tell us where he is, we’ll bring his head back in two hours.”
Ha. Trent disagrees. Bastard’s got clown morals with Bat-bullshit, if he’s still alive–and he probably is–‘taking him’ is going to be a real bitch. It’s doable, probably, it’s just going to be difficult, especially with their best resource on both Batman and Joker being at death’s door.
Antoine’s smile is wintery and the cheer dies down, gives way to an uneasy silence. Trent can’t blame them for that. He’s usually the nice one. Nice is relative, but still.
“What you’ll be up against isn’t Batman anymore,” he says. “Now, I’m sure you all attended the briefing regarding the Joker’s death of TITAN poisoning.” Pfft. Trent knows damn well they didn’t, but that’ll keep them from jabbering. “Before that incident, the Joker supplied hospitals with tainted blood, and apparently gave Batman a transfusion as well. The cure didn’t take.”
He turns to his laptop and taps a few keys. On screen, the footage Jimmy managed to get from the boss’s helmet earlier on Halloween looms large. Trent shudders. He’s seen some shit in his day, but that–a laughing, maniacal Batman attacking with full intent to kill–is in the running for his personal Top Five WTF. Thankfully, Antoine only lets it play for a few seconds, but those few seconds are enough to quiet the skeptical mutterings.
“That’s what you’re up against now. He will kill you, without a second thought. He has already killed Scarecrow–”
“Shit, we work for Richardson now?”
“No. The Arkham Knight dispatched her before the asylum blew up.”
At least that one stuck. Last thing they need is that vindictive little monster blaming them for what happened to Scarecrow.
“For the moment, we are going to continue as we were. I want drones sweeping the city, checkpoints manned, and watchtowers fully operational. If anybody sees anything, you call in immediately and you wait for backup. Don’t be a hero, your insurance does not cover facial removal.” There’s a smattering of nervous chuckles that Antoine does not join in. “Patrols: minimum of four, do not let each other out of your sight. Someone has to piss, you all go. Someone falls in one of those damn potholes and breaks an ankle, you all come back to base as a group. Understood?”
“Yessir.”
“Good. Any questions?” If they have any, they don’t ask them. Antoine closes his laptop, disconnects it, and turns on his heel. “Dismissed.”
Trent steps in fully as they file out. A few of them flinch, but most of them just keep moving.
“You look like shit,” he says bluntly. “Mark’s right, you need sleep.”
“I’m fine. Anything?”
“Couple of false alarms.”
“So no.”
“No.”
“Damn.” Antoine runs a hand through his hair. “Any change with the boss?”
“Still out. Look…what are we going to do, if he…doesn’t…wake up? Batman’s Gotham’s problem, right?”
Antoine just laughs, a little bitter, and starts towards the door.
“He only got maybe a quarter of the mines. We pull our men out and blow this city to Kingdom Come, see him walk that off.”
“What?”
“Komodo Protocol.”
Trent’s heard of it. Well, seen it, in packets, but there’s never been any information about it. It’s just come up as, like, the last resort, no specifications.
“That’s what that is?” he demands. “Detonate the mines?”
“If it comes to that, yes.”
“Jesus Christ, man–”
“My orders are to put the bastard down, whatever it takes.” Antoine turns towards the back hallway. “Check in with the Arkham troops again, make sure they don’t need any further supplies. Did you send them a Cobra?”
“Yeah, earlier.”
“Good. Keep me posted.”
“Antoine.”
“What.”
“You’re sure about this?”
Antoine stops and turns around, swaying a little at the sudden change of direction.
“Yeah. If he dies, or doesn’t start waking up in another day or two, I’m calling it. We’ll finish the job one way or the other.” Jesus. “This stays between us for now. It may not come to that and there’s no reason to unsettle everyone.”
Trent nods.
“All right. You sure you’re not gonna grab a nap?”
“I’m fine.”
Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Look, Frank or Mark will probably bring the hammer down soon and when they do, Trent will be right there to enforce Bedtime.
“I’m gonna take a squadron out there,” he says. “Me and Riley: we’re taking some of his guys to investigate the little Batcave thing that turned up this morning.”
“Good. Stay in touch; that lecture goes for everyone.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll find the bastard.”
“Hope so.” Antoine turns back around and starts walking again. “Good luck.”
THE END
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