From Gotham to Cairo

Grandioso

Damian came back into the room, holding onto his GPS system. 

Blip, blip.

"I do not understand it," Damian said confused.  "The blip on my GPS system says that my tracking device is here.  Hmm, the only reason the tracker would be here is-"

Knock, knock.

Jason walked over to open the door.

"Todd!  Don't do th-"

Too late.  Jason had already opened the door and on the other side was a man holding a MAC-10.

"Shit," Jason yelped, slamming the door and diving for cover.  "Damian, Dick, why didn't you warn me?"

"If you gave anyone a five second window to alert you of danger, you would be a lot farther in life, Todd."  Damian threw his hands over his head and flattened himself onto the ground, belly down.

"How do the Assassins know our location?" Dick asked, crouching behind a bedpost and eyeing the bullets piercing through the door warily.

"They know our secret identities, including Bruce's.  I guess they haven't attacked earlier because we haven't messed with their operations in awhile," Jason reasoned, digging through his luggage for a blunt object.

"Grayson, do you think that you can manage to escape via fire escape?"

"I think so," Dick guessed.

Dick put his acrobatic skills to the test, doing a spinning aerials, avoiding a volley of bullets.

"It's blocked off," Dick yelled over the gunfire.  He carefully retreated back.

"What do you mean blocked off?" Jason asked.

"Yes, please elaborate."

"The League of Assassins have high caliber rifles pointed to the fire escape.  We won't stand a chance if we try to go out that way," Dick explained breathlessly.

"We need to get the people out of here safely."

"They're not our priority," Damian responded.

"Excuse me?"

"Grandfather won't stand for meaningless violence.  It's the sole reason he brought you back," Damian reminded.  "He probably told them not to harm innocent civilians."

"So our only problem is getting our asses out," Jason clarified.  "Grandioso."

"You speak Spanish?"

"I guess it's true.  You only really get to know someone while they're on their deathbed," Jason sighed melodramatically.

"Why don't we just get our equipment and take the bastards on?" Damian asked.  Carefully, he rose from the floor, avoiding the bullets tearing through the door.  "They'll be through that door any second."

"We left our supplies in the closet back there," Jason answered, pointing to the closet.  "It's too close to where that Assassin is at.  From his position he can easily shoot us if we try to get it."

"Jason, do you think you can get to my phone?" Dick asked, ducking as a bullet flew by him.  "Goddamn bullets!"

"Yeah," Jason said, strategically advancing and ducking to Dick's phone.  "Who do you want me to call?" he asked, once he got a hold of the phone.

"Maybe a pizza parlor.  No, actually I'm in the mood for Chinese takeout.  Babs!  Who did you think we should call?" Dick asked incredulously.

Scowling, Jason punched in Babs' option on his phone.

"Hi, you've reached Barbara Gordon's voice mail.  I'm doing more important things than talking to you right now, so leave a message and I'll call you back if you're lucky.  Beep!"

"More important things, my ass!  Babs, we're in Cairo and sandwiched in between the League of Assassins' gunfire!  We need help, dammit!  You must have some Birds of Prey members stationed in Cairo!  If s- Grandioso, the cell died," Jason muttered.

"What happened?  Why did your cellular phone die?" Damian inquired sharply, flattening himself onto the floor to avoid a rainfall of bullets.

"Yeah, it's a really inconvenient time to not pay your phone bill," Jason added sarcastically, flipping a knife into his hand with careless ease.

"The Assassins must have messed with my signal.  Jason, I thought that you said you didn't have your equipment with you."

"C'mon, you can't expect me not to have a weapon on me at all times," Jason replied, dodging yet another round of bullets.

"Then why didn't you take it out earlier?"

"I, believe it or not, didn't want it to come to this," Jason said, preparing to throw.

"Jason!  No!"

"Todd, I will stand by this decision," Damian hollered, his tiny fists clenching.

Swip!

The blade traveled threw the air and met its mark: the Assassin's calf.

"Oh my God, don't do that to me," Dick shouted, collapsing into a roll to dodge a bullet.

Moaning, the Assassin attempted to reach for his gun.  Jason kicked it a few feet away from his hand.

"Guys, the front is clear.  We can mak-"

Jason was cut off by a colossus amount of Assassins storming up the stairs, raining bullets from their assault rifles.

"Scratch that," Jason said hastily, grabbing Damian's utility belt and assortment of Dick's crime fighting tools.  "Here," he said roughly, tossing them to their owners.

Damian had just enough time to change his bo staff to a bullet shield before he was fired upon.

Damian pressed a button on his utility belt, "Grayson, Todd, I sent the Redbird and the Nightbird our coordinates.  It will pick us up for extraction."

"Good.  I mean, Damian, why is the Nightbird following your utility belt's commands?" Dick asked.

"I may have, or may have not, hacked the Nightbird's programming to follow every instruction I give it," Damian admitted uncomfortably.  He threw his shield up to block a stray bullet as he spoke.

"You're lucky we're in the middle of a fire fight between the League of Assassins, or I wo-"

"Ladies, we can continue to argue or we can liberate ourselves from here," Jason offered.

"Fine.  I suppose the only way out is the direct way," Dick said, hastily leading the brothers out.

Throwing a batarang to disarm an assassin Damian said, "Grayson, our extraction vehicles will be in the parking lot."

"Got it," Dick replied, elbowing an Assassin's ribs and kicking their legs out from under them.

"Maneuver thirteen?" Damian asked, roundhouse kicking an Assassin.

"Too many people.  Maneuver eleven point three seems more appropriate," Jason answered, dodging a right hook.

"Agreed," Damian said, changing his bullet shield back to its original form.

"Yeah, that ma- wait!  What's maneuver eleven point three?  Since when do we have decimals?!"

"It's Todd's code word for-"

"Get the fuck out," Jason continued, smashing out a nearby window and landing swiftly in the parking lot.

Dick and Damian followed in suit.

"Here's our extraction vehicles," Damian said, mounting the Redbird.

"Let's hope your Nightbird is as good as you say it is, Dick," Jason said, clambering onto the Nightbird.