Batman: Dark Side

By: C.W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

Batman and all other related characters are copyright © 2001 by DC Comics Inc.
and are used herein without permission for non-profit, fan-fiction entertainment
purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

Darth Maul and related characters are copyright ©2001 by LucasFilm Ltd. And
are used herein without permission for non-profit, fan-fiction entertainment
purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

This original piece of fiction is copyright © 2001 by C.W. Blaine. All comments
and questions should be directed to the e-mail address above.

JLA Watchtower, Earth, Present Day:

“We are going to get into major trouble, you know that?” Booster Gold asked
Blue Beetle. It had been the seventh time he had asked the question in the past
thirty minutes.

The Blue Beetle smiled, his eyes glistening from behind his mask’s yellow
goggles. Plastic Man had invited them to the Watchtower, for a game of poker
that would include not only themselves, but also reserve members Guy Gardner
and Captain Marvel. Both Booster Gold and Blue Beetle were hoping to cash in
big on the naïve Captain Marvel.

While waiting for the others to arrive, the two heroes had excused themselves to
wander about. As reserve members, they weren’t given exclusive rights to come
to the Watchtower, but they also were entitled to certain privileges once they got
there. Ted Kord, the industrialist-sans-genius behind the mask of Blue Beetle had
been waiting months to get into the JLA workshop once occupied by former
member Steel. Steel was known throughout the super-hero community as a
“mad-tinkerer”, always working on something big and technical. Kord was hoping
to find something useful.

“Mike!” Blue Beetle called to his partner. “Come here, take a look!”

Booster looked to the ceiling and sighed. Any minute now, an active member like
Superman or Aquaman was going to come in, pick them up by the back of their
necks and toss them into teleporters to send them home. Worse, they would be
penniless.

Well, Booster would be; Ted was a millionaire who seemed to be able to make
money just when he needed it.
“What is it?” Booster asked as he came around to view the device. It seemed to
be a large-scale teleporter.

“I don’t know!” Blue Beetle exclaimed, rubbing his hands together with glee.
Booster knew that tone in his voice.

“Please, Ted, let’s just leave. The cards await my friend.”

Blue Beetle waved him off and approached a computer terminal attached to the
console. “It’s Russian!”

“I can’t read Russian and neither can you. Let’s go.”

“I think this is a light speed velocity indicator; the kind S.T.A.R. Labs uses when
they test the Flash’s powers.” Blue Beetle moved over to a control cabinet and
pulled open a drawer. There were circuit boards mounted on the inside. He
reached for one.

“Ted!” Booster exclaimed.

Blue Beetle pulled out the card and examined it. “Man! Look at this! Oh, lordy!
This is top-of-the-line WayneTech stuff!”

From the hallway outside, they heard two people speaking. The baritone voice of
Superman made them stop in their tracks. Booster mouthed a warning to Blue
Beetle, who quickly jammed the board back in, not checking to see if he had
actually installed it correctly and slammed the drawer shut.

Superman, followed by Green Lantern came walking in. “What are you two doing
in here?” Superman asked, arms crossed over the large “S” on his chest.

Both heroes looked down at the floor. “Nothin’,” they both said together.

“You losers get out of here,” Green Lantern added, using his power ring to
conjure up a blinking green exit sign next to the door.

“You’re the loser, you Hal Jordan wanna-be,” Booster quipped as he exited.
Superman and Green Lantern stepped into the passageway after him, with Blue
Beetle bringing up the rear.

“Get the lights, Ted,” Superman said, as he began to escort Booster towards a
waiting teleporter. Green Lantern stood at the ready to receive Blue Beetle.

Without looking, Blue Beetle smacked a wall switch and stepped out. Green
Lantern smirked. “You guys don’t belong here.”
“Your team sucks,” came the reply as they began the walk towards the teleporter.

“No, you team sucked! That’s why it’s not a team anymore, loser.”

Blue Beetle stopped and turned to face the younger man. “Hey, Lantern, my fly is
unzipped.”

Reflexively, Green Lantern’s eyes went down to where a zipper should have
been on Blue Beetle’s costume. Immediately, he knew he had been suckered.

“Hell, we took on Doomsday, sorry little whiny-butt,” Blue Beetle commented as a

red-faced Green Lantern began their trek again.

Unseen to the eyes of the departing heroes, the machine that had been the
subject of study only minutes before, began to hum as electricity poured into it
after an inattentive Blue Beetle had accidentally pressed its activation switch. As
the internal computer began to run a self-diagnostic, a small spark erupted from
the control board that had been placed back incorrectly.

Hidden apartment of Darth Sidious, Coruscant, a long time ago, in a galaxy

far, far away:

Darth Maul sat perfectly still, drawing the Force in and allowing it to penetrate his
very soul. He had recently returned from a mission where he had utterly
destroyed the leadership of the intergalactic criminal organization Black Sun. His
master, Darth Sidious, was away, carefully inspecting every facet of his master
plan to bring the Sith back to power.

Centuries before, the Sith had been a powerful force, a family, in a strange way,
that nearly was able to conquer the galaxy. The Republic, though, with it’s self-
righteous Jedi Knights, had managed to beat the Sith back. For a millennia, the
Sith had waited, the traditions of the ancient order being passed from master to
apprentice. Darth Maul smiled at the word “apprentice”. It meant one with the skill
to become a master of the Dark Side. The Jedi used the term “padawan learner”;
like a nagdog that has to be trained to relieve itself on the flimsyplast.

His hatred of the Jedi knew no bounds, for they were the ones that deprived his
order its rightful place in the hierarchy of the galaxy. The Sith were meant to be
the rulers, for they knew what it took to keep the masses under control. The Jedi
preached patience and virtue, pacifistic ideals that generally allowed weaker
beings to kill the Jedi. The Sith took their power from the hottest embers of
emotion they could muster: lust, anger and jealousy. These are what powered a
Sith Lord when he went into battle.
And like his brethren before him, Darth Maul was indeed a Sith Lord.

Maul stood up and cast his cloak aside. His body, adorned with red and black
tattoos, along with the horny projections on his skull, gave him the appearance of
a devil of so many legends. He used the Force to call his double-bladed light
saber to him. With a snap-hiss, a scarlet blade emanated from each end of the
hilt, giving the impression of a battle-stave. The weapon was modeled after the
personal lightsaber of the famed Sith Lord, Exar Kunn, and Maul took great
satisfaction in knowing he was carrying out the traditions that Kunn had honored.

A mental command, and his trio of small, round spy droids came floating to him.
It was impossible for Maul to go outside during the day, even though many of
Coruscant’s lower levels hadn’t seen the sun in thousands of years. The planet
was one large city; every single centimeter of land had been built upon and then
built up upon. The only exception was the frozen poles, and Maul was not about
to live there. It was beneath his station as a Sith Lord.

His master called him impatient at times, but said that was merely a sign of
youthful vigor. Maul desperately wanted to simply hop onto a shuttle and fly over
to the Jedi Temple. He was more than confident that he could kill very single last
Jedi. He swung his lightsaber in spinning arcs before him as he imagined Jedi
padawans running from him, clearing the way for the “Jedi Masters”. Oh, how he
longed to lock blades with the likes of Mace Windu and Ki-Adi-Mundi!

Still, his master was intent on keeping them hidden for the time being as he
slowly manipulated events. “Why take on a whole army when you can convince
someone else’s army to do it for you?” his master would tell him. The spinning
lightsaber nearly clipped one of the three remote droids. The exercise was
simple: try hitting the droids with the weapon, while using the Force to push them
out of the way. Because the droids were mechanicals, they were blank spots in
the Force, so Maul had to concentrate on the small microbes and mites that were
around the droids in order to know their exact location. The droids would push
the living creatures out of the way as they moved through the air, creating a path
of sorts that Maul could “see” through the Force.

One of the droids got behind him and powered up its small laser to strike him.
The energy would not nearly be enough to kill him, but it would dig into the skin
and burn a small hole in his muscle and tissue. Maul sensed the death of several
bacterium as they were burned by the powering laser and kicked a foot out
behind him as he brought the lower part of his lightsaber up to slash at a probe at
his ear. Concentrating, he used the Force to push both probes out of the way
before either his weapon or his foot could connect. The third droid sensed he
was open and moved in to strike, singling out his left eye. Maul moved just in
time as the laser glanced off the side of his face.
The wound cauterized instantly and pain shot through the Sith Lord’s body. His
anger grew into a white-hot curtain and he summoned the Dark Side to him. He
felt it feed his anger; just a fuel is fed to a hyperdrive. Suddenly, his perceptions
changed and he saw the world truly through the Dark Side. Spinning the
lightsaber in one hand, he slashed out at the droid that had attempted to shoot
him in the back. The energy beam sliced immediately through the small metallic
body. As it exploded, Maul spun the lightsaber down and into an arc. Gathering
the Force to him, he back flipped over his own arc, landing and bringing the
weapon up and through a second droid.

The last droid’s preservation programming kicked in. It was a formidable set of
instructions, written by Darth Maul himself. Inside the delicate circuitry of the
floating droid, instructions were sent to small transformers that stepped up the
power of the main laser.

Maul sneered, yellow, jagged teeth glistening in the dim light of the apartment. A
flick of his thumb and the lightsaber extinguished as the droid moved in for the
kill. The programming Maul had added to its functions allowed it to thermally
scan an opponent and find the portions of the body where the greatest heat was
generated. Normally, this would indicate vital organs, such as a heart. Had he
been a hapless opponent, perhaps even an accursed Jedi Knight, he would be in
great mortal danger, but the Dark Side was his ally and as the droid zipped in on
its repulsors to shoot him, Maul brought a black gloved fist up and the droid
stopped in midair, caught in the Force.

Maul opened his fingers and then suddenly closed them again and the droid
exploded. Maul inhaled the smoke from the droid’s demise, relishing in his
victory. He would have to program new druids and clean up the mess before his
master returned.

Drenched in sweat, he considered stepping into the refresher to take a shower,

but the smoke from his prey clung to him and mixed with his own perspiration,
and he decided that he enjoyed the smell. He briefly wondered, as he picked up
tunic and put it on, if he would be able to smell the dead Jedi mixed with how
own odor once he and his master revealed themselves. The thought of finding
out made his pulse quicken.

Clad in the robes of his order, his lightsaber hung at his belt, Darth Maul began to
step out towards the balcony. The artificial lighting outside was being dimmed, to
simulate actual nightfall, and it would be safe for him to step out. He had nothing
to fear except discovery. If his true nature were to be learned and passed on to
the Jedi, it would compromise his master’s plan. Then he would have to deal with
Darth Sidious. Darth Maul knew he couldn’t win that battle.

Yet.
One day, he knew, he would be the master and he would take an apprentice just
as his master had. The problem was finding a worthy apprentice, someone that
could be trained and possessed the stability of mind and body to handle all of the
gifts the Dark Side had to offer. Many Jedi in the past had turned to the Dark
Side, becoming so-called Dark Jedi, but in the end, they were consumed by the
Force energies they could not comprehend. Only through Sith training could one
learn to harness the real power of the Force. Only a real Sith Lord could
command the Dark Side.

Maul knew that he would have to soon seek out an apprentice, for it could take
years to train one from childhood to adult. If he could find an adult with the proper
mindset…

The Jedi were fearful of training anyone over a certain age, afraid that the fears
they had learned as children would compromise their training, leading them to
Dark Side. Maul scoffed at the idea. The Jedi were fools, wasting time with
curriculums and councils and debates. Age did not matter; potential and
willingness did.

Darth Maul was considering going in to dictate his latest philosophy, it was a Sith
tradition that every Dark Lord write about their beliefs for others to learn from,
when he felt a disturbance in the Force. His hand went slowly down to his
lightsaber. The disturbance wasn’t something he had felt before, though it was
similar to going into hyperspace. Force-sensitive individuals were able to feel a
change in the Force as they moved past lightspeed. Maul turned to see a
morphing glob of reality twisting before him, as if a stone was disrupting a sheet
of water. Was it a new Jedi weapon? Were they here to kill his master?

Darth Maul smiled and reached out with the Force. He felt something coming
from the rippling effect, but he couldn’t place it. A Sith Lord did not know fear,
they inspired it. Casting aside all caution, the Sith Lord stepped up to, then in the
ripple, determined to find out what exactly it was.

The Batcave, beneath Wayne Manor, outskirts of Gotham City, United

States of America, present day:

The bag was assailed by a flurry of blows from Kevlar lined gloves and boots.
Each blow would send it skirting away, held from flying across the room by a
single tether hooked somewhere up in the dark corners of the ceiling. Momentum
would carry it back to its attacker, who increased the frequency of the punches
and kicks. The Batman was only beginning to work up a sweat.

He was trying to adjust his workout routine, basing his new regiment on advice
he had received from Connor Hawke, the son of the original Green Arrow, Oliver
Queen. Hawke was probably one of maybe five people in the world that could
possible defeat the Batman in non-super-powered hand-to-hand combat. The
younger man had trained for years in the martial arts at a monastery that Queen
had visited on occasion without knowing that one of its members was actually his
son. Hawke’s simple way of looking at life, the inner peace he had achieved
through meditation and study had given him an edge in combat that few could
muster.

Batman had to push down and control his anger whenever he was in combat; he
had to simulate peace of mind. He had become very adept over the years at
fooling himself. Deep inside of him, probably trapped in the double helix of his
DNA, lurked a monster that was always trying to free itself from the disciplined
control he had maintained for years over his emotions. Most of the time, it was
easy; then sometimes it wasn’t. It was hardest when he thought of that night so
many years ago when a coward armed with a gun shot and killed his parents
before his eight-year-old eyes. It was at times like that he could hear the howl of
the beast in the back of his mind, the hot flashes of anger that clouded his vision
on served to increase the effect.

At those times, the emotions he had felt that night threatened to overwhelm his
judgment. He would feel the overwhelming desire to destroy, to rip apart the
killer’s body, to kick him until his soul bled.

Batman shook his head and saw that he had managed to thoroughly destroy the
bag; it’s stuffing laid about the floor. His knuckles hurt and he was sure that he
had rubbed the skin off of them under the “protection” of his gloves. The
breathable material of his costumes was soaked in sweat and he pushed back
his cowl to allow the cool, damp air of the cave aid in restoring him to a more
comfortable temperature. Connor had suggested that he do all of his workouts in
complete costume, since that is what he chose to do his “work” in.

From the smell of his costume, he decided that it had been a bad idea. If he were
going to do this, he would have to invest in twice as many costumes. It wasn’t
that he couldn’t afford it, for the face of the Batman, the man beneath the mask,
belonged to billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. No, his problem was that it was a
waste of money. The money spent on new costumes just for workouts could be
better put towards more noble goals, such as Dr. Leslie Thompkins free clinic in
Gotham City, or maybe go towards AIDS research. While he admitted he enjoyed
being rich on some level, he did not like the idea of people less fortunate
because of circumstance being denied those things others took for granted.

His accountant thought he did it just for the tax write-off. As he grabbed a bottle
of water from the small refrigerator next to the main computer, he reminded
himself that it was getting late in the year and that he hadn’t seen the latest
reports from WayneTech on its tax-deductible contributions. Normally, the
company CEO Lucious Fox would handle it, but he had been very busy the past
year and the Batman decided that Bruce Wayne might have to step in and make
sure the right contributions were made on time. Some charities were so
dependant upon his company’s money that they would shut down without it. He
couldn’t allow that.

He also made a note to contact his former partner, Nightwing, also secretly Bruce
Wayne’s adoptive son Richard Grayson. Richard, though he held down a
“normal” job as a police officer in the city of Bludhaven, was also independently
wealthy from investments made with his deceased parent’s life insurance
policies. Richard had his own charities he liked to donate to. They were opposite
in so many ways. Bruce would tithe to the local Methodist Church, Richard would
give to the local Buddhist Temple, explaining that nobody seemed to give them
anything and it wasn’t right. Bruce would give to the local Right-To-Life group;
Richard would hand over a check to a Pro-Choice organization. He was a
Republican against the death penalty; Richard was a Democrat in favor of it.

Still, he was his “son”, his apprentice for lack of a better word. They both agreed
that the defenseless needed to be protected, that justice had to be served out
judiciously in order to maintain order in society. They had slightly different
methods, but they had the exact same goal. The respect between the two was
unshakable.

The Batman was about to send an e-mail to Richard when the computer alarm
for an incoming JLA message went off. Batman pulled his cowl back up, knowing
that tonight was Plastic Man’s planned poker game and not all of the reserve
members knew who he was, and used his mouse to click the “receive” button.

The monitor instantly flashed up the image of a battered and bruised Superman.
“Batman, is that you?”

Batman could see a small fire burning behind the Man of Steel. The flames were
covering a broken piece of furniture. Considering who was going to be playing
poker, that wouldn’t be such a surprise. The bloody and split lip being sported by
Superman was. “What happened?”

“We were attacked,” Superman began. Batman thought he saw the familiar
yellow boot of Captain Marvel laying just on the edge of the camera’s view.
“Marvel and Kyle are down, Goy and Plastic Man are working on putting out the
fires…”

“Who did it?”

Superman shook his head. “I don’t know. He just appeared in the doorway of the
meeting room, caught us totally off guard. He didn’t even set off the intruder
alarms. At first, I thought it might be you in some ridiculous disguise…”

That took him by surprise. “Why me?”

“The way he fought. He was armed with some sort of energy staff that cut
through just about everything. It couldn’t penetrate my skin, so he attacked me
with telekinetic powers. He did something to Kyle, almost seemed like he took
over his mind. He’s in a bad way. We’ve asked Mr. Terrific and Dr. Mid-Nite from
the JSA to get up here.”

“A telekinetic? Could it be a white Martian?” Batman asked. White Martians were

able to assume various forms and had demonstrated telepathic abilities in the
past. Current JLA member Martian Manhunter was a green Martian. No Martians,
to the Batman’s knowledge, had ever shown to be telekinetic. “Have you
contacted J’onn?” Batman questioned, referring to the Martian Manhunter.

“No, you were the first person I contacted after getting medical help coming.”

“Why me?”

Superman took in a deep breath and wiped the blood from his lip. “Because he
left here in the teleporter that leads to Gotham City.”

East Side of Gotham City, present day:

He found himself hungry, for the first time in a long time. Normally, he ate at
regular times, since his routines were perfectly planned out to give him maximum
efficiency. The battle he had fought earlier, however, had taxed him more than
what he had thought. It hadn’t been a fight he could enjoy, though.

The humans he encountered were strong in the Force, especially the two with
the capes. Their clothing was strange, but no stranger than some of the outfits a
Hutt would dress their slaves in. He had sensed that while the Force flowed
through these beings, it manifested itself differently than what it did in himself.
The one thing that was abundantly clear was that the Dark Side was barely
present in any of them, and the two with the capes radiated so much of the Light
Side it almost hurt. What surprised him most was when he was able to land a
clear killing strike with his lightsaber on the human in the red and blue and the
blade wouldn’t pierce the skin.

It was amazing, but not without precedent. There were tales of the Sith that
talked about creatures outside the known galaxy that could resist a lightsaber’s
blade, and some that were even immune to the Force. While this place did not
have the same “taste”, it still flowed with the Force. He looked up into the night
sky at unfamiliar stars. Not one constellation was familiar and he assumed that
he had stepped through a hyperspace conduit. Probably some rogue scientist’s
experiment gone awry.
Retreat was never the way of the Sith, but he had no idea where he was at and
the language being spoken was beyond him. He managed to tap into the mind of
the one who wielded the ring. That would have been a formidable weapon and
Maul made a silent vow to retrieve the object to present to his master. However,
the ring-wielder had a strong will and Maul had to end the contact with lethal
force. Perhaps the human would live; it was possible if he had a strong mind.

The blue-and-red garbed one seemed to be the leader, and Maul guessed that
the strange symbol on his chest was an indication of authority. He reasoned that
if he were to obtain a similar symbol, perhaps he would be able to mingle better
among the humans of this world.

But there was another problem. All he saw were humans, everywhere, with the
exception of strange mammals that seemed to be interested in what was
obviously rubbish. A simple gesture with the Force sent them scurrying. They
reminded Maul of mynocks. There were also no spaceports, and the humans
transported themselves in archaic internal-combustion engine vehicles. The air
was polluted, almost as if they had no atmosphere filtering droids working. Didn’t
they realize that they would eventually deplete their planet of ozone? Were they
trying to make it a world suitable only for Hutts?

He decided that the only way to find out was to absorb the memories of
someone. It was an ancient Sith discipline that was not without its drawbacks.
Those memories would forever be engraved into Maul’s mind and the person
whom he stole them from would lose them forever. What of all of the humans of
this world were immune to his lightsaber? Would he have to resort to using on
the Force and his bare hands?

Darth Maul smiled and thanked the spirits of his ancestors for providing him with
the opportunity to test himself to his limits before he and his master embarked on
their plans of conquest. Here was a world where his lightsaber was useless; here
he would have to put his Sith magiks and training to use without the crutch of
technology. Perhaps it was his master who had sent the portal in the first place,
knowing that Maul would never back down from it. Yes, he thought to himself, this
was a test!

Maul opened the side compartment of his lightsaber and withdrew the power cell.
Gathering the Force to increase his strength, he crushed it. Now, no matter how
tempted he was to employ his weapon, he would be forced to use only the Force
and his own muscle. This was the true path of the Sith!

A human, obviously drunken, snorted from under some primitive form of

flimsyplast. Maul could sense the Force coming from the man, but it was tainted
with something, as if there was a great sadness on the heart of the man. Maul
didn’t care; it was obvious by his sleeping in the open he was a toss-off from
society. He would serve Maul’s purposes adequately.
Police Headquarters rooftop, Gotham City, present day:

Nightwing and Huntress eyed each other the way old lovers did when they would
rather not be near each other. Batman knew that, despite the major differences in
their personalities, the two were highly attracted to each other. Nightwing was
here because Batman did not want to take his newest partner, teenager Timothy
Drake, the newest Robin, into a battle with someone who tossed Superman
around. The Huntress was here because she had heard, somehow, what had
happened. Batman wanted to tell her to go home, but then he thought better of it.
It would be better to know exactly where she was in this situation.

“I’ve gotten a complete report from Superman about our quarry. It’s apparently a
male humanoid, species unknown…”

“It’s an alien?” Nightwing asked.

Batman nodded. “Superman couldn’t identify the species; I’ve got oracle working
on it, seeing if we can identify it. Whatever it is, it’s highly trained in hand-to-hand
combat. It had no problem dealing with Guy Gardner. It also appears to have
telepathic and telekinetic abilities. It took out Green Lantern and Captain Marvel,
so it’s dangerous.”

“I’ll check the docks,” Huntress said, turning to walk away. She cast a cold glance
at Nightwing.

“No,” came Batman’s reply. “You can check out the new industrial area.”

“Excuse me? I don’t work for you…I’m here to help, not to take orders. I’m not in
awe of you like your boy wonder here.”

He didn’t have time for this. If he didn’t take care of this problem soon, it could
get out of hand. Gotham normally did not cater too well to super-powered
criminals. There wasn’t enough money here, not like New York or Metropolis.
While he knew that most super-heroes respected his “hands-off” rule about
Gotham City, Superman was known to violate it once in awhile when he thought
Batman couldn’t handle it. It was one thing to tell Booster Gold or the Flash to
stay out of Gotham City; it was another when Superman came by. He was the
“leader” of the super-hero community and they would follow his lead. So long as
he kept Superman out of his city, the others would stay away as well.

All so-called super-heroes in Gotham City were required to get the blessing of
the Bat before being able to operate. If not, the Batman would simply use his
deductive abilities to discover their identity and blackmail them into stopping. He
didn’t want someone getting carried away and killing someone. Batman had a
problem with killing, for any reason.

The Huntress did not.

Whereas Batman kept his inner demons in check, the Huntress did not make
such an effort. She had killed without remorse in the past, in the name of what
she called “justice”. All of the threats in the world could not get her to back off,
and so Batman had once tried to “bribe” her by recommending her a place on the
JLA. He had hoped that being surrounded by heroes such as Superman and
Wonder Woman she would lose that desire to kill.

She hadn’t.

On a mission, she had tried to kill the villain Prometheus, resulting in Batman
expelling her from the team. Since that time, their relationship was getting more
and more strained. He couldn’t blackmail her, simply because she knew what
Nightwing looked like under his mask, the result of a romantic interlude that still
angered batman when he thought about it. It was hard to imagine anyone living
in Gotham City not recognizing the ward of playboy Bruce Wayne, but,
apparently, Helena Bertinelli, the beautiful woman under the Huntress’s mask,
had not.

One day she could.

“Today you’ll be taking orders or else you can go home,” batman said with
authority.

She started to speak and she noticed that Nightwing shook his head slightly. She
huffed angrily and then headed to the corner of the building facing the area
Batman had directed her to. Throwing a line over to the next building, she was
gone. Nightwing looked to his mentor. “Why did you send her there?”

“There’s nothing there, so she’ll be safe. This creature could have killed any one
of the JLA members it encountered, including Superman. It might only be
reacting to what it perceives as attacks upon its person. Without knowing the
species, we’re going in blind.”

Nightwing rubbed the stubble forming on his chin. “How are we going to take this
guy out?”

Batman shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t want it killed, so we keep the
Huntress as far away from him as possible. If they get into a fight, she can
always use the self-defense argument for killing it.”

“Is it that good, as far as combat?”

Batman nodded, a slight smile on his face. “Yes.”

Nightwing wasn’t sure if the smile on the Batman’s face was good thing.

East Side of Gotham City, present day:

Scratching his head, Darth Maul had to take a pause to consider the information
he had absorbed from the transient man. It was his own fault, Maul reflected, for
using a sub-standard specimen for the process. It was obvious that this man had
destroyed most of his memories with intoxicants and only the most remote of
intelligence lay within its primitive brain.

Maul had managed to learn a few things about this place he had been sent to be
tested. The planet was called Earth and it belonged to no known intergalactic
government. There was no Republic, which meant there were no Jedi Knights.
However, this world was not alone. There were others worlds known to exist in
other parts of the galaxy, and each one had a champion…someone strong in the
Light Side of the Force. It was strange, the images and jumbled stories that now
resided in Maul’s brain. He discovered that the name of the human he had fought
on the moon was Superman and that he was not from this world. That made
sense to Maul. There were others of his ilk throughout this world; they were
called “super-heroes” and “metahumans”. All of them represented the Light Side
and they were in constant conflict with beings called “super-villains” for control of
this one world.

Maul snorted at the idea. Whole armies of Force-adept beings battling for control
of one insignificant world?

There was one other thing that seemed to be burned into the memories of the
man and that was the name of the protector of this city. He learned it was called
Gotham City; not an entirely vile name, though Maul preferred the name of the
next closest city: Bludhaven. This city was the domain of a Dark Knight, a human
called the Batman.

This Batman, from what Maul could understand, was not like the other humans of
this world, yet he was not a so-called “metahuman” and few labeled him as a
“super-hero”. He worked at night, coming from the shadows and had a veritable
army of apprentices that answered only to him. Even the local security forces had
to acknowledge his superiority.

The sound of human voices caused maul to step back into the shadows.
Observation of the enemy was important when waging a war, and Maul knew that
he was in a battle for his honor. He reasoned that this was the final test of his
worthiness; perhaps it was an ancient Sith tradition that young Dark Lords be
placed into an alien environment where they had to rely on their own skills to
survive. Just as Darth Sidious had told him, “One does not rule by a lightsaber,
one must rule by their own skill. The lightsaber is for discipline; the mind decides
how much discipline is needed.”

Maul understood that his test was to take this city from its Dark Knight, to earn
the right to bear the chest emblem of the Batman. Emblems were the sign of
power on this world, just as Jedi padawans wore a braid to signify their status.
Once the Dark Knight was defeated, Maul would present the symbol, a “bat”, to
his master as tribute and a sign of obedience. Perhaps then his master would let
him finally engage the hated Jedi!

The voices became clearer and Maul, from his hidden viewpoint, saw it was a
group of five young human males. Maul smiled; no matter where in the galaxy
you went, the men of the human race always seemed to congregate into groups,
packs if you will, like wild hunter animals. He could sense their intentions, so
strong were their emotions in the Force. They had come to cause mayhem, to
assault the transient man known to sleep in this alley; a primitive way of
establishing dominance in their territory. Pathetic, maul thought to himself;
without knowing the Force and embracing the Dark Side, these humans were
nothing but bacteria in the scheme of things.

One of the humans, obviously the leader and just slightly younger than Maul,
kicked the drunken man, who made only grunting sounds. Maul’s processes had
removed the man’s ability to speak; he was nothing more than a mobile bag of
intoxicated flesh. Since these humans were in need of a challenge, Maul decided
to give it to them.

He stepped from the shadows, his hood up to cover his features. He knew his
appearance would strike fear in them and he wanted to save it for last. “Move
away from the man,” Maul said in a deep, baritone voice. His accent made the
words sound not quite right.

“Who the hell are you?” the leader asked, smirking. He gave the man on the
ground another kick while a member of his “pack” searched the man’s pockets.
“Look what we have here, boys; seems we have a traveling monk or something!
Hey, this ain’t the set of Kung Fu, buddy!”

Maul took a defensive, yet passive stance, spreading his legs out to shoulder
width. For a moment, he desired to have his lightsaber in his hand and that stray
thought went out through the Force and he felt the hilt tremble slightly on his belt.
Maul took in a calming breath. “If you desire to hurt someone, why don’t you try
hurting me?”

All five began to laugh and the shortest of the group pointed at Maul. “He thinks
he’s the Bat!”
One of the other members of the group took a few steps toward the Sith Lord.
“Hey, ‘Batman’, why don’t you shove off before we have to put you down…
permanently?” the teenager asked, drawing a weapon from his back.

Maul looked at the weapon; it was a primitive slug-thrower. A Sith Lord could
deflect blaster bolts with his hands and the Force; slug-throwers were even less
of a problem, if one was concentrating. He saw the other youths pull similar
looking weapons out and Maul could feel their arrogance and confidence through
the Force. As it was even where he had come from, youth brought about a
feeling of immortality. His master had accused him of the same thing at various
times.

There was a huge difference between Maul’s arrogance and the arrogance of
these young humans. Maul had the Force as an ally.

Maul brought a hand up and waved it in front of the group and the Force reached
out and wrenched the weapons from the hands of his assailants. One fell to his
knees screaming and clutching a bleeding hand; his trigger finger had been lost
as well.

Before any of the group could respond, Maul reached up and pulled back his
hood. His yellow eyes glowed in the streetlight. “Son of a bitch,” the leader said
backing up. “It’s the freakin’ devil himself!”

One of the other members of the gang, upon seeing Maul’s visage, broke into a
run screaming the name “Jesus Christ”. Maul threw his arm out, maintaining eye
contact with leader, and used the Force to home in on his fleeing prey. It felt good
to the Sith Lord to be using the Dark Side so openly again; he had become too
dependent upon his lightsaber over the past few years and he had forgotten the
joy one could feel by allowing their anger to take physical form.

Just as the fleeing teenager made to the corner of the alley, the Force penetrated
his soft flesh, and like a cold hand, wrapped around his spinal cord. With the
merest of mental suggestions, Maul ripped the spine out of the escaping gang
member and sent it flying over the heads of his comrades. The body simply fell
forward from momentum and blood poured out into the street, coating it.

Calling the Force to him, Maul leapt 3 meters into the air, somersaulted and
landed behind two of the other gang members. A single blow to the back of the
neck to one of them ended life immediately, while the other swung a wild fist
towards Maul’s face. Maul caught it with one hand and held the arm there, while
kicking off the ground, spinning his body and landing a kick into the face of the
leader, who had pulled out a simple blade of metal to fight with.
As Maul landed, he pushed arm of his captive attacker up and kicked into the
boy’s armpit. The boy flew back and slammed into a brick wall. The remaining
teenager had picked up a pipe and came screaming at Maul, determined to
smash his skull in. Maul sent out a command in the Force, which burned its way
into the charging boy’s brain. The gang member stopped, took the pipe and
began hitting himself repeatedly with it until there was a resounding “pop” as his
skull fractured, releasing his primitive brain to the atmosphere.

Maul decided it was time to finish off the leader and he turned to approach him.
As he started to move, he felt another presence from above and the Force
screamed to him of something approaching fast. Maul whirled and caught a
primitive projectile in mid-air. He threw it down and look up in the direction from
where it came. He saw a female human, garbed in purple and black standing
there. He sensed a deep-rooted anger inside her and he found it …arousing. She
had no Force-potential, he could see that plainly in the way she did not stand out
against the living Force of the microbes in the air around her, but the hate and
hurt that seemed to explode from her very pores made her attractive to the Dark
Lord.

Contrary to rumors, the Sith were not perverted rapists who had to satisfy their
lusts on any female they came across. Indeed, if anything, the Sith were far more
particular in their choosing of mates. A potential mate had to be of correct
character and similar disposition in order that sired children would be raised
correctly. His master, Darth Sidious, had moved away from that long-standing
Sith tradition, much to Maul’s disliking. In Sith culture, Darth Sidious was a
Revisionist, a Dark Lord that believed the Sith must adapt to the ever changing
galaxy; Maul was a Traditionalist, a Dark Lord that believed that a changing
galaxy must be forced to conform to the beauty of the Sith way of life. It was only
one of many areas where he and his master conflicted.

Still, he respected his master and would obey his commands, no matter what.
That was the Sith way.

The female, he recognized from the memories he had absorbed, was called the
Huntress. She was rumored to be the mate of the Dark Knight. Maul smiled and
estimated the distance to the top of the building where she stood. Holding the
mate hostage was a sure way of convincing the Dark Knight to meet him in
combat. And, when he won, he thought to himself, he would take her for his own!

WayneTech Towers, Gotham City, present day:

“I’m sorry, Batman, I wish I could be of more help,” Connor Hawke said from the
video monitor in Bruce Wayne’s private office in the WayneTech Towers. The
Batman had stopped here, entering though a secret passage in the building, in
order to get the current Green Arrow’s opinion of his current quarry.
“So, you don’t recognize the fighting style, either?” the Batman asked.

“I watched the Watchtower tapes about five time and I’m completely lost. Some
moves are very similar to some forms of the martial arts I’ve studied, but it’s more
like the style that Nightwing uses. His style incorporates a lot of acrobatics and
boxing, while your style is more traditional. The fact that this being is also
telekinetic may explain many things. He may be using that ability to enhance his
fighting style.”

Batman paused for a moment. “What about his weapon usage?”

Connor shook his head. “Incredible is all I can say. I wish I had that sort of skill. In
fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fight like that before. The fact that he
took on Green Lantern, Superman and Captain Marvel with it indicates great
confidence.”

“Its possible that he wasn’t aware of their abilities to begin with. Did you notice
the look of astonishment when Superman wasn’t penetrated by the weapon?”

“I saw that…you know that a battle staff like that is usually meant for keeping
opponents away from you. It seems almost as if this creature, and I assume it’s
male, was drawing them in closer…as if he wanted to fight.”

“I agree…he is very aggressive and also very skilled…”

“I still haven’t come up with a species, yet, Batman,” came Oracle’s voice over an
intercom. “I’ve checked with the my contacts from Thanagar, who accessed their
galactic database and they haven’t come even close except for some odd
references to some organization that existed a long time ago. However, those
records are so incomplete that nothing useful could be ascertained except a
reference to swords made of light.”

“This creature or person wasn’t using a sword,” Batman said quietly.

“I know…Connor, did you happen to notice his way of dressing?”

“The robes? Yes, and the tattoos suggest membership in a monastic order, but I
don’t know of any orders that wear black robes and tattoo so extensively. Not
even some of the death cults I’ve encountered or studies would tattoo to that
extent.”

“Would you agree that the severity of the tattooing indicates a high level within
whatever order he belongs to?”
Connor was about to answer when a voice came across Batman’s cowl receiver.
It was cold and almost soothing, much like what the serpent in the Garden of
Eden must have sounded like. “Is this the Dark Knight? The one they call
‘Batman’?”

Batman cut the connection to both Oracle and Connor and stood up. How had he
gotten a communicator to get in touch with him? “This is Batman. Who is this?”

“I am Darth Maul, Dark Lord of the Sith,” came the voice. The Batman hurriedly
scribbled the name and title on a piece of paper. “I have your mate.”

My mate? Then it hit Batman that the Huntress may have disobeyed him after all.
“Where is my ‘mate’?”

There was a cool chuckle. “She is quite beautiful, for a human, so full of anger…”

Batman could hear the Huntress cursing like a sailor in the background. “Let her
go.”

Maul ignored the order. “They say that this is your city, Dark Knight, that you are
its protector. It is you that controls the other…metahumans…”

Batman punched up the homing program for the Huntress’s JLA signal device.
She didn’t possess a standard communicator that Batman distributed to his
closest allies. When she had been removed from the JLA, he had neglected to
get the device and she wouldn’t relinquish it when asked for it later. She had
claimed that Superman had put her on reserve status, to which Batman had
countered he didn’t care. It was still an open issue between Batman and
Superman.

There was a scream from the Huntress. “Are you paying attention, Dark Knight?”

“I’m listening,” the Batman replied as the computer brought up the location of the
Huntress’s JLA signal device. She had disobeyed him. “What do you want?”

There was a pause. “I want your city. I want your bat-emblem to wear upon my
chest, to acknowledge the superiority of the Dark Side.”

“Darkseid?” Batman asked, an edge to his voice. Darkseid was the ruler of
Apokolips, a planet far away that was accessible only through hyperspace travel.
Darkseid had set his sights on conquering Earth several times in the past and
only the efforts of the world’s heroes had been enough to stop him. Suddenly,
things were starting to fall into place.
“You will come for your mate, will you not? I will give you two standard Earth
hours to find us or I will avail myself to her charms myself!” Batman heard
another scream from the Huntress as the line was cut.

Batman punched up the JLA monitor room. Steel answered. “Batman, what’s the
status?”

“I’ve got the situation under control for the moment,” he lied. “I’ve got some new
information you may find useful.”

Batman rattled off the details of his conversation with Darth Maul and waited for
Steel’s response. “It could be, but I don’t know. I found out how the guy got in
here. Seems Blue Beetle was fooling around with a prototype deep-space
transporter I was working on at one time. A short in the electrical system boosted
the output power and fried the directional computers. It’s possible that this guy
was picked up off of Apokolips; some of the technology was from New Genesis.”
Half of the planetoid Apokolips resided on was called New Genesis, the result of
two separate planets being made into one. Several former members of the JLA
were from New Genesis. “I couldn’t be sure. I do know that I can send this guy
back to where he came from if we can get him back in the teleporter.”

Batman nodded and signed off. He then keyed in for access to Nightwing’s
communicator. “What’s up?” came the reply.

Batman again explained the situation and then told his former partner to round up
Robin and move to Oracle’s location. “If he believes that the Huntress is my
mate, there’s no telling what he’ll think you three are. If he is telepathic, he may
garner some bits of information from her that could put us in danger. It’s better if I
face him alone.”

“I don’t agree, Batman. This isn’t the Joker or Two-Face we’re talking about; this
is a guy who makes Deathstroke look like a girl scout,” Nightwing replied,
referring to the infamous mercenary that regularly fought the Titans, the super
team that Nightwing led.

“It’s not your decision to make. Gotham is my city; Bludhaven is yours. That’s the
agreement.”

There was a long pause and Batman knew the younger man was uncomfortable
with the decision. “Alright. Nightwing out.”

Batman stood up and made his way to the secret wall safe that only he and
Alfred, Bruce Wayne’s butler, knew about. He opened it and put the notes he had
jotted down inside and verified that his last will and testament was in it. Just a
sensible precaution he told himself. Closing the safe, he moved to the secret
entrance and was soon gone.
East Side of Gotham City, present day:

Darth Maul was accustomed to many of the horrors of the universe. He had
learned about death at a very young age; in fact, he learned the value of death
long before the value of life. He had, in the past few weeks, killed hundreds of
beings in the service of his master. He had slipped into Hutt dens; witnessed
debased acts of carnal desire that would make most sentients regurgitate their
stomach contents. None of that, however, could compare to the litany of threats
and curses that this woman known as the Huntress was throwing his way.

He did not even reach out with the Force; he didn’t need to. It was obvious from
the look in her eyes that any thoughts he might have had as taking her as a prize
were ludicrous. As his mind, working with this new barbaric tongue, tried to
exactly determine what she was saying to him, the bits and pieces that did get
through did not make him feel very secure.

If she were able to carry out even one of her threats, which Maul considered
absolutely physically impossible, the torment he would live through for the rest of
his life would be unimaginable. Every time he would cast a glance her way, a
new barrage of venom would assail him. This woman would make bounty hunter
turn away in embarrassment, he thought to himself. Surely even the darkest
parts of the Sith underworld, which was quite active centuries before, had no
tortures to compare to this constant berating by the captive human.

He would have killed her if it weren’t for the fact that he needed her mate. The
Dark Knight would not arrive if his mate were dead. It was obvious that no man
could love this woman and so it must have been her ample physical features that
kept her from being slain. Maul pitied the Dark Knight for a moment. It didn’t
matter to him how beautiful she was, he could not stomach the idea of taking that
mouth to his private quarters. Undoubtedly, he thought to himself, any fruit bore
by that garden would indeed be spoiled!

As he contemplated crushing her vocal cords with the Force, he became aware
of a new presence approaching. He could sense the raw determination, the total
focus to the task at hand. He almost smiled until he realized that he couldn’t
detect the Force in great quantities coming from the approaching human.

Maul walked to the edge of the roof, waiting as a figure swung across on a thin
line. The figure landed gracefully on the roof and turned to face him. He was clad
in an outfit that so many others seemed to like, dark with a mask and cape, as if
he had reason to hide his features. Maul realized then that maybe this Dark
Knight had to hide his identity, much as his master did. Perhaps it was necessary
for the ultimate plan. Perhaps he was not satisfied ruling only this Gotham City?
“Greetings, Dark Knight,” maul said stepping closer. “I assumed that you would
be a Sith.”

The Batman stood tall, a least a couple of centimeters taller than Maul, and he
was broader in the chest and shoulders. Maul could tell he was older, though not
quite as old as his master. “I don’t belong to any order,” was the Batman’s reply.

“What of this Jay-ell-a-ee? Is that not an order of some sort? Is that not where
your Jedi congregate to decide this world’s destiny?”

Batman observed the way Darth Maul moved; there was a springiness to his step
that indicated a constant effort to contain his energy. It reminded him of himself
only a decade before; always ready to charge into battle. Experience and time
had taught him differently. “It’s not an order and it doesn’t decide the fate of
humanity. It exists to aid the world.”

Maul laughed, and Batman got a good look at his damaged, rotten teeth. “I can
sense how the words sting you as you speak them. You hate being part of their
order, part of their organization. You don’t trust them…how alike we are, Dark
Knight. I, too, do not trust those with power that gather it all unto themselves.
Where I am from, they are called Jedi.”

Batman began to match Maul’s pace and the two began a circle on the rooftop.
Maul was glad that the woman had finally learned to be quiet. “I’ve never heard
of the Jedi, but I guarantee that you and I are nothing alike. I don’t kill.”

“What is killing to men such as you and I? Try and cover your feelings with pretty
speeches, Dark Knight, but the Force tells the truth. Deep inside you want to kill,
you want to destroy those who threaten you. You want order out of chaos.”

“Killing does not bring about order. It brings about suffering and fear.”

Maul began to pick up the pace a little. “Fear is my ally. Fear attracts the weak…
the strong…the fearful. Fear brings me strength over my enemies!”

Batman countered. “Fear does not bring strength, only the impression of it.”

“Is that why you stalk your prey from the shadows? Is it because you only give
the impression of strength? Is it that you truly cannot protect your city, Dark
Knight?”

Batman realized he was being goaded into fighting, but he was still wary of the
battle stave Darth Maul had employed in the Watchtower. “Why are you doing
this? It serves no purpose. Will Darkseid be served by killing me?”
“You misunderstand me, Dark Knight, the Dark Side does not call for your death,
only your submission to it. Release your anger, let free the rage in your soul. It
will destroy you if you keep it locked up tight, that is the Sith way, to let our
emotions free.”

Batman saw his opportunity and moved in to strike. Maul saw the attack coming
and smiled. Batman immediately threw a kick out to the lightsaber hanging
loosely at Maul’s side. It went up, but remained secure to his belt. Maul punched
down, catching the Batman’s shin. Pain shot up through the Batman’s leg as a
nerve went dead momentarily and then suddenly came to life. “Intellect always
overrides emotion,” the Batman said.

Suddenly, fists and kicks began to fly from the two. Batman would punch for the
face or chest, but the more limber Maul would block, while delivering small jabs
with his foot to the Batman’s thighs. This went on for a couple of minutes when
Batman began to realize that he was starting to lose feeling in one of his thighs.
Maul was attacking pressure points!

Batman feinted another face strike, but instead went for a heart punch which sent
the Dark Lord stumbling back. A wave of his hand and Batman felt himself being
lifted and tossed in the air. He back flipped and landed on his feet, assuming a
new attack stance. Maul came running and suddenly leapt forward, springing off
of his hands, calling the Force to him. Batman pulled a batarang out and tossed
it, aiming for Maul’s leg. The move made him suddenly remember his own
throbbing thigh and he noted that he was leaning to one side.

The razor-sharp batarang buried itself into Maul’s thigh and he came down a few
feet in front of the Batman. Both combatants nursed their sore thighs; Maul pulled
the batarang out and examined it. “Impressive. But, still, you are holding back.”

“I don’t kill.”

“You don’t seriously think you could kill me do you?” Maul asked, a wild look in
his eyes.

Batman smiled this time. “It doesn’t matter whether I could or not; I won’t do it.”

“You don’t deserve this city! You don’t deserve the title of Dark Knight!” Maul
exclaimed as he reached out with the Force. He needed something to push the
Dark Knight over the edge. Only by true blood combat could he return to his
master with honor.

Batman felt the knife-edge of the telepathic link. He had felt it many times before
when the Martian Manhunter had linked the entire JLA telepathically. “Get out of
my mind!” He moved forward and delivered a kick to Maul’s knee that should
have permanently damaged it, ending the fight. The dark lord jumped up and out
of the way, back flipping and landing a blow to the Batman’s chin.

As the Batman fell back, Maul continued the telepathic assault. An image came
to him, then a flurry of emotions. He probed further. “The rage in you is as great
as in myself or my master.”

Batman pushed himself back up and just managed to avoid his own batarang
being flung back at him. When he looked back up, Maul was on him, with a kick
to the sternum. The metal plate that was part of the costume prevented the
Batman’s chest from caving in with the blow. Batman stumbled back, but stopped
short of falling. When another kick came at him, his reflexes took over and he
grabbed Maul’s leg. Spinning him around until he was off balance, he tossed
Maul across the rooftop.

Maul rolled with throw and ended up in a crouch. “Perhaps it is only fitting that
your parents died when they did,” Maul said, using the information he had
gathered from the Batman’s mind. “They would only be disappointed in what they
produced.”

An animal snarl escaped from the Batman’s throat and Maul was happy to see
the warrior leap at him, hands extended like the claws of a bird of prey. As they
came in contact, they began a dance of slaps, kicks, jabs and punches. Each
attack was met with a counter-attack, which was met with still another attempt to
penetrate the martial defenses. Each was pushing themselves to their limit.

Maul noted with distinct pleasure that he was not relying on the Force to guide
his motions, instead, it was almost as if he were in a symbiotic relationship with
the Dark Knight. Here was his physical equal. Perhaps this Dark Knight did not
employ the Force; perhaps he existed on a pathetic planet in a backwater galaxy;
perhaps he ruled over a single city full of degenerate inhabitant. It did not matter.
Here was a being confident and sure in his place in the scheme of things, of his
purpose. Had he the Force-potential, Maul considered as he blocked a blow to
his groin, this Batman would make a fine apprentice.

Despite his anger, despite the build-up of heat and sweat in his costume, the
Batman found himself smiling. When he had discussed Maul’s abilities with
Nightwing, he actually found himself enjoying the prospect of engaging the alien
in hand-to-hand combat. Here he was, going blow for blow with a much younger
being, caught up in a frenzy of physical action like he had never experienced.
Too often, he had to hold back in everything he did, while here he did not. Here
was an opponent that wanted to see everything he had; an opponent that wanted
him to hit him so that he could learn something, so that he could test his own
abilities. Batman neither knew nor cared why Darth Maul had not pulled out his
staff; perhaps it was because there was a certain honor among beings like them.
Years of training, dedication and self-motivation to achieve absolute perfection.
That perfection could only be tested against someone of equal ability.

It looked as if it were going to be a stalemate that the two combatants would

continue until they both fell form exhaustion until Batman saw a flaw in Maul’s
defenses. The closer that Batman got to his face, the wilder the defense became.
Though the tattooing hid any blemishes, the Batman guessed that he had a
wound somewhere on the temple. The sweat from the physical demands Maul
was putting on his body must have been aggravating the area. Batman’s
knuckles were already sore beyond belief, but he had his gloves to protect him.

Batman blocked a punch, spun Maul around and hit him full force in the temple.
The dark lord fell to one knee as pain raced behind his eyes. At that moment, all
the enjoyment he had previously felt left him as he drew the dark side to him to
ease the pain. It was time to end this.

Darth Maul reached out with the Force and put a vise-like grip around the
Batman’s windpipe and began to slowly squeeze. The batman tried to break the
invisible grip, but was unable to and he soon felt himself lifting off of the ground.
Quickly, his hand went down to his utility belt, where he kept his flash-grenades.
As he pulled one out, her suddenly fell to the ground, the grip having been
released.

Maul sensed the presence; it was extremely strong in the Force. It felt like a
Jedi’s mind. So intent, though, he was on defeating the Dark Knight that he had
let his defenses down. He instantly reached for his lightsaber and pulled it free,
totally by reflex. His hatred of the Jedi overcoming his common sense.

Materializing out of the air, a large green-skinned humanoid appeared, taking

Maul totally off guard. As he brought the lightsaber hilt up, he remembered that
he had destroyed the power cell. Then the Martian Manhunter struck him
squarely in the face, rendering him unconscious.

JLA Watchtower, Earth’s Moon, present day:

Without ceremony, J’onn J’onzz dumped the still body of Darth Maul onto the
transporter pad. “Are you sure about this, Batman?”

Batman, being supported by Superman, nodded. “I don’t care what he’s done…
he’s too dangerous to be kept here. He needs to go back to Apokolips or
wherever he was from. I can’t imagine a prison cell that would hold him for very
long.”

The Martian Manhunter nodded again and stepped back as Steel activated the
device. A shimmering wave fell across the body and covered it. Within seconds,
the body was gone. Steel walked over to the control drawer and opened it. He
pulled out the circuit board that had been the culprit of the malfunction and
smashed it.

Batman nodded and motioned for Superman to help him back to the infirmary.
“Do you think we’ll ever know exactly what he was?”

Before Superman could answer, the Martian Manhunter interjected. “I got a

glimpse of his home system from his mind. He was a very, very powerful
telepath. I’ve tried to match the star systems to any known galaxy maps. I
couldn’t do it.”

“What does that mean?” Batman asked, rubbing a cracked rib.

“It means that he may not have even been from this reality. Its possible that he
was pulled straight out of Hypertime…that he’s part of some alternate reality.”

Batman remained silent for a moment. “Well, I hope he stays in that alternate
reality.”

“Does this mean that you are not upset with my having broken your non-
interference rule?” the Martian Manhunter asked.

“So long as word doesn’t get out that I needed your help, J’onn,” the Batman
managed to smile.

Superman smiled this time. “It would make one hell of a story for the Daily
Planet. Imagine the headline: Batman gets stomped.”

“Just remember, Clark,” Batman said as they entered the infirmary, “I’ve still got
that Kryptonite bullet.”

Hidden apartment of Darth Sidious, Coruscant, a long time ago, in a galaxy

far, far away:

“I have failed you, my master,” Darth Maul said as he kneeled, head bowed,
before his Sith master.

Darth Sidious raised an eyebrow from inside his cloak, wondering what his
apprentice was talking about. “Rise, Lord Maul, and tell me what it is that you
have not done.”

Darth Maul stood up, but kept his head lowered. “I have failed in my test against
the Dark Knight. His Jedi allies surprised me.”
Darth Sidious considered the words for a moment and then reached into his
apprentice’s mind. There was no resistance by Darth Maul and his master soon
discovered strange alien thoughts in his pupil’s mind. “Where did you obtain
these memories?” The Darth Sidious stepped back. “Perhaps you have
meditated too long, Lord Maul. Sometimes, when we concentrate strongly
enough on the Force, images of the past and present come into our minds. Your
desire to battle the Jedi has obviously left you open to suggestion from these
things. In that, I have failed you, my pupil.”

His master moved towards a window. Artificial lights were coming on, simulating
the rise of a sun. “I have completed the bargaining with the Trade Federation, the
blockade of Naboo will go according to schedule. Undoubtedly, the council will
send the Jedi in. Then, I will send you in, my pupil. Meditation is not enough, you
must be able to put your skills to the test.”

Darth Maul was about to speak up, to claim that he had experienced no vision,
but thought better of it. If his master thought he was suffering from some sort of
madness, then his chance to kill Jedi would be lost. Perhaps it all was a dream.
He considered it for a moment. Men that could not be hurt by lightsabers?
Women who curse to the point it embarrassed a Dark Lord? A normal man
holding his own in battle with a Sith?

Perhaps he had been dreaming. He smiled a sinister smile. He had obviously

been hurt when the spy droid had shot him and he had fallen into a Sith healing
trance. That explained everything.

As his master continued to speak of the future, Darth Maul contemplated how
many Jedi would fall before him.

Still, it didn’t explain why he was sore.

Or why his lightsaber had no power cell.

Or why his leg hurt from a deep penetrating wound.

He decided that after this Trade Federation business, he would look into exactly
what had happened to him. After all, he considered, this was going to be simple.
At most, two or three Jedi sent to Naboo to investigate the Trade Federation
blockade. He snorted. Probably only a Jedi Knight and a padawan learner.
Surely, they would be no match for him.

He had the Dark Side as his ally.

The End