Countdown

by Unknown Author

  Stealing tricks from Aladdin, are we? Mary thought. I’m not impressed.

  The genie seized Mary from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. His tight embrace would have crushed any ordinary girl. He chuckled lecherously in her ear, his spicy breath smelling of sandalwood and cinnamon.

  “Luferac!” Zatanna reminded the djinn. “T’nod truh reh! ”

  Mary snickered at the other woman’s restraint. “Treating me with kid gloves? Big mistake, Zee.” She slammed the back of her head into the genie’s face. Cursing in ancient Arabic, he loosened his grip long enough for Mary to grab on to his wrists with both hands and yank them apart. Whirling around, she tore into the djinn without mercy. Mystic energy crackled around her as she ripped the genie into fragmented wisps of smoke; it felt like tearing apart a wad of flimsy cotton candy. The genie’s agonized scream echoed throughout the library. “I’m playing for keeps!”

  “Ali!” Zatanna gasped. The empty lamp dropped onto the floor.

  Mary turned on Zatanna. “You really had me fooled, Zee! I thought we were friends. Why even bring me here, huh? To steal the power Black Adam gave me?” Her voice rose in anger. “To put me into one of your trophy cases?”

  She tackled Zatanna head-on, slamming Zee into the bookcase behind her. The sturdy shelves wobbled precariously, and an avalanche of weighty tomes crashed down on Zatanna, knocking her to the floor. Half-buried beneath her own library, the dazed magician struggled to climb out from beneath the disorderly heap of books. “Mary ... please,” she whispered groggily. “You have to stop this....”

  “Don’t worry, Zee,” Mary answered. Her boots levitated above the carpet as she gazed down at the battered sorceress. “It’ll be over before you know it!” Then nothing would come between her and all the power Zatanna had selfishly hoarded away. It’s all so obvious now, Mary realized. She never actually intended to teach me anything. She wanted to keep all this magic to herself. Mary’s eyes literally glowed with malice. She couldn’t stand that I was becoming more powerful than her....

  Mary decided to give Zatanna a taste of what she envied. Tapping into her anger, she flung a magical thunderbolt at her so-called mentor. The jolt wouldn’t kill Zee, but it might make her wish that it had. In any event, she would be in no shape to stop Mary from sampling the rest of the library’s many occult treasures.

  But, to Mary’s surprise, Zatanna wasn’t quite down for the count yet. Throwing up her hands to shield herself, she spat out a hasty incantation.

  “Yram, kool ta eht rorrim!’’

  As though possessed of a mind of its own, the gilt-framed

  mirror dived to its mistress’s defense, sliding between Mary and her foe. The unleashed lightning bolt struck the silvered glass—and bounced back at Mary herself. Thunder boomed inside the trashed library as lightning crashed against the startled heroine, changing her back into ordinary Mary Batson!

  Wha—?

  The unexpected transformation disoriented Mary. Her murderous rage vanished with her powers. The impact of the reflected thunderbolt catapulted her backward toward the picture window.

  Zatanna took immediate advantage of the situation. “Swodniw nepo! ”

  Glass panes swung open obediently, and Mary went hurtling through the cold air outside the mansion. Zatanna must have given the lightning a little extra oomph, since Mary ' went sailing over the spiked fence surrounding the estate, finally crashing to earth in the grassy clearing beyond. She hit the ground hard.

  Groaning, she climbed to her feet. No longer invulnerable, she felt sore all over. Her plain old jacket and jeans failed to keep out the chill of the evening. Mary shook her head in confusion, trying to figure out just how things had gone so wrong so fast. She stared in dismay at her fists. What was I doing?

  Anxious to apologize, she ran up to the wrought iron gate of Shadowcrest. No surprise, it refused to open for her. “Zatanna, please!” she called out, hoping the other woman could hear her. “Let me explain!”

  “Mary Batson.” To her surprise, the iron bars of the gate twisted themselves into a rough approximation of a mouth. A rusty voice issued from the gate. “For violation of basic etiquette and decorum, and for acting in a generally nasty, evil manner, you are hereby banished from Shadowcrest henceforth.” A heavy layer of fog billowed up from the ground, concealing the mansion entirely. “Do not bother to attempt to find this place, as it shall remain hidden from you forevermore.”

  The spreading fog swallowed up the gates as well as Zatanna’s lavish estate, which vanished into the mists like Brigadoon. Mary ran forward into the clammy dampness of the fog. “Wait!” she cried out desperately. “1 didn’t know what I was doing. This power... it’s too much for me!” She reached out for the gate, but her groping fingers encountered nothing but empty mist, which quickly wafted away, taking Shadowcrest with it. Mary found herself alone in the shadowy woods, seemingly miles away from the nearest habitation. An owl hooted in the skeletal tree branches overheard.

  “Please, Zatanna! I need your help! Just give me a second chance ... please!”

  The owl hooted in response.

  23 AND GODNTING.

  METROPOLIS.

  “Wait a sec,” Holly protested. “I thought this was supposed to be some sort of self-esteem workshop.”

  “Yes,” a dark-haired staff worker assured her as she fastened a polished bronze breastplate over Holly’s chest. A second attendant slid a steel bracelet onto the confused fugitive’s forearm. “We’re simply applying your ceremonial garb.”

  Holly glanced down at herself. A skirt of studded leather straps hung below the molded bronze cuirass. Metal greaves protected her lower legs. Steel-toed leather boots encased her feet. “Seriously, you do know this is battle armor, right?”

  “Nonsense,” the brunette said. She held out a bronze headpiece bearing the sculpted visage of a snarling panther. “Now, let’s get you into your Purification Helmet.” Holly eyed the feline totem molded upon the helmet. A nod to her short-lived stint as a substitute Catwoman, or just a coincidence? She was already uneasy about the fact that Harley Quinn knew all about Holly’s dubious past; heck, she had nearly fled the shelter after Harley had dropped that bombshell on her in the spa, but the Joker’s supposedly reformed former squeeze had insisted that Holly’s secret was safe among her Athenian “sisters.” Every woman at the shelter, Harley had argued, was running from something, but this place was all about second chances. In the end, Holly had decided to hang around a little longer, mostly because she had nowhere else to go.

  Now she was starting to have second thoughts. What sort of self-help exercise requires body armor?

  The dressers clamped the heavy helmet over Holly’s head and checked the fastenings on her “ceremonial garb” one more time. They led her out of the private dressing room into a colonnaded hallway, where she found several similarly armored women gathered outside a pair of towering wooden doors. Judging from their body language and what Holly could see of their faces, the other women looked just as baffled as she was. Herded together, they looked like refugees from a Xena convention.

  “What in the world ... ?”

  Holly joined the other women. The metal armor jangled every time one of them moved. Holly recognized one of the armored girls as Tricia, another newcomer to the shelter. She gripped a nasty-looking forked weapon.

  “Um,” Holly said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re holding a trident?”

  Tricia appeared puzzled by that as well. She stared nervously at the weapon. “Y-yeah.”

  “Okay, just seeing if you knew that.” Holly guessed that the trident hadn’t been Trish’s idea. The African-American teenage runaway acted as though she had never held anything like it before. Holly noticed that some of the other girls were armed with maces, flails, whips, nets, and swords.

  Did Hawkman have a yard sale or something?

  A trumpet sounded somewhere beyond the ponderous oaken doors, which swung open to admit the armored women. Holly hesitate
d upon the threshold, getting a bad feeling about this. She had never explored this part of the shelter, so she had no idea what lay ahead. Athena’s subordinates prodded the apprehensive girls forward. “Where have I seen this before?” Holly murmured aloud. “Was it in a movie? I’m pretty sure it was in a movie....”

  Sure enough, the doorway led to an impressive recreation of an ancient Roman coliseum, complete with a sawdust floor and high stone walls. A domed sunroof offered a tantalizing view of a clear blue sky. The heavy doors slammed shut behind Holly and the others, and she heard a massive bolt being slid into place on the other side of the doors. Visions of Russell Crowe fighting for his life flashed through her mind.

  “Oh yeah. I hated that movie.”

  A self-esteem workshop, my ass!

  “My glorious sisters!” a booming voice addressed them. “Welcome to your future!”

  Holly looked up to see Athena herself presiding over the occasion from a balcony overlooking the floor of the arena. An honor guard of spear-wielding Amazons flanked Athena. A velvet banner bearing the image of a Gorgon’s bleeding head hung below the balcony. Writhing serpents were embroidered along the fringes of the bunting. During her stay at the shelter, Holly had learned that these symbols had long been associated with the mythological Athena, who was the goddess of warfare as well as wisdom. According to the legends, it was Athena who had taught Perseus how to slay Medusa. Holly still hadn’t decided if the woman above was the actual goddess or just a charismatic namesake like Maxie Zeus, a deranged Gotham ganglord who claimed to be the genuine King of the Gods. Selina had always said Maxie was a real loser. Wonder what she’d think of this Athena?

  Certainly, the esteemed founder of the women’s shelter looked more like a goddess than ever. A goatskin breastplate, known as the Aegis, was draped over her spotless silk robes. All eyes turned toward her regal figure. Her exotically accented voice rang out over the arena.

  “Each of you has endured hardships. You have been overlooked, forgotten, trampled upon. Today, you will free yourselves from your pasts, eradicate your insecurities, and purify your souls. Unleash your fury, my sisters, and become warriors!”

  Holly couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you kidding me?” Athena didn’t seriously expect them to engage in some sort of gladiatorial bloodbath, did she? “These are runaway girls, not Spartans!”

  Her protests fell on deaf ears. Belying her words, Tri-cia suddenly turned on Holly. A ferocious war ciy escaped the girl’s lips as she lunged at Holly with the trident. Hours of training in hand-to-hand combat came to Holly’s rescue as she deftly evaded the lethal thrust. Momentum carried Tricia past her and Holly stuck out her leg to trip the other woman, who took a header into the sawdust. Holly ' moved quickly to disarm the girl, only to discover that Tricia hadn’t been the only woman to respond to Athena’s stirring oratory. Grunts, groans, and clanging metal echoed throughout the arena as Holly found herself smack in the middle of an all-out free-for-all involving over a dozen would-be gladiators. Studded maces dented helmets. Armored bodies slammed against each other. Heated voices hissed, swore, and howled in fury as die aggrieved women took out years of suppressed anger and frustration on their fellow refugees. Blood and broken teeth spilled onto the sawdust.

  Just my luck, Holly thought, I’m the only one without a weapon. She mentally crucified her neglectful dressers. Thanks a lot, gals.

  She didn’t want to hurt anyone, but with the melee raging all around her, she had no choice but to fight back in self-defense. Battling figures hemmed her in on all sides. A wild-eyed gladiator swung a mace at her head, but Holly rolled beneath the blow, then jumped back up onto her feet just in time to see another woman jabbing a sword in her direction. Two more fighters grappling in front of her blocked Holly’s escape, so she grabbed on to their shoulders and used them for leverage as she swung around to kick the overeager swordswoman in the gut. The blade flew from the woman’s hands as she tumbled backward onto the sawdust, nearly getting trampled by the brawling women nearby. She scrambled desperately after her sword, only to get kicked in the ribs by another girl.

  Holly’s eyes lit up as she spied a leather bullwhip, Cat-woman’s weapon of choice, in the hands of a young Hispanic woman a few feet away. The girl flicked the whip ineptly, obviously having no idea how to use it. It was embarrassing to watch. What a waste, Holly thought.

  “I’ll take that, thanks!” She elbowed the girl in the chin and yanked the whip from her fingers. It felt reassuringly familiar. Holly couldn’t work the whip the way Selina could, but she had picked up the basics over the years. She 'cracked the whip in warning, carving out a little breathing room in the midst of the violence. The sharp report of the whip cut through the tumult. Fearful “warriors” backed away from Holly.

  That’s better, she thought. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she saw that at least a third of the gladiators had already had the fight beaten out of them. Their moaning bodies were strewn about the floor of the arena. Thankfully, the majority of the brawlers possessed more enthusiasm than skill; they wielded the archaic weapons clumsily, exhausting themselves as well as their opponents. Holly guessed that most of them had never been in a real fight before, let alone pitted themselves against the worst that Gotham’s underworld had to offer. Selina could take out this whole bunch without even breaking a sweat....

  With maybe one notable exception.

  Holly spied another warrior cutting a swath through the inept gladiators. A bronze faceplate, fashioned in the semblance of the classical Greek mask of Comedy, concealed the woman’s features, but there was no mistaking her fighting abilities. Twirling a blunt cudgel like a baton, she bludgeoned the daylights out of her adversaries while nimbly evading every blow or thrust directed at her. She practically-danced through the frenzied melee, leaving a trail of battered gladiators behind. None of the other women could even lay a hand on her.

  Uh-oh, Holly thought. Better keep an eye out for Funny Face there.

  A pair of charging warriors distracted her from the mystery woman. Whooping like they were hyped up on Joker Juice, they clearly intended to tag team Holly with extreme prejudice. Safety in numbers proved no protection, however, as Holly snapped her stolen whip. The lash wrapped itself around the lead attacker’s waist, yanking her off her feet and directly into the path of her comrade. The partners went down in a clatter of clanging armor. Angry obscenities assailed the ears of the gods.

  Holly jerked the whip loose and glanced around to see who was next. Only a few feet away, two dueling gladiators had managed to get the chains of their maces hopelessly tangled together. Cursing loudly, they struggled to free their weapons while simultaneously kicking at each other’s shins. Holly didn’t know whether to laugh or shake her head in dismay.

  This whole thing is insane, Holly thought. What’s so “purifying" about encouraging untrained, emotionally damaged girls to beat each other up?

  She considered trying to break up the fight in front of her, but before she could intervene, the female dynamo embodying Comedy leapt between the two women. Kicking out her legs in midair, she nailed both women with her steel-shod heels, then landed adroitly on her feet a few yards away from Holly, who couldn’t help being impressed by the stranger’s agility. The masked woman triumphantly spun the cudgel above her head before taking a bow. She faced Holly across the suddenly silent arena. Holly realized belatedly that they were the last two women standing.

  Holly tightened her grip on the bullwhip. Fine, she thought. If Funny Face isn ’t going to back down, then neither am I. Perspiration dripped beneath her helmet and armor. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. To be honest, part of her was enjoying the workout; it had been a while since she’d kicked a little butt. Athena wants a show? Okay, let’s give her one.

  Holly imagined Athena’s cool gray eyes gazing down on them, but couldn’t risk sneaking a peek at the balcony to see how their supposed benefactress was reacting to the spectacle so far. Wounded gladiators crawled away to the fri
nges of the arena, getting safely out of the way. Discarded weapons littered the ground. The hot sun shone down through the glass dome overhead. Naturally, the coliseum was not air-conditioned. The stuffy atmosphere reeked of blood and sweat. Holly figured she didn’t smell too fresh either.

  She and Funny Face warily circled each other, taking each other’s measure. Holly briefly wondered what the other woman’s story was before pushing the thought aside. Win first; ask questions later, she reminded herself. Remember what they say about curiosity and cats.

  The masked woman made the first move, swinging at Holly with the weighted end of the cudgel. Holly darted to the left, dodging the strike, and came up quickly behind Funny Face. Holding on to a length of whip with both hands, she wrapped it around the other woman’s throat like a garrote. “Ha!” she gloated as Funny Face let out a strangled gasp. The club slipped from her opponent’s grasp as her fingers clutched at the oiled rope around her neck. Holly grinned victoriously. It was just like Selina always said: When in doubt, fight dirty.

  Of course, she also said, Never drop your guard....

  Funny Face jabbed her armored elbow into Holly’s side hard enough to dent the metal cuirass. The pain loosened Holly’s grip on the lash and the masked woman yanked the rope away from her throat. Springing forward onto her hands, she slammed the soles of her feet into

  Holly’s lower jaw. Blood sprayed from a busted lip as Holly reeled backward, letting go of the whip, even as her acrobatic enemy flipped back onto her feet. Panting hard, both women assumed defensive positions as they circled each other once more, this time unarmed. Holly’s whip lay on the ground nearby, tantalizingly out of reach, along with the fallen club.

  Damn, she’s good. Holly wiped the blood from her lips. Need to switch tactics and move this fight inside. Her eyes narrowed as she looked for an opening. The molded steel armor felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She pined for her black leather catsuit....