Atop Brownstone Manor
The armored vigilante spiritualist known as Azrael is knelt before a small cauldron seething with aromas from assorted resins. His left hand is scribing an elaborate sigil with chalk upon the cement ground beneath him as his thoughts are guided by whispers from his haunted raiment, the design taking the shape of circles within circles like a Galilean representation of the solar system. His hand draws in frantic spasms of movement, an odd precision of certitude gripping his gestures.
After some time of this arcane ceremonial enactment, a shuddering sigh escapes his lips beneath the crimson emblazoned faceplate. His senses return in a haze at first as he studies what he has produced. Instinctually, he knows what the glyph before him means, and a voice rings in his consciousness verifying it.
"You must begin at the reservoir," sounds the hollow voice of Geoffrey de Cantonna, his disembodied shadow casting itself over his shoulder in the outline of a fully armored crusader knight.
Azrael responds out loud to the shade,"Aye. Events are coming full circle. A new player has enterred the game at the behest of an old. His powers are corrupted, his life isn't his own and never has been but was once capable of bringing greatness. Now his existence is frought with madness. His wielder doesn't understand the thing he has hold of."
Geoffrey responds with a tone of irony,"Not unlike yourself. A kindred perhaps."
Azrael snorts snoftly in derision, but acknowledges,"Perhaps. We should get started in any event, the window will not remain open forever."
With that, the sword bearing shadow knight slips into the darkness. His medieval raiment doesn't appear to hinder him in the slightest. More ominously, if anyone were around to listen closely they might've heard the barest whisper of a prayer in latin as his form stole out into the city to begin his investigation.
***
The Gotham City Reservoir, shortly after midnight
This part of the city, while home to the various public works, is as interesting after dark as any other. Two Face's thugs frequent it, the name of their game being racketeering. They control the public unions that run employment in this area and their presence doesn't end with the work day. One thing that can be said for his breed of criminal, they do dress better than most in the city as the former lawyer holds them to a measure of discipline not found among the other Gotham cartels.
A spectre looms atop a warehouse watching a small group of ruffians in khaki pants and polo shirts. A few of them have bomber jackets doubtless concealing sawed off shotguns or submachine guns, fringe benefits from Two Face's alliance with the Penguin against Joker. The spectre watching them has a barely visible crimson bat across a feminine chest, a shock of similarly colored hair flutters in the breeze as eyes observe from behind a mardi gras reminiscent domino mask.
Batwoman's beat frequently carries her this way, as does Nightwing's. Tonight it's her turn to keep them in line however. The water treatment facility is staffed twenty four hours, and these goons are wontto harrass them periodically. She means to keep them honest, their presence being tolerated as they also keep out the less savory human wildlife.
A lady steps out of the officebuilding in front of the treatment facility, cigarette and lighter in hand signifying her break time. A couple of the goons immediately take notice of this and Batwoman is utterly compelled to roll her eyes at them. She shifts her posture while waiting to see what happens.
The group chuckles amongst themselves while nodding the lady's way. She seems oblivious to this, doubtless used to it. She even lights up as a pair from the group walks her way.
"Hey sweet thing, you know it's dangerous to be out here by yourself at this hour right?" Says a swarthy man in a leather jacket over a red polo shirt, his hair slicked back to emphasize his widow's peak.
The lady furrow's her brow, unintimidated by their approach by her reply,"You know there's a security camera pointed this way, right?"
His partner rests his hands on his hips as he grins and says,"Yeah, but what good's that without a guard out here to do anything that they see on it?"
She drags on her cigarrette and blows a puff at his face before answering that,"I guess you're the local boy scout troopmaster then. A real model of chivalry."
Batwoman notes the expression shift on the man's face from her bravado and picks up a penny from the ground next to her. Taking aim for a heart beat, she thumps it at the back of his head to let him know she's being watched. The man rubs the back of his head and looks up muttering,"Shit, it's one of the bats."
Batwoman grins at the acknowledgement, shaking her finger in his direction in the universal sign of 'don't do it'. To their credit, they step away from their mark and back to their group who walk away from their chosen post. The lady looks up her way and offers a little wave, thankful for the bailout.
As she watches the group move along, she becomes consciously aware of shadows moving along other nearby rooftops. She snaps off her grappler and shoots it to a nearby celltower to take off and see what's going on.
The figures moving in the dark could scarcely be more unusual. One of them is ironically bisected in his coloration with an orange and black mask showing only one eye. The other is a a hulking armored figure with a demonic visage, its face a leering image of a grinning maw beneath a pair of slanted eyes reminiscent of a japanese oni. Batwoman recognizes one of them immediately from files as Deathstroke and nearly breaks out in a sweat.
As if on cue, someone else confronts the power hitting duo. Not unlike Batwoman, this one's image stands out in the dark thanks to a crimson sign set against darkness. Unlike hers, this one bears a cross and announces himself with the drawing of a pair of burning swords, one silvery white and the other dark red.
Deathstroke chuckles as he and his mystery counterpart square off with the stranger, announcing,"Hello stranger. Who might you be? Do you know how to use those?"
Azrael doesn't answer except to twirl the silvery flaming scimitar upside down as he takes up a stance reminiscent of saber fencing with its red counterpart presented towards the duo in the manner of a challenge. Batwoman takes this chance to creep up behind them while they are occupied.
"Challenge accepted, this won't be long," says Deathstroke as he draws his own pair of katanas and gracefully bounds across the distance between them. Batwoman had heard that the man is superhumanly strong, but watching him leap from the middle of one building all the way to its neighbor with a single effortless bound inclines her to believe it.
Azrael advances with a conventional lead, his red burning scimitar flashing in the night to be parried overhead before flickering to a strike from below with a roll of his wrist. His fencing technique is impeccable as he holds his ground with a flurry of strikes from his one sword against Deathstroke's two.
"Not bad, not bad...but boring," intones the mercenary. He steps up his game, now that he's had a taste of what the armored stranger offers. It doesn't escape his notice that as hot as the man's sword is burning, his offhand sword doesn't seem to be affecting his garb at all in spite of being apparently held against his back in defensive manner.
Deathstroke turns a sudden backflip, his foot raising directly at Azrael's chin forcing him to backstep from the blindingly fast maneuver. He finds himself on the defensive as Deathstroke presses him with a thrust aimed at a joint in his shoulder armor followed by a swipe at his midriff with his offhand blade demonstrating his ambidexterity. Azrael responds by dropping below his avenue of attack and bringing his own offhand weapon into play with a low underhanded slash followed by a horizontal hack rising below his arm forcing him to acrobatically evade.
Batwoman is amazed at the exchange of artistic swordsmanship playing out at the neighboring building. She recognizes Azrael from the same source as Deathstroke and is incredulous that anyone could solo the likes of Slade Wilson with so limitted a background. The longer the fight carries on, the more elaborate the techniques become and in spite of Slade's incredible physical prowess, the Terminator is utterly incapable of penetrating Azrael's defensive techniques.
Batwoman makes her way directly behind the armored mountain of a man that accompanied Deathstroke when the Terminator asks the Shadow Knight,"I'm impressed. Been a long time since I had a good one on one workout and I don't even know your name."
The knight replies simply,"Azrael," and the moment he does a snarling voice erupts from the armored figure,"LIAR!"
She can't believe the way the man moves as she attempts to tackle him from behind, it's as if he simply disregarded her as she latches onto his back only to realize his protection is too complete for her to try a chokehold takedown like she intended. The man snarls like a wild thing and explodes into action with a leap no less impressive than Deathstroke's as he engages the man who introduced himself as Azrael with sharp gauntlets slashing savagely.
Azrael backpedals from the man as Batwoman kicks off of his back when he joins melee, not wanting to be cut by burning blades. The action momentarily offbalances the mystery enemy, but he's too driven to care and he proves it by catching the silvery burning blade when it slashes at his lobstered midsection. A strange thing happens, and they all notice frost creep along his hand and up his arm thickening into an earnest sheet of ice the longer he grips.
Deathstoke calls to him,"Idiot, let go before your hand is frostbit!"
The man ignores him, then he goes further and marches towards the edge of the building as Azrael refuses to relinquish his blade to him and gets his other hand arrested when he tries to fight back. The mystery man fiercely declares,"You are not Azrael, you're a liar. Now die!"
Before he can throw Azrael off the building, Batwoman drop kicks him from behind. The man is knocked down, releasing his wouldbe victim. Azrael takes the chance to roll defensively away from him, the ice sheet on the man's arm shattering as he flexes that hand and pounds it furiously against the roof. A crater of pulverized concrete evidences his power.
Batwoman pulls a smoke pellet from her belt and throws it in the man's face before he can get on his feet properly, unfortunately her reward is to be snatched from behind and thrown to the ground forcefully where she can look up at Deathstroke aiming a pistol at her face,"I have to insist. Don't interfere further."
She blinks, unable to hide her nervousness at this. Batwoman asks as the two armored fighters square off,"Who the hell is that?"
Deathstroke candidly answers,"The last man to carry that name. I don't think he appreciates someone else wearing it now. I don't know why either, he wears a different one now."
Azrael asks him, breathing heavily from having narrowly gotten away from his imposing adversary,"So what is your name?"
The man gestures to himself with his gauntletted hands like claws as he answers in a snarling voice,"Samael the Accuser."
Azrael snorts at the answer, a sense of understanding coming over him. He readies himself with his two blades gripped in reverse now. He presents the pommels towards his opponent, and Deathstroke comments,"How the hell is he not burning himself..."
Batwoman glances their way now, mildly mystified at the obvious herself,"Beats me..."
Oracle chooses now to pipe up in her earpiece,"Batwoman, what's going on?"
She mutters under her breath a reply,"Not now, not a good time."
Deathstroke chuckles as they watch the two fighters go at it. The swordsman is swift, avoiding the savage swipes and advances of the better armored Samael. He counters by striking at his joints with the pommels of his swords, metallic thuds resounding from the impacts that seem to have no effect. Deathstroke comments idley to his captive for the moment,"Go ahead, tell your friends. This will likely be over when they get here."
As if proving the point, Samael manages to get a hold of Azrael's cloak and slings him to the ground by it. Wasting no time, he marches over to the grounded swordsman and takes hold of his faceplate to smash his head against the ground. Azrael grunts under the impact, and before he can experience it a second time he has his dark red sword in hand and thrusts up with certainty piercing the man standing over him.
All three gasp collectively at what they witness. Azrael's burning red sword pierces Samael's armor as it weren't even there, indeed there seems to be a bright white hole around where it penetrates and his entire form seems illuminated in a pale glow. He seems paralyzed standing there.
Deathstroke mutters crossly,"Dammit...what just happened..."
Batwoman replies in a distant but matter of fact tone,"You lost."
Oracle comes through her earpiece,"Ok. Seriously. What the hell is going on?"
Batwoman replies,"I don't know. But I'll tell you later."
The two witnesses are mystified as Samael backs from Azrael, seeming to slide off of his blade with no evidence of being stabbed. His form shudders quietly as he stands there looking down. Samael seems to recover his senses as Deathstroke approaches him and starts,"Lets get out of here before..."
Samael screams at him, cutting off his statement,"Stay away!"
Just like that, he then turns and leaps from the roof to make his way into the night. Deathstroke glowers at the disapearing man, then turns to Azrael and spits,"This is your doing."
Deathstroke knows he can't take them both at the same time. Azrael had proven himself a peer with the blade, though he hasn't sampled the female bat's prowess for himself as yet. He doesn't care to take his chances either so throws a smoke bomb to the ground and makes his getaway.
Batwoman waves the acrid smell from her face and coughs while muttering something about good riddance. Azrael seems to disregard it on the other hand, calmly sheathing his seemingly magical blades.
She asks him from maddening curiosity,"So what are those swords?"
Azrael answers in a matter of fact tone of his own,"The twin swords of Sin and Salvation. I confronted Samael with the guilt of his actions. He'll be thinking on them for a while, but he'll be back. He's a dead man walking, but his soul isn't truly lost. Not yet."
Batwoman just stares at him, wondering if he believes his own words. After a long moment passes of wordlessness, Azrael turns from her to head on his way. She considers saying something, but in the end just heads on her way with a snap of her grappler. Oracle will be wanting to know about this, and Cassandra too.
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