Shadow Of The Nightshade

Surprises.

There's a fragile game you play

If the ghosts of yesterday

If we can't let go whenever, say goodbye

No trace of what remains

No stones to mark the graves

Only memories we thought we could deny

××

Batman stared through the glass window at the unconscious girl laying on an hospital bed in front of him.

'Was this necessary?' Canary asked in distaste.

'She said it herself, we need information and we are not getting it.' He replied, turning to his colleague.

'All the trust we built might all be for nothing after this!' She threw her hands in the air. 'Is it really worth it?'

'Do you think that she ever trusted us for one minute, for one second? It's all a game to her. She doesn't care about all the people she could hurt by withholding information.'

'I wouldn't trust us if I was her, you know.' She sighed. 'We didn't even try to win her trust, we don't deserve it.'

Bruce turned away.

'You took the one person who did, away.' The heroine crossed her arms. She has nothing to tell us.'

'I know.'

××
Unknown location.

The lights were off but there was movement in the room. The darkness appeared to warp around the figures kneeling on the floor.

In front of them was a woman, features obscure in the darkness. She sat behind a desk, her eyes seeming to hold a bone-chilling coldness that saw into their souls.

'What do you mean you can't find her?' Her voice was calm, soft and quiet, but the effect of it on the four silhouette's in front of her was apparent.

'I. . . It's been over a week and-' One of the shapeless figures spoke up, his voice trembling, hands shaking.

'Exactly! It has been exactly thirteen days, why haven't you found her?' The woman got up.

'It's impossible,' The figure jumped backwards in fear. 'We deployed all our intelligence networks, she can't be found.'

The sound of a sword pulled free from the confinement of it's scabbard ensued, followed by a thud as the figure fell to the floor.

'Does anyone else what to say that it is "Impossible"?' The cold azure eyes scanned the room.

The three remaining people shook their heads fervently.

At that moment the lights came on.

The lady's head whipped to the side to face the door, strands of dark blue hair tangled around her neck at the sudden motion.

'My lady,' A brusque man with two hideous scars cutting across his face called out indifferently, then asked in worry. 'Is something wrong?'

'Seems I lost my temper there.' She paused, as though enjoying her own private joke. Ignoring his question, she turned to the man bleeding on the floor. 'Take him to the infirmary.'

The scarred man stood still, his gaze falling on the growing pool of blood on the dark wood floor, looking as if wanting to say something. He looked into the dark blue eyes of the new leader of the Gotham's Nightshade.