The Lazarus Effect: Injustice

Fifty

Killing Joke- The Death and Ressurection Show

Ilya:

It's been a while since I've fallen asleep without knowing where. Waller hasn't drugged me in a long time to get me to go to sleep. This is new. I've never woken up in a room this nice before. Everything looks like it was hand-picked by someone who knows what they're doing. It reminds me of mom. I wonder what she's doing right now.

"We don't know what we're waking up to. Sixteen-year-old Ilya was already working for Waller and I can tell you that she's not just okay at her job. She's Waller's top agent. The only person she trusted more than Ilya was Rick Flag," is that Oliver?

I looked around the room to find a couple of luggage bags. I'm guessing one is for me and the other might be Oliver's. The clothes seem a little big for Oliver though. Inside is a couple of really nice Barrettas. Nonlethal. Functional. What's really useful are the Chinese daggers. Zip ties. I put something flexible on from the other bag and slipped some shoes on. Is this some kind of test? How does Oliver know about Waller or Colonel Flag? 

The sound of footsteps caught my attention. Whoever is on the other side of the door is pretty confident that I won't be a problem. I stood behind the door as he charged in and headed right for the bed. The other one stopped right in front of me. There are only two of them. I shut the door as quietly as possible and put the gun to the one standing by me's head. He put his hands up.

"Jay?" he called after the other one.

"What?" the guy by the bed turned to look at him. "Oh, shit,"

"Who the fuck are you guys?" I asked. I searched the guy in front of me to find nothing. I zipped tied his hands behind his back and motioned the other guy to me.

"I know this looks bad, Ilya,"

"We're not friends. You can call me Ilyasviel or Special Agent McClain. Turn around," I ordered. He grinned but did as he asked. "How many others are in the apartment?"

"Eight," the first guy I cuffed smirked. I knelt down in front of them recognizing them.

"We're in Gotham," I stated. He nodded. "Richard John Grayson also known as Nightwing. Formerly known as Robin. Jason Peter Todd current Robin. I thought you'd be younger. What, getting a real job was too real for you?"

"Oof," Grayson laughed.

"First, ouch," he laughed. "I'm not Robin anymore, cutie. I'm the Red Hood,"

"The-" I stood up and nodded.

"Right, the Joker incident. I forgot about that. Sorry," I looked him over. "You wear a red helmet now. I remember you now from Afganistan,"

"What?" he looked me over. I lifted my shirt to show him my ribs.

"This was you. You bounced the bullet off an iron sign behind me. Had I not seen what you intended to do you would have fucked up my lung,"

"I-" his eyes grew wide. "You almost crushed me with a diesel truck that was suspended over me and Kory. That was you?"

"Yeah, I used my holster," I smirked. "That was a good shot. You almost had me,"

"So messed up," Grayson shook his head.

"Don't praise me. I asked you. I asked you what that was more than once and you just smiled at me every time," he shook his head.

"Why is it bothering you? Not what I want to know. Why am I here? How did I get here? How long have I been here? Do you have a phone?"

"You're being hunted by Superman," Grayson answered. "You've been here a couple of days. We brought you in. Waller asked us too," that last one is a lie. "Anything else?"