They reached the edge of the old platform. Through a gap in crumbling tile, James could see the space beyond. Floodlights illuminated the abandoned station.
The relay device sat where the tracks used to run, pulsing with the same rhythmic blue glow he'd seen in the first warehouse, except larger. Far larger. This wasn't a power cell. This was the actual hub feeding the entire ten-city network.
Guards moved between makeshift barricades. Crates of weapons stacked along the walls, ready for tomorrow's distribution that would now never happen.
"On my signal," Batman murmured.
James nodded. Three seconds passed.
"Go."
Batman moved first, dropping from an overhead maintenance grate directly onto two outer guards. They went down before they could shout. James came from the opposite side, vaulting over a collapsed section of railing and closing on the next patrol group in under two seconds.
Thud!
His first strike caught a guard across the jaw, enhanced strength turning the blow into something that lifted the man off his feet. The second guard spun, weapon rising.
Fwoosh!
An energy bolt seared past James's shoulder, close enough that he felt the heat through his suit. He closed the distance before the man could fire again, crushing the weapon's barrel in one hand and driving an elbow into his chest.
Alarms began blaring through the station.
"They know we're here," AEGIS reported, unnecessarily.
James moved deeper into the formation. Guards converged from multiple directions, but something about their behavior caught his attention immediately. They weren't shooting at him. Not directly. Energy blasts arced wide, deliberately wide, forcing him into specific corridors of movement rather than aiming center mass.
He dodged left, expecting pursuit fire. Instead, a net of crackling blue energy shot from a launcher mounted near the inner ring, designed to entangle rather than kill.
James twisted out of its path at the last second, enhanced reflexes saving him by inches.
'That's not standard Intergang procedure,' he thought. 'They're trying to capture me. Not kill.'
He glanced across the platform. Batman was engaged with three guards near the western barricade, fighting with brutal efficiency, taking hits that were aimed to wound or kill. Conventional bullets. Real lethal intent directed at the Dark Knight.
But every weapon pointed at James fired wide, or fired non-lethal ordnance. Stun rounds. Entanglement nets. A canister that hissed open nearby, releasing some kind of vapor that AEGIS immediately flagged.
"Warning. Airborne compound detected. Composition unknown. Recommend avoiding inhalation."
James held his breath and moved through the cloud rather than around it, using his enhanced speed to clear the area before the gas could matter.
The pattern kept repeating. Wave after wave of guards, all directing restraint weapons specifically at him while engaging Batman with lethal force.
James's enhanced intellect processed the discrepancy at speed, running through every possibility. Standard mercenary doctrine didn't differentiate targets this way unless given explicit orders. Someone wanted him taken alive. Someone had specifically briefed this entire security detail to prioritize his capture over his death.
That was new. That was strange.
He fought through three more guards, using grappling techniques to disable rather than kill, mirroring the restraint being shown toward him with his own restraint toward them. No reason to escalate lethality when they clearly weren't trying to kill him.
A heavier set of footsteps approached from the inner ring. James turned to see a broad-shouldered man in tactical gear, carrying a weapon noticeably larger than the others, walking with the calm confidence of someone who expected to win.
Viktor Dragunov.
"Sovereign," Viktor said, voice carrying clearly over the chaos. "You have caused my employer significant inconvenience."
"Funny. I was about to say the same about your weapons trade."
Viktor raised his weapon. Not aimed center mass. Aimed at James's legs.
Fwoosh!
James dodged the blast, rolling behind a support pillar as the pillar's edge vaporized from the near miss.
"You're trying to take me alive," James called out, genuinely curious now. "Why?"
"Orders," Viktor replied simply. "Someone of importance wishes to study you. Capture preferred. Death acceptable if capture proves... difficult."
That answer told James almost nothing and everything at once. Someone above Mannheim's pay grade had taken specific interest in him. Not in Batman. Not in disrupting the operation generally. Him specifically.
His mind raced through the implications while his body kept moving, dodging another restraint weapon, closing distance on Viktor through a series of short sprints between cover.
'Study me. Why would anyone above street level care about studying me specifically? Unless...'
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