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Tempest Island	By : HeyBats Category: DC Verse Cartoons > Justice League Views: 9796 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Diana woke up in a fog as bright sunlight poured into their room. Her arms were stiff and her still-sleeping brain told her that her limbs were suffering from a lack of blood flow.

‘Must have slept funny’ she thought.

She tried stretching her arms again then noticed a pair of menacles around her wrists and ankles. Her arms were pinioned behind her back and Diana’s eyes flew open with alarm as she explored the restraints.

She and Bruce were laying on their sides in bed, wearing similar restraints and still naked from the night before. Diana looked furtively around the room, trying to locate their attackers but the room was empty save the two of them.

"Bruce." She hissed in low whisper. "Bruce…wake up!"

"Ooooh…" he grumbled. "What hit me?"

"Shhhhh" she whispered. "I think your friends must have taken over the ship last night."

His eyes flashed open in instant recognition of the restraints. He inhaled deeply, trying to determine the origin of the attack. "I don’t smell anything. Must have used some kind of nerve agent. Are you all right?"

"I’m fine." She whispered back. "What about you?"

"Peachy…senses are all kind of dulled though." He strained against the menacles once, testing their strength, then gave up. "I should have anticipated that they would attack at night. It’s the easiest time to subdue the crew."

"Do you want me to get us out of here?" she asked with concern.

"No, there’s plenty of time for that later. Let’s just maintain our cover for now. If Wonder Woman makes an appearance, you’ll blow the lid off Bruce Wayne’s alter ago."

"Oh…Yo rig right of course. I didn’t think about that. How am I supposed to help you?"

"Let’s see what their demands are before we do anything rash. If they start killing people then do what you need to do, whatwhatever you do, don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine."

"I like to worry about you - " she started, but a loud scream down the hallway interrupted her statement.

"They’re probably working their way up the hallway." She said quietly. "Sounds like they’re two or three doors away from getting to us."

"Keep the women calm if we get separated." Bruce said grimly. "A few of them are the deep pockets but for the most part it’s the men who will be ransomed, if that’s their plan. If we’re separated for more than an hour, escape if possible and contact Alfred."

"With what?" she asked in surprise.

"All of Bruce Wayne’s belts carry an Ultra-Low Frequency emergency transponder. Can you reach my suitcase?"

Diana levitated off the bed briefly, retrieving a belt from the closet in her teeth, then she settled back down on the bed next to his prone form. She spit the buckle out between them, pausing briefly to kiss him with the same passion they’d shown the night before. She was disappointed that his kiss wasn’t returned with the same conviction. The Bat settled into his eyes as he showed her the workings of the transmitter. Diana followed his instructions, surprised at the simplicity of the design. He walked her through its operation a second time, then she was suddenly fearful of what might happen to him for the first time since she knew him.

"Don’t do anything stupid." She pleaded.

"When have I ever?" he smiled reassuringly, however the attempt didn’t ease her concern.

"You almost died on the Watchtower a few weeks ago…that was pretty stupid." She reminded him with a glare.

Their conversation was cut short a second later when two commandos entered the room. They were roughly pulled off the bed and thrown against the wall, still nude from the night before. Bruce started to denounce their attackers, demanding that they provide Diana with some clothes. The commandos hesitated for a second, appraising her nude form with appreciation, then shrugged and removed the restraints long enough for the two of them to pull on a pair of slacks and shirt. They also managed to each loop a belt around their wa bef before the restraints were replaceden ten they were hustled up the main-deck. Most of the passengers had already been brought up and looked worse for the wear as the effects of the nerve agent hadn’t yet worked their warougrough their systems.

The commandos were all carrying Sig-Sauer submachine guns and they worked their way thru the passengers, segregating the men from the women on opposite sides of the deck. Bruce and Diana were among the last couples parted and she looked at the commandos with anger as they pushed her roughly to the opposite side of the ship. Her temper was roused further when the commandos started forcing the women to put on Jilbabs, which Diana recognized as ttiontional Middle Eastern women’s clothes, covering the women from head to toe with an accompanying scarf to be worn around the head. Bruce shook his head once then took a deep breath, signifying that she needed to wait to ensure their plan was a success.

A stocky man standing on a walkway overlooking the main-deck stood patiently waiting for the last of the men and women to be separated. He had a long scar running down his left cheek and his face with pockmarked and hardened against the equatorial sun. His features indicated he was likely of Indonesian origin but his build suggested Arabian or Uzbek bloodlines had intermingled somewhere in his ancestry. The commandos obviously deferred to him in a way that left Bruce no doubt who was in command.

The man picked up a mega-phone from the deck floor and pushed the sqwak button as a sound check. The noise startled, then silenced the tittering amongst the passengers, who looked at him expectantly.

They didn’t have long to wait. He raised the megaphone to his mouth, "Welcome passengers of the Windsong. I am Salim. I apologize for this rude interruption. If you remain calm and cooperate with my crew then no harm will come to you."

"Where are you taking us?" Leonard Green suddenly shouted from the railing behind Bruce. Two commandos sought him out and beat him to the deck with their rifles. Bruce heard the sickening crack of Leonard’s temple crushed by the stock of one of their weapons and knew his acquaintance was probably dead before he hit the ground.

"I hope we will not have to make an example of any more of you." Salim warned. "You are wealthy infidels…vampires…who have sucked the blood of out this region for centuries. My employer would like you to return some of your wealth immediately. If you refuse, you will be provided with a chance to see whether or not you can take your wealth with you into the afterlife."

The crowd gasped as the severity of the situation sunk in. The men were quickly hustled away from the body then crowded into one of the ballrooms off the main-deck, quickly put under lock and key before they could contemplate an escape. Bruce glanat tat the body of his now dead business colleague and watched in horror as his body was tossed overboard. He memorized the features of the two commandos who had killed Leonard Green, silently promising his friend they would be the first to taste the revenge of the Bat.

***********************************************************************
The next hour brought the female passengers no closer to realizing any resolution of their fate. They were huddled in a small group on the main-deck, cowering under the gaze of the five kidnappers standing around them. Diana was quietly seething behind her scarf and Jilbab. The women were on deck and suffering in the hot sun.

She contemplated verbalizing a request to move to a shaded part of the ship however one of the women to her left was making a signal to her companions. Diana followed the woman’s gaze and spotted an island off the port bow. Given its proximity, it represented their likely destination. Their treatment, or imprisonment as it really constituted, had been difficult so far as the kidnappers had not clearly thought the the logistics of guarding more than 100 women in an open area. Ten minutes after Salim had lectured to them, one of the women raised her hand and requested leave to go to the bathroom. Salim had responded by screaming various sexual epithets over the megaphone however he relented a few moments later after having a very animated conversation over a cellular phone. Other women accustomed to being waited on hand and foot all their lives suddenly demanded breakfast however they were quickly disabused of their rights or privileges when one of the commandos produced a buggy whip and started whipping the backs of their legs as punishment for talking out of turn.

Diana weighed imposing another request on their captors against the punishment that would likely be doled out for requesting relief from the sun and decided to bite her tongue. The air inside the Jilbabs was stifling but it was better than the alternative beating the women would receive if they raised another objection. She scanned the horizon, hoping that a helicopter or other passing ship might spy the passengers distress and send for help. The horizon revealed nothing save for the assault ship from which the pirates had apparently used to board the Windsong the previous evening. Its sleek lines portended speed and twin 30 millimeter machine guns mounted fore and aft, in addition to mid-ship rocket launchers, meant that any rescue would be required to brave withering fire before making it to the cruise ship.

The Windsong finally rounded an outcropping on the island an hour later, dropping anchor in a sheltered bay more than a kilometer wide and almost as long. Unlike the majority of the shallow water inlets dotting the Strait, the water in the bay was dark blue until it reached the rock walls, signifying the depth was sufficient for anchoring ocean-going vessels. Diana glanced overhead as the sun disappeared behind the rock wall above the ship, puzzled as to how the ship was sheltered so early in the day from the hot sun. The Windsong swung off the bow anchor close to the rocks and Dianalizalized that the rock wall gradually extended outwards from the island until it completely covered the width of the ship, albeit 500 feet above their heads. Diana realized that the overhang would shelter large ships from the eyes of any overhead satellites.

‘That’s how the ships were invisible to the satellites,’ she realized.

While the overhang and bay were natural, Diana spotted man-made improvements demonstrating the extent of the pirates operation. A large grotto had been blasted out of the granite next to the bay. The grotto was equipped with a crane capable of off-loading equipment from pirated cargo-ships as well as forklifts and other equipment necessary to move spoils onto other ships.

Diana estimated there were at least 20 more people standing in the grotto, the majority of which were armed with the same machine pistols worn by their assailants. Inal, al, there were at least 50 armed men available to guard the passengers and Diana’s hopes sank as she read thd that even with her powers it would be an impossible task to rescue all of the passengers safely.

The women all turned in unison as the ballroom doors were flung open with a bang. A heavily muscled kidnapper brandishing a machete led Bruce and nine other men to the main-deck. The men were chained together at the waist and accordingly moved as fast as the slowest member of the chain-gang was able to walk. They all shuffled in a loping gait when they walked as theirs wes were similarly shackled. Bruce was second in line behind an aging media baron Diana had seen when boarding the vessel. She couldn’t remember his name but she quickly deduced that all of the men collectively represented the richest passengers on the ship. Bruce recognized her height next to the other women passengers and gave her a quick nod. Diana guessed that he was still confident in their original plan and sublimated her Amazonian instincts to engage their assailants.

The crane in the grotto swung a long boarding platform over to the Windsong and the man Bruce thought of as ‘Machete’ herded them onto the gangway. The ramp pitched downwards to the grotto below and one of the men tripped on his shackles. The rest of the men patiently waited for their colleague to regain his foothold. A whip cracked near him, speeding up his recovery then the slow procession made it to the foot of the ramp.

The grotto was deeper than Bruce had originally thought and the men heard the whirring of an electric motor echoing off the chamber walls. Two headlights cut through the inky blackness a moment later, steadily closing on their position. Bruce saw a third headlight emerge from the gloom and he realized there was more than one vehicle approaching. His insight was proved a moment later when four large golf carts drove into the daylight.

A regal looking Middasteastern man in his mid forties slowly disembarked from the passenger side of the lead golf cart. He carried a regal yet slightly menacing air and briskly moved to their position at the quay.

"Greetings," the man said with a clipped accent. Bruce thought it was likely he’d been schooled in Switzerland given his annunciation of the word.

"My name is Zarqawi Mossoud. My men call me ‘The Sheik.’ Either name is fine. I profoundly apologize for your discomfort however it could not be helped. My associate Salim has already informed you, or demonstrated I understand in one unfortunate case, that if you comply with my requests then you will come to no harm. Comply with my wishes and you and your companions will be set free in 24 hours. Contradict them at your peril. It is your choice, that much I can assure you."
"As you may or may not be aware, I am a member of the Saudi Royal Family. After September 11th, certain members of my family became aware of the fact that I was financing Al-Qaeda operations. Given my governms des desire to be a lackey of your Western governments, my support for that cause was viewed politically incorrect. I was summarily exiled from my home and country. I request your support for a plan which will make my family and your country atone for their error."
The Sheik whirled and walked back to the golf cart. He muttered something in Arabic which Bruce interpreted correctly as a command to unshackle the common chain linking them. One of the commandos quickly complied, producing a key chain from his shirt pocket and removing the chain. They were still kept in leg braces and handcuffs but they were nonetheless grateful to be removed from the chain. There was room for three passengers in each vehicle and they were quickly hustled onto the seats. Bruce considered the possibility of trying to slip off the cart in the darkened tunnel however his thought was fleeting as each passenger was summarily chained to the roll-bar on the top of each vehicle. Hddeddded in earnest appreciation of the thoroughness of the operation, realizing that almost every contingency had been anticipated prior to their arrival.

Bruce concentrated on the name of their kidnapper as the carts started down the tunnel. While he wasn’t familiar with Zarqawi Mossoud by name, he remembered that there were almost 100 sons of the current Saudi King. Given that the oldest was first in line to claim succession, the other 99 sons were left with time on their hands to pursue other interests, including terrorism.

The ride down the tunnel was quick and a welcome relief from the equatorial heat on board the ship. The air grew moist and cool as they traveled down the length of the tunnel and Bruce realized that much of the tunnel was natural, with only occasional dynamite shafts evident in the tunnel walls. ‘Must have been a vent tube for a volcano’ he mused. There were small strobes spaced at regular intervals to mark their progress and he estimated they’d traveled more than 200 meters before reaching the terminus of their journey.

A flood of lights suddenly switched on above their heads, revealing a steel blast door securing the entrance to another chamber. A glaxon horn sounded and the door slowly eased open, pushed by a series of hydraulics located near the hinge. Bruce and his companions stood dumbfounded by the extent of the operation and Mossoud grinned with unapologetic pride.

"Impressive, is it not?" he asked as their restraints keeping them locked to the roll bars were removed. Their handcuffs and leg restraints were also removed and the men winced as they massaged the marks left by the metal. "It can withstand a direct strike of up to a 250 kiloton warhead. Considering one of your smart bombs would have to fly horizontally down the shaft to make a direct strike, this facility is virtually impregnable."

‘The guy has been watching too much James Bond’ Bruce thought wearily, then realized the man had a point. Inside of the blast door, the men walked into an impressive communications and information facility that looked like a duplicate of NORAD’s nuclear response bunker deep inside of Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. There were four rows of computers with a total of twenty consoles, some of which were tuned into various global network news channels including CNN and al-Jazeera.
In front of the computers, a global, digital screen map of the Earth covered the entire wall. It was larger than anything Bruce had built into the Watchtower and included a representation of the solar terminator, laying out the difference between day and night on Earth.

Tempest Island resided in the center of the map. It was almost noon for Singapore time, meaning the residents of Gotham and Metropolis were 12 hours behind. A number of bright red dots glowed near some major ports around the Pacific, including Yokohoma Port near Tokyo, Sydney, Los Angeles, Singapore and Hong Kong.

Bruce still didn’t know Moussoud’s true intentions but suspected the plan involved some kind of greenmail by kidnapping some of the world’s wealthiest industrialists. He wasn’t disappointed in his analysis when Moussoud walked up to the largest console and swept his hand across the map in front of them.

"I have brought you all here to participate in the greatest exploitation of capitalism in its history." Moussoud spat indignantly. "Those five dots represent one of the greatest financial opportunities you men will be presented with in your lifetimes. Each one of them represents a tanker which I have ‘borrowed’ during the last few weeks."

"Tankers aren’t worth a hole to piss in." Elmore Stubing smirked disdainfully to Bruce’s left. Bruce knew Stubing’s background included leveraged buy-outs of smaller transportation and logistics companies to form a world-wide empire which rivaled Federal Express. "I owned two and the insurance premiums and maintenance eat up whatever you can charge. This is just a waste of time." He said with a huff.

Moussoud listened patiently to the older man’s diatribe then walked over and brought his own face eye level with the man. "You didn’t permit a chance to teou wou what is inside the tankers. Does anybody know what LNG stands for?"

The men looked at each other in surprise. For billionaire industrialists, an acronym like LNG was child’s play. Randolph Chesterfield, owner of Tupman Investments, raised his hand like a first-grader and blurted out "Liquified Natural Gas?"

"You are correct my good fellow." Moussoud gently mocked. "Next question, can anybody tell me the explosive properties of 250,000 tons of LNG mixed with magnesium nitrate?"

A chill went down Bruce’s back as he realized Moussoud’s intentions. He continued to play dumb however as he didn’t want undue attention shifted his direction however his mind was racing with the likely uses for the mix. William Bentley, Chairman of Tupont Chemicals, considered the recipe for a moment then verbalized what Bruce had already deduced. "You are building a very large bomb, Mr. Moussoud."

"Five of them actually, Mr. Bentley." Moussoud said with a smile. "And right now they are all positioned a few hours away from five of the largest Western ports on the Pacific. Each one of them will have a yield similar to a tactical nuclear we and and they are all programmed to explode in…" he checked his watch for dric eic effect, "nine hours. Perfect morning viewing for the Metropolis financial markets."

"What do you want from us?" Chesterfield demanded. "You don’t need us to complete this plan…what good are we?"

"What good are you indeed?" Moussoud sneered. "As I stated, I was exiled from my home and country due to my support for the 9-11 mujhadeen. That being said, never in my wildest dreams did I think that the 9-11 mujhadeen would achieve that level of success with their mission. My biggest regret is that I didn’t anticipate the crash of the financial markets which occurred immediately afterwards. I mean to atone for that error with Operation Scimitar. I require a loan from each of you for one billion dollars. As part of that loan, I will offer you a return of 15% on your investment, payable within one business day, as well as providing you with the benefit of letting you keep your heads on top of your necks."

The men gasped at the threat and Malcolm Woodbridge, a trust-fund fop upon which Bruce had stylized much of the Bruce Wayne playboy persona, still didn’t get Moussoud’s intent. "Why do you need our money?"

Moussoud shook his head in exasperation at the man’s stupidity. "You remind me of many of my brothers…unworthy of the family fortune. Ten billion dollars will be used to purchase options on the major financial indexes of the world. The options will bet that within a day the markets will undergo a substantial decline in value. Once the tankers explode and the financial markets go into a panic, the value of my options will probably treble within an hour. I will then unwind the $10Billion for a return of $30Bln, including what I owe you for services rendered."

"As for my share of the money, I think $20Bln will be a nice down payment for establishing my own army in this region of the world. Indonesia’vernvernment fails to remember that it’s the world’s largest Muslim state yet greed and corruption resulting from the Western influence will always be its downfall. I mean to create my own army, establish my own government and create the world’s largest Islamist state along one of the most strategic waterways in the world. If Western governments want access to the Strait, they will have to pay my fees or face the long way around the South China Sea. Even then there will be no promises as I intend to utilize my Navy to extend my shores all the way to Australia. In a short time, my country will be the most powerful nation in the Pacific."

Moussoud motioned for the guards watching over the ten men to herd them into a back office.
"I will give you twenty minutes to consider your options."

The billionaires complied at gunpoint and found themselves crammed into a small office. Bruce studied their faces and realized that the men who had built their companies were responding well under the stress while the trust-fund billionaires were in a state osiblsible panic. Malcom Woodbridge was the first to speak.

"I don’t know about you but I’m going to lend him the billion." He whimpered.

Randolph Chesterfield was the first to explode at the audacity of the suggestion. "You can’t possibly be that stupid. You would be an accessory to genocide and would even profit from the deaths of millions of people. Don’t you realize that once we’ve given him the money then we’ll have lost all of our leverage to negotiate? As soon as you transfer the money to him you’ve signed your own death warrant. He’s a much of a thief as he is a terrorist so negotiate with him… draw him out…do anything but give him all the money. How about we try to give him 25% of what he asks and say we can’t tap that kind of liquidity in such a short time span. That would delay the bombs long enough for someone to start looking for the Windsong and give somebody a chance to effect our rescue."
Nobody spoke for a minute and finally Bruce realized it was time to steer their strategy in a direction which gave them at least a fighting chance. "Randolph, the only problem with your idea is that nobody is going to look for the Windsong for a couple of days. We’re docked at Tempest Island so its not like the ship is somewhere its not supposed to be. It will probably be three days before anybody notices we’re not at our nschescheduled port of call."

The men collectively grunted in agreement at the wisdom of his suggestion however none of them could see a way out of their predicament. "What are we going to do?" one of them asked quietly.

*************************************************************************

After the ten billionaires were herded off the ship, Diana and the remaining passengers were crowded into the ballroom at gunpoint. The doors were locked behind them and she could see that other exit doors were already chained together. Only six guards were left to watch over the remaining 190 passengers while another four were guarding the crew in the kitchen. The passengers spread out around the ballroom tables and made themselves comfortable as best they could. The guards had tasked the crew with preparing meals for the passengers who were now hungrily wolfing down whatever was served. Salim used the bullhorn to inform the passengers that if they remained cooperative then they would provided with enough freedom to go to the bathroom without supervision.

‘That is their first mistake’ Diana thought.

She was about to walk to the bathroom with the intent of procuring an escape route when a hand grabbed her arm.

‘Megan, it’s Cassidy. Are you heading to the bathroom?" a feminine voice asked plaintively behind a blue scarf.

‘How do you know its me?" Diana asked, fearful she’d done something to attract attentio heo herself.

"You’re six inches taller than any woman on this ship…can I come with you?"

Diana mused for a moment then realized it would be unrealistic to reject the woman’s request.

"Of course. Let’s go." Diana responded.

The two of them made their way over to the women’s restroom and removed their headdresses once safely behind the doors. Cassidy’s face was red from the heat and her eyes were red from crying.

‘I’m sorry about Leonard." Diana said quietly.

"He was kind of a shmuck but he didn’t deserve to die like that." Cassidy observed listlessly.

"Nobody deserves to die like that." Diana observed, a scowl darkening her features.

"What do you think they’re going to do to Bruce?" Cassidy asked with a shudder.

"I hope they’ll be just like everybody else in this world and ask him for money." Diana said, the concern still evident on her face.

"I’m sorry that I was flirting with him yesterday…you seemed kind of angry about it." Cassidy noted.

"Thank you but there’s nothing to be sorry about. I was sending him mixed signals and he was doing what he thought I wanted. You did me a favor actually. Until I realized that I was jealous I wasn’t sure that I really desired him all that much. You kicked me off the fence, so to speak."

"Keep him happy if we get out of this in one piece." Cassidy advised. "He’s tall, good-looking, built like a linebacker and has billions in the bank. What else could you ask for in packpackage?"
Despite the superficial view Cassidy took with men, Diana realized she had a point. ‘What else could you ask for?’ she wondered in the mirror.

Bruce waited for one of the other billionaires to respond to either plan: Pay the ransom or sacrifice your life. Bruce didn’t place much stock in Chesterfield’s advice to attempt a negotiation. They had fifteen minutes to individually and collectively decide what they were going to do however there was as yet no concs ons on a plan of action. He studied his surroundings in search of his own contingency plan and finally located an air ventilation shaft wide enough for his frame. Bruce knew that Alfred would have the Batwing on stand-by mode for launch by this point as Standard Operating Procedure was that non-contact on a mission like this meant that he had been taken hostage. Alfred’s response would be to prepare the Batwing and wait for a signal from Bruce’s transponder. The problem was that he was a few hundred meters inside a hollowed out volcano and his transmitter wasn’t strong enough to power through the granite.

He cursed himself for restraining Diana’s initial desire to free them before but then reminded himself that he had no way of knowing Moussad’s plan unless he’d come this far as Bruce Wayne. He quietly tested the grating covering the vent while the rest of ten ben bickered about their plan. The grate was tight, held in place with four screws. He opened the desk in the office and found a letter opener stuffed in the rear of the top drawer. He dropped to the floor and inserted the tip of the blade into one of the screws and pushed to the left, loosening the screw ever so slightly. William Bentley noticed the activity out of the corner of his eye then asked "Wayne, what in the world do you think you’re doing?"

Bruce relaxed his face into the easy air of the playboy, then turned companionably to his fellow passengers and said,

"Just trying to see if there’s another way out of here."

Bentley looked at the vent for a moment as the other men stopped talking then observed, "There’s no way all of us can escape through that vent. You’re the only one young enough to make such an attempt."

Bruce admitted the man’s wisdom in the matter then said, "Would you guys mind covering for me if I try?"

"Where will you go if you get out?" Chesterfield demanded.

"Try to find help somewhere. Get to a boat, a radio, anything." Bruce said. "We’ve got to help those people or millions are going to die."

"Awfully brave of you, Wayne." Bentley observed. "Get going."

************************************************************************

Mossoud opened the office fifteen minutes later and Chesterfield immediately blocked his entry.
"I’ve been appointed by my compatriots here to provide you with what you need, Mr. Mossoud." He tapped a piece of paper in his hand then smiled. "They’ve provided me with enough information to get this little vre ore of yours capitalized so let’s sit down and discuss this matter like civilized people."

"I don’t remember offering to negotiate." Mossoud observed flippantly, then produced a machine pistol from his pocket and quickly dispatched Randolph Chesterfield with two shots to the head. His thugs pulled the body out of the way then Moussoud screamed at the men in the room. "I’ll giou 1ou 10 minutes to come up with the extra billion that his death cost me."The The remaining eight men were stunned as they sat around the room. Each man wondered whether he’d have the courage to refuse Mossoud’s request, knowing that the result would be an instant bullet to the head. They forgot about their escaped colleague for the moment as the threat of imminent death loomed larger on their horizon. It took the full ten minutes for Mossoud to open the door and take a quick headcount before the alarm was sounded.

Bruce was feverishly working his way up a steel ladder which ran the length of the concrete lined ventilation tube to the top of the dormant volcano. Escaping from the office, he’d quickly located the primary ventilation system which had been installed to provide the Monitoring Room with fresh air. Given Mossoud has built his lair in a dormant volcano, there were likely some problems with noxious gasses including sulphur dioxide and monoxide which would have incapacitated his operatio
He
He had just punched his way out of the metal grating covering the top of the tube and emerged into sunlight when the alarm sounded below him. Despite his bare feet, he hurried down the mountaintop, trying to orient his location to the satellite photos he’d inspected just two days before.

A metallic flash caught his eye and he realized that he was running along a path leading to a surface to air missile emplacement. It was probably manned by an armed crew and he immediately altered his path into the rain forest to avoid contact with any of the commandos.
He spied a pool of mud to his left and immediately dove into it, smearing the black volcanic mud over his white shirt and pants to provide better cover in the jungle. Satisfied with his new camouflage, he worked the toggle switch on his transmitter twice, then jogged to the lee side of the island in hopes of finding something which could effect his rescue.

**********************************************************************

Alfred Pennyworth was busily passing the time, polishing various Bat gadgets which shone brilliantly in the tropical sun. He was stationed in a Wayne Aviation airport hangar outside of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, having transferred Batman’s gadgets from Singapore as the Malaysian capital was closer to Tempest Island. A console to his left suddenly sprang to life and the Kevlar shroud encapsulating the Batwing started to automatically retract.

Alfred thought a moment then threw a second suitcase into the backseat of the Batwing before it initiated its automatic take-off program.

"Miss Diana may need this!" he yelled to no one in particular over the roar of the engine, then watched as the Batwing quickly leralerated away from the hangar.

Diana was seated at a table in the Ballroom with Cassidy, quietly munching a chicken salad sandwich wshe she heard the ring of klaxons signaling a prisoner’s escape. ‘Must be Bruce.’ She surmised.

She swallowed the last gulp of the sandwich then made her way to the women’s restroom again, pausing to see if any of the guards were following her. They were on a s of of heightened alert but had not yet altered their guard posts over the ship’s passengers.

Diana selected the corner stall complemented by a small air conditioning duct as her escape route. She sat for a moment, then listened for the rhythm of the klaxons blaring in the distance before she started tearing a larger opening around the metal grate. She hoped that anybody who found the escape tunnel might think it had been pried open with a metal tool and concentrated on making the appearance consistent with a crowbar. The thin steel succumbed easily to her pressure and she quickly tore an opening large enough to squeeze through. The duct wasn’t wide enough for her to crawl through and she tore it to pieces as she crawled through the opening, then punched her way through an adjacent wall. The final punch exposed a passageway filled with pipes necessary to meet the water and septic needs of the ship’s passengers. The passageway was amply wide to walk through and Diana’s eyes squinted, focused on determining the quickest path of escape.

****************************************************************************

Mossoud lined up the eight remaining billionaires at computer consoles.

"Gentlemen" he barked. "I have taken the liberty of providing you with computer access to your accounts. I already know where the money is located however I do not have access to your encrypted account information."

The larger screen behind Mossoud depicting the locations of the tanker bombs suddenly flashed and a 16 number bank account suddenly flashed onto the screen.

"Since there are only eight of you left, I now require a $1.25 Billion loan from each of you to meet my target of $10Bln. Please log into your accounts and initiate the transfer sequence to the above numbered account…starting with," he pointed at Malcolm Woodbridge, "You."

Bruce was comfortably resting on his haunches on the jungle floor when he heard the distinct roar of the Batwing flash overhead. Per its’ programming, the plane roared overhead at full speed in an attempt to bait the enemy into wasting its surface to air missiles. He watched with amusement as the plane roared by again a minute later at Mach 3. He reeled from the accompanying sonic booms as the remaining missiles fuel was soon exhausted.

He keyed his belt transmitter twice then the Batwing settled into a hover mode above him then landed vertically on the beach to his right. Bruce glanced around, looking for some signs of the commandos however there were none to be seen. He readied himself for a 400-meter dash to the plane when he felt a pair of hands pull him into the air.

"Miss me?" Diana asked as she pulled him to her hip in a flying formation to which they’d grown accustomed.

"I’ll say." Bruce replied.

The hatch on the Batwing opened and Diana dropped him in the cockpit. She had barely settled into the co-pilots seats in the rear when he gunned the throttle away from the island towards Singapore.

"We aren’t going after the bad guys?" she asked with surprise into the intercom.

"Change of plan." He responded.

Diana rummaged through the two suitcases under her feet and laughed over the microphone. Bruce couldn’t see into the backseat however as well as he knew Alfred he knew there would be something important in the suitcase.

"Let me guess. Batsuit, WonWomaWoman costume, black wig and a ham sandwich?"

"How did you know?"

"Educated guess." He responded. "Have you eaten anything? I’m starving."

"They fed us after you were taken away. What’s going on?"

"Let me brief you with the rest of the League. We don’t have much time."

Mossoud watched with delight an hour later as the last of the $10 Billion trickled into his account. The eight men sat glumly at their computer screens, knowing that they were alive but unhappy at the price at which their lives came.

"Relax gentlemen. Be of good cheer." Mossoud laughed maniacally wal walked to his computer console and typed in an identification code which initiated a pre-set buying program across the globe. Various dummy corporations around the globe started executing orders to purchase the options which would allow him to start his own private army in a few hours.
"Gentlemen, can I buy you a drink in celebration? You’re all going to be $175 Million Dollars richer in a short period."

An hour later, Mossoud was enjoying his second glass of champagne when all five of the red lights on the global map disappeared within seconds of each other.

Images of the Justice League suddenly filled the television monitors in the Monitor Room. Mossoud watched in disbelief as a red blur (it must have been The Flash he surmised) tore through the bridge area of one of his bomb-ships, incapacitating the crew and rendering the bomb inert before it could be exploded in the Port of Los Angeles.

Mossoud prepared to shout the necessary orders to his underlings when the power suddenly went out, rendering the room in inky blackness. An emergency generator switched on for a second then Mossoud heard a crash in the distance. The room plunged into darkness a second time from which there was no relief.

He heard some muffled shouts in the distance reflecting panic and confusion. The noises grew closer by the second. Sporadic gunfire rang out in the tunnel but bur bursts went silent as quickly as they started. Mossoud debated trying to close the huge blast door to keep out the invading army but he stopped himself short. ‘Its powered by hydraulics…in turn powered by the generators already off-line.’

Left with fewer alternatives by the second, he started working his way along the walls of the Monitor Room when he heard a metallic whisper fly over his head. Sparks erupted from where a Batarang imbedded itself into the aluminum sidewall and he dove to the floor, trying to escape whatever it was that was stalking him.

"You’ve run out of options, Mossoud," a deep voice intoned behind him. "It’s over."

"It’s over when I say it’s over." Mossoud replied with a laugh which reminded Batman eerily of the Joker. Mossoud produced a black transmitter from his breast pocket and armed it.
Batman froze ten feet away in the darkness as the light on the transmitter blinked yellow for a few seconds then changed to green. He heard the rumble of explosions start behind him and he realized that Mossoud had triggered a self-destruct. He looked around the room for Mossoud but he was nowhere to be found. He retreated to his point of entry in the ventilation shaft when Diana’s voice pierced through the inky blackness, "Bruce…where are you?"

"Here." He yelled then felt himself propelled through the air a second later as she picked him up.

Diana didn’t have the benefit of his night vision goggles however and she looked about furtively, trying to determine an escape path. Batman shouted directions as they flew to the opening in the ventilation shaft. He shoved Diana through the entrance as the explosions continued working their way down the tunnel shaft towards the Monitor Room. He tore off his night goggles as the flashes from the blasts were overwhelming his senses then hurried after her through the ventilation duct. Diana was waiting for him at the base of the vertical shaft leading to the surface. She grabbed his waist and flew them to the top, flames licking at their heels as she accelerated through the grating covering the opening.

They set down 10 meters from the shaft, watching it belch black smoke and fire as the last of Mossoud’s bombs detonated.

"I didn’t think Mossoud would have a self-destruct built into this lair. Why did he blow himself up?" Diana asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"An Islamist believes dying in battle guarantees a path to the Elysian Fields, or at least what a Muslim thinks of as the Elysian Fields." Batman responded. "Thanks for the rescue."

Diana lifted a hand to his cheek, grazing the back of her knuckles over the stubble on his jaw. "Happy to help. Where are Bruce Wayne’s friends?"

"I got them over the golf carts when you cut the power. They should be on the ship…did you get the commandos on the ship?"

"Of course. Mossoud was the last of his team left standing."

"Bruce Wayne and Megan Treacy had better make an appearance on the ship pretty soon or people are going to start talking." Batman observed.

They walked a hundred meters to a clearing where the Batwing was waiting. The two of them quickly changed into the clothes they’d been wearing a few hours earlier when they had effected their escape. Diana’s nose wrinkled at the smell of his mud caked clothes.

"You really need a bath." She laughed.

Bruce threw their Batman and Wonder Woman uniforms into the front seat of the Batwing then he punched the necessary commands into the automatic pilot for the plane to return to its launch point outside of Kuala Lumpur. Alfred had already started packing up the rest of the equipment and would return to Gotham as soon as the Batwing was secured on the transport.

They watched the Batwing roar away to the north towards K.L. then they set about locating a path to the water. There was a well-utilized path which worked its way down to the protected bay below them. They could see the Windsong at anchor and they quickly set off on the walk to the ocean. The narrowness of the path forced them to walk in single file. Diana followed Bruce down the path given his familiarity with the topography of the island. They had walked for at least a half an hour before
Diana broke the silence.

"You’re awfully quiet."

"I’ve got a lot on my mind."

"Care to talk about it?" she asked, puzzled by the distracted tone of his voice.

"This new level of familiarity between us…relationship… whatever you want to call it…"

"Go on." She urged.

"It’s dangerous for Batman and Wonder Woman in too many ways." Bruce said darkly.
Diana’s heart skipped a beat in response to his statement. She paused a second to catch her breath before she continued.

"How so?" she asked.

"Back in Mossoud’s lair you called out Bruce when you wanted to find me." He observed.
Diana froze in her tracks. She replayed the events of the explosions and her frantic search for him in the darkness.

"Hera help me… you’re right. I did say Bruce, didn’t I?"

"Yes…you did. I viewed Shayera’s actions in Las Vegas to be suspect when she pulled John out of that fight but now see that it was an emotional response to the situation at the time. Losing two members of the team at that point seemed an insurmountable loss, especially when one of them could still fight. Given our depleted ranks at the moment, a similar error in judgment on either of our hands could lead to disaster."

"Do you really think a formal relationship between us is going to affect whether we look out for each other a little closer than we do our other teammates?" she asked dubiously.

"Your point?" he asked, a look of confusion evident on his face.

"My point is that you have always jeopardized your life when it comes to dealing with me, relationship or not. When we first met, I always wondered why you were throwing yourself in front of busses for me, crashing the Batwing to buy me some time. I always thought it was very sweet in a sexist kind of way…the man trying to throw his cloak over the puddle of water for his damsel in distress, as it were. Now I know its because you love me."

"I never have said that!" Bruce stammered.

Diana rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Whatever is said…or unsaid, between us, that is one thing I can be sure of."
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Tempest Island