The woman’s voice was openly mocking now. Huntmaster consigned himself to a headless grave.
“Headhunter,” indeed.
Then a light thwang snapped him up. A Batarang had implanted itself in the chink between Headhunter’s chest plate and neck brace.
Huntmaster braced himself.
Like a swarm of wasps, electricity danced through and across Headhunter’s body, some spreading to Huntmaster as well. Both dropped, fighting for strength. As Huntmaster pushed himself upright, vision swimming and A.I.s going crazy, Nightwing swooped past and scooped him up, dropping into cover.
“You okay, kid?”
Huntmaster struggled to look up, to identify his savior. His entire body twitched at random as electricity continued to dance through his form, triggering the servos attached to his skeleton.
“Y- yeah…?”
“Good. Stay down, the electricity will diffuse in a minute. We’ve got this.”
Huntmaster nodded, curling into a ball. He was fighting a raging headache and struggling not to cry. A moment later Nightwing was gone, back in the fray.
The female voice from before echoed through the harbor as he did so, Headhunter recuperating quickly.
“Batman and the original Robin! What an amazing gift, Huntmaster, you shouldn’t have! You two will be easy to crush.”
“Not if reinforcements come through!”
Nightwing whacked Headhunter’s neck, spinning around him effortlessly.
His remark was immediately justified, though not by the people he expected. Bombshell Blonde and Sync arrived just as Cyborg got into position and began to lay down covering fire. Between the lovely couple and the grown boy wonder, Headhunter seemed to stall. Less than fifteen seconds was enough to drop him to his knees.
Then he scanned.
The pulses shot out in rapid bursts of light, the strobe effect inducing nausea in Huntmaster even behind cover. After ten seconds he stood and one hand clamped shut around Bombshell Blonde’s wrist, the other around Sync’s at a moment that should not have been possible.
He twisted, sheer strength snapping Sync’s armour, and forced the two vigilantes to drop their weapons. Then he swung them in front of his frame. His chest plate split, then opened. Two gun barrels presented themselves. Nightwing screamed in outrage but Headhunter spun and kicked him away.
Then, as if in slow motion, he brought the two vigilantes up to finish the execution. They made eye contact, terrified, and reached for each others’ free hand.
Their fingers never made it.
My Muse Is On Vacation 