CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
( idiot's gamble )
❛ left, right, goodnight ❜
ATHENA WAS ON HER BELLY, CRAWLING INSIDE the air vents, cursing the stars at the overwhelming heat and thick air she was inhaling. Trust Boss to hand out the only mission involving shifting through tight spaces to the claustrophobic girl. Grade A teamwork there, Bruce.
Sliding one hand in front of the other and pulling herself along, beads of her sweat causing friction between her skin and the metal of the vent, Athena was acutely aware of the boy tailing behind her, silent and barely breathing.
Well, of course he was breathing. But over the slick noise of her shimming down the small area and the suction of her palms on the metal, he really could've been dead and she wouldn't have even noticed. Damian, unlike her, apparently never got hot. Never knew what it was like to break a sweat and have his chest feel leaden. Never gotten so outrageously uncomfortable in a small cramped space where the walls were just that few inches too close, where they looked like at any moment to collapse around him, that the only way his body could react was to coat itself in sweat in an attempt to cool itself down only to realise that there wasn't even the faintest bit of a breeze coming in through the pipes so it had to just stay wet and soggy and saturated, sending his mind into a state of constant paranoia that the walls were shrinking. No. Apparently Damian was far too advanced for that.
Athena didn't like this kid already and it had only been an hour. But it wasn't the type of dislike she had for Jason. For Jason, it was a raw unadulterated loathing. The one that sets her skin on fire every time she looks at him. One that makes her palms sweat. Well, at least that's how she should feel about him. But for Damian... It was more of the dislike you get for a younger sibling that's favourited heavily by the parents. The ones you're annoyed at consistently because they try to one up you in every tiny aspect of your life but get away with everything. They could quite literally burn a city to ashes and daddy dearest wouldn't blink an eyelid. Damian was that kind of dislike.
"Hey kid," Athena said, trying to disguise the panting lacing her speech as she came to a stop above an air vent. Her heart was racing and she knew the sweat dripping down her forehead wasn't just there because of the heat. She didn't turn to face him as she spoke—like hell was she going to give this kid any sort of hint that she hated tight spaces. Instead, she peered through the slits of the vent. Athena was immediately greeted by what she initially thought was some sort of animal enclosure judging by the wired fence circling an arena of dirt and gravel. For lion? Tiger? Some fighter dog? She wasn't sure. But as two figures began to creep into view, she knew she was entirely wrong. Especially when one lunged at the other, arms swinging and collided their fist against their opponents jaw.
No. This most definitely wasn't an animal cage.
"Don't call me 'kid,'" Damian remarked, halting only inches away from the back of her feet and snapping her attention away from the fight below. He must've somehow seen the surprise on her face—which would've been incredibly difficult due to only source of lighting available being the white leaking in through the tiny gaps in the metal vents
and the occasional blue flash from the earpiece in her ear, not to mention she was literally facing away from him—because he then said, "what is it? What's wrong?"
"I'm not entirely sure..." Athena trailed, sliding her eyes back to the people below. At first she assumed both the figures were male by their slim figures and lean bodies. She couldn't see their faces from her angle above them. Soon she managed to decipher that one of the figures was female. It wasn't in the way her hair slapped against her cheek as she tried to dodge an incoming kick—any man could have long hair. Nor was it the slight bump of her chest as she cracked her head against the cement through the force of the blow; she was too small, looking too malnourished to even have the definitive curves of a woman. It was her screams as the opposing figure dug their foot into her rib cage that gave her away. "I think... I think this is like a fighting rink of some sorts."
"Cool," Damian smiled, or what she assumed would've been a smile when she looked back at him. If it had been Jason, she would've slammed the heel of her boot into his nose with a donkey kick.
Athena ignored Damian's comment. "I thought that idiot said there'd be no one here?"
"I may not be there but I can still hear you, dumbass," came Jason's voice crackling into the small earpiece clinging around her ear.
"And what a pity that is," Athena mumbled.
"Shut up. And I didn't say there would be no one. I said it was unlikely that there would be other people around considering it was—if you hadn't noticed—one-thirty in the fucking morning."
"Well maybe next time, before you pull the 'I'm on look out duty', actually do some 'looking out' and research the place. We may be in over our heads."
"Backing out, are you, Athena? Who knew you to be such a coward."
"Coming from the one who's currently sitting on a building 100 metres away. Yeah, and I'm the coward."
"You know Bruce told me I couldn't take part. That's not my fault."
"Ah, but maybe if you didn't suck shit at every mission you went on then you'd be here with us. Did that ever cross your mind?"
"Well, maybe if you hadn't been so pathetic last time, Bruce wouldn't have made me sit up here to keep an eye on you so that you behave."
It surprised Athena how grateful she was when Damian decided to cut in; she wasn't quite sure how'd she'd reply to that. "Will you two shut up? If I knew that I would have been stuck with a bunch of imbeciles to do this mission with, I would've asked father to do it alone."
"I wouldn't have said no to that. You would've died and done us all a favour." Jason stated.
Athena snapped. "Jason, stop being an asshole." She may not have liked Damian very much but it certainly didn't amount to whatever feelings she had towards Jason.
It had been 3 weeks. 3 weeks since Scarecrow and she was still trying to piece together everything that had happened since. It never made any sense. Bruce letting her off almost unscathed, Jason refusing to talk to her, Dick telling her that Crane had been lost for good. She had failed.
But the worst of it was Jason. It wasn't just him not talking to her, wasn't him avoiding her at every given opportunity. It was the bruises that inked his skin like black snow.
She'd seen him in passing the night after, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, probably a broken tooth mixed in there somewhere. A sickly purple mark covering his left eye down to the middle of his cheek. Another one on his jaw. It didn't take her long to realise what had happened. She had been in Bruce's office too, sitting at a chair in front of his desk as her paced around her, rage curdling in every step. But it was a blur to her. The failure of the mission still tore her apart and even when Bruce's first had slammed into her jaw, she was numb. The faint banging on the wood and the roaring of Jason standing outside the door paled in comparison to the despair she had dwelling in her gut.
She vaguely remembered being taken out the room and back to her chambers. Couldn't recall who brought her back there but remembered their gentle touch on her lower back as they lead her up the stairs and their sorrowful smile as they closed the door behind her. It was only when she had finally regained her composure hours later, when she had stepped out of her room after the rumbling in her stomach became unbearable, had she seen him in passing back to his room. Bleeding. His skin torn and bruised. She had seen him coming up the stairs; he had always refused to walk with his head down, never showing shame or regret—a trait which Athena used to despise but now...
He had made it to his door before he'd caught her eye. She'd been standing there and he'd looked straight past her, eyes glossed over in an emotion she couldn't read. They had only stayed like that for a few seconds but time had stopped for her. Jason's lower lip had been torn open, there was a cut in his right eye brow that bled red down his cheek. She was frozen. He just looked at her. Something twisted in her gut and then she was angry. And hurt. And guilty. And sad. And it had only taken her moment to realise what had happened; Jason had taken all of Bruce's fury. He had taken it on her behalf and she still couldn't understand why.
Until this mission—until only 3 hours ago, Jason had refused to talk to her. She'd seen him go in and out of his room countless times in the last few weeks and every time he saw her, he'd look her dead in the eye and turn away. She'd waited outside his room some nights, or waited in her room until she heard him leave so she could go talk to him. But he never even looked at her. After a week of waiting and getting nowhere, she began to get restless. She had formulated a speech she would let loose on him the next she saw him, whether he looked at her or not, she was going to finally get answers. And she would yell at him. How dare he ignore her after everything they went through. Did he forget? It takes two to fuck up.
So, the following night, she had sat on the edge of her bed waiting, reciting the words she would say over and over and over, until they were carved into her brain like engravings on stone. Only when the groaning of his door rang her ears and his footsteps, however light they were, flooded the empty halls, did she finally make a move. She was at the door in an instant, hand on knob, wicked determination fluttering like glass butterflies in her stomach. She was finally going to confront him.
His footsteps grew louder as he closed the distance between them. She would do it. She was going to finally do it. Find the answers. Find why he did it for her. Why he risked everything for her. Why he took the beating, why he wouldn't talk to her, why she felt like she was dying these last few weeks because he refused to talk to her. Why she hated the way he avoided looking at her, why her heart dropped every time she saw the scar forming on his eyebrow. Why she would stare at his empty seat at the table when Alfred placed his plate in front of it. Why she felt sick every time she passed his room.
Why.
She had to know why.
He was almost outside her door now. His strides and pace now completely memorised. She was going to do it. She had to do it. 2 more steps and he'd be right outside her door. 2 more steps and she'd finally get the answers she needed. He owed it to her.
So why? Why couldn't her god damn body move?
The 2 steps turned into 3. 4. 5. He had passed her door, continuing down the hall unbeknownst to what he had yet again avoided.
No. He didn't avoid it; she couldn't bring herself to do it. Her hand dropped from the handle and she slid down the door, spine against the wood and her head back.
Pathetic. Utterly pathetic.
"Crawford. I'm going down. Jason's sent the location of Bane's office. Meet me at the checkout point in 30 minutes. Don't be late." Damian said over the ear piece. Athena frowned and twisted her head back at him. He was gone. It didn't come as a surprise to her, really. She couldn't blame him either; even she would've left if she were ever in his position. Working with someone who is obviously focused on other things is both frustrating and a liability. Besides, with his swiftness and agility, he could've disappeared a lot longer ago and she still would've been oblivious.
"30 minutes, Damian," she repeated.
Athena had Bruce's words in her ear, whispering at her as she trained her eyes on the commotion below. It looked like the girl had won, judging by the way her opponent was face first on the floor and another presence was in the ring standing next to her, gripping the girl's wrist and raising it in the air. Besides Bruce's voice was Jason's and his strict instructions that this was a covert mission and she was forbidden on getting too close. But with Damian now gone, she couldn't help herself from wanting to get down in the action, to see it right in front of her. She'd deal with the consequences later.
But there was a matter of how she would get down there without being noticed and then make it to the rendezvous point. She only had 30 minutes. She could continue to crawl around the air vent until she found an escape route or even kick out one of the planks but that would cause a commotion she couldn't afford.
After weighing up her options, she opted for leaving and start to make her way to the rendezvous point. As much as she wished to explore, she doubted the sweat on her palms and —not to mention that she could barely stand another second cramped inside this air vent. And besides, she reeked now. A shower and a solid 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep was a luxury she was surprisingly over moon for.
Scrambling her way through the vents, a few more turns and Jason in her ear, babbling the directions and something about how bias Bruce was towards his alleged son, Athena found herself in front of the outside grate. Carefully, she plucked the slitted vent cover off the hinges, tilting and then sliding it back towards her. Swiftly and with ease, she slid herself through the gap and let herself fall the cement floor, immediately sucking in a breath of fresh air and thanking the gods she was back on solid ground. Scanning the area around her, she deciphered two things: the first; she was on the side of the building where the corner a few metres in front of her curved around into the front of the shed. The second; the rendezvous spot was behind her and up the side building where Jason lay awaiting, cleaning the underside of his finger nails with his blades. Athena took one last breath, turned on her toes and started a sprint towards the building.
"Load the truck!"
Athena slowed her steps and whipped her head around in instinct, pressing her body flat against the grey brick wall to her side. There wasn't anyone near her—the voices came from around the corner.
She shouldn't pry; she really has to get going. She's got to find Jason. And Damian. He'll be there shortly too. But then again... she did still have a few more minutes to spare. It wouldn't hurt having a look. It's a fighting rink. What on earth would they be throwing into a truck?
Continuing to press her back against the brick surface, she shuffled along until she reached the corner, peaking out just pass it to find out what the commotion was. The first thing she noticed was the truck. Doors thrown open, small steps and windows on the i
But what sunk her stomach were the lines of people, eyes hollow and scars peppering their skins. Girls, boys, young, old — they were all there, walking in lines held together by rusted chains. Their ankles and wrists turned red from the cuffs digging into their flesh and their steps wobbled, limping in areas where their bones were too physically weak to hold them. But they carried each other. The weight of the chains pulling them along, one by one. Like zombies. Shoulders sagging, heads down, feet dragging. They didn't think, they just moved. There was no room for weakness.
It was obvious they had to have fought in the arena too. From their slim frames from malnutrition and the bruises, cuts and abrasions littering their bodies... but, as they closed in on the truck and the men in all black began to yell at them to quicken the pace, Athena was grateful for her hand on the wall. The stability it gave her.
There was no doubt about it. Not as the man kicked one of the kids behind the knees and she crumbled to floor, the chain on her wrists and ankles colliding with the ground in a sickening crunch. Not as a bray laugh escaped the man who kicked the girl over. Followed by another from his colleague...
This was a joke. Some kind of twisted, sick joke for their own amusement. These were people. Innocent people being treated like wild animals. Captive. Imprisoned. Punished.
There was no mistaking it.
Slaves.
They were slaves.
The girl in the floor muttered something under her breath and Athena couldn't intake any as she braced for the man's reaction.
"Slaves don't need respect." He said and spat into the girl's cheek. She didn't raise her hand to wipe it off but used them to push her off the ground, onto her feet. And then... kept walking. Until the line of people she was in had found their seat in the truck and the doors behind them were slammed shut.
Slaves. These kids. These people are slaves.
Bane Corps wasn't just any organisation, it was a slave trade.
Athena's breath had died almost instantaneously, like something had reached down her throat, grabbed hold of her tongue and strangled it. She could barely breathe, placing a hand on the brick wall in an attempt to calm her down, hoping its coolness and stability would steady the raging thud of her chest. But truthfully, it was to stabilise her as the world began to tip.
Salves.
"Athena, you're out in the open," Damian said, appearing behind her as silent and fluid as water. He would've startled her if her mind wasn't so clouded. Athena slowly panned her head to him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He must have came out of the same vent she did but that didn't matter to her right now. "Let's get going. We have to meet Todd."
"They're slaves?" She asked quietly, the word tasting bitter on her tongue as she finally admitted out loud. "They're slaves. They're selling them. This... this is a slave trade. Bane Corps is a slave trade."
Damian was already walking in her opposite direction, following the steps they had first taken when they had dispatched from the rooftop where Jason currently sat. "Yeah, so what? What's the big deal? Jason and I both knew about it."
"Jason knew?" Athena frowned. "Bruce never mentioned it."
"Probably because he knew you wouldn't be able to handle it." Damian halted as they reached the brick building of the rendezvous point where metal stairs cases zigzagged the brick facing. Under his breath, Damian said, "which, evidently, he was right about."
Her words were jammed in her throat as she followed behind Damian, vaguely recognising his voice in the headset as he called out to Jason to come down the stairs. She hadn't heard the clanking of Jason's footsteps down the metal stairs until his face was in front of hers, his mouth moving but no sound.
"—thena. Athena!" One of his hands was on her shoulder, shaking her back into reality. She blinked a few times, looked into his eyes, down to his hand on her shoulder, finding it oddly calming and warm against her skin, before remembering that is was Jason's hand on her and she whacked it away.
"I'm fine. Let's go." She said as she walked past both of them, not giving them an opportunity to analyse the disgusted twist of her mouth or the rage so raw and vivid that she couldn't conceal on her features.
She didn't speak for the rest of the walk home, too busy plotting her reign of terror for later that night.
authors note
wanna know something funny. promised myself id have this book completed by the new year lmao look how realistic that's sounding. anyways. enjoy. took my sweet time. love u. next chapter is a fan service just a heads up x (i also didnt read thro this so if it doesn't make any sense, smd you'll survive) kisses xxx