Ghostwriter

Chapter 29

When Red Hood's eyes open, they're met with a wide-eyed gaze.

Antigone.

It's as if the tide barrels in all at once.

He pulls against his bonding, thrashing forward to get to her. "Annie! Annie—"

"Not to interrupt, but we're in the middle of something here." Holcomb Fuse clamps a hand down on her shoulder and drags her so that's she's just out of reach.

She looks like hell and smells like burnt flesh. Red Hood's nose scrunches and his heart drops. It's worse than he thought, but at least she's not dead. He can work with that.

Antigone hangs her head, and Holcomb whispers things in her ear. Red Hood's fists clench.

They're still at the bottom of the garage, in the very center. All the candles are lit (as fruity as ever. What's wrong with these people?), and it doesn't escape his eye how Antigone keeps flinching away from the fire.

Except this time, there's no silence. It's deafening, actually.

People shout at them from above, each floor of the parking garage growing more crowded by the minute. Red Hood tenses. That's a lot of people he's going to have to fight. Where'd his backup go?

Wait. Pause.

It takes time to gather people, especially this many. A significant amount of time. For this many to gather in secret, it would take a super long, really big distraction. The kind of one where no one notices, or no one cared enough about, masses of oddly dressed people parading into the garage.

A large distraction. Something big enough to draw the Batman and Co away.

Or maybe it's not a distraction. Maybe it's the main course. Who calls this many people together to see a live execution?

...Their deaths were supposed to be the appetizer. A preshow of power to an entire play of livid lunacy.

This rescue mission just got a whole lot more complicated (because, you know, fighting an angry mass mob of bad guys with the pressure of not knowing where your kidnapped kid is while trying to save your soulmate who clearly can't run isn't hard enough. He really needed the additive of 'no backup', thanks.).

He's chained to one of the pillars. Both his guns are gone. Loads of wood gather at his feet, and a gasoline tank stands off to the side not a meter away.

Well, it's more creative than some, he'll give them that.

They're still stupid, or just very confident in their sheer numbers. They didn't exactly pat him down: he's still got his toolbelt and loads of knifes on him.

Above, the cultists chant in one loud voice,

"Purify! Purify! Purify!"

Red Hood wiggles the pick out of his sleeve and begins to work at break-neck pace.

Holcomb Fuse drags Antigone to the very center, where all his people can see her. He forces her on her knees, and the audience roars. He adjusts a mic on his lapel. The chanting quiets.

"My enlightened brethren!"

Here we go.

Red Hood works faster. Antigone's gaze, wide but empty, never leaves him. Her lip quivers and her body shakes. Something inside him aches. "I'm coming, doll. Just hold on a little longer."

She can't hear him. He can barely hear himself.

"The time has come for justice to be served. This slanderer will face the iron hand of Translaw, as an example to anyone else who might dare cross our sacred vow of silence!"