Secret Origins

CHAPTER 1 Two years later . . . The sprawling complex of the WayneTech radar substation in Metropolis covered acres of land on the outskirts of town. Dominated by the enormous radar dish in the center of the complex, the facility contained a low building attached to the dish's support platform. Inside were offices and control rooms, mainframe computers, and the most sophisticated radar and satellite-guidance technology available. Surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with razor-sharp curls of barbed wire, the substation was one of the crown jewels in Bruce Wayne's high-tech industrial empire. But for the past several months, Bruce had noticed security breaches in the deep-space radar monitoring network. Wayne Enterprises operated this facility for the federal government. Bruce knew that if he went through official channels, the investigation of these breaches would inevitably get bogged down for months in governmental red tape. And so the owner and CEO of Wayne Enterprises decided to investigate the situation himself. But not as Bruce Wayne. A caped figure dashed silently across the roof of the low office building. Glancing furtively left, then right, certain he was unseen, Batman firmly grasped a grill covering an open duct. Yanking it free, he slipped like a shadow into the building. Swinging acrobatically, then landing noiselessly on a rafter above the complex's main control room, Batman crouched in the darkness, peering down at the four people in the room below. The WayneTech technicians, clad in their long white lab coats, checked monitors, took readings, and prepared to close shop for another day. A tall, thin tech with floppy blond hair and large round glasses headed up a metal staircase leading to the exit. "Okay, I'm outta here," the skinny tech said, pausing at the top of the stairs. "Another week in the bag. Remember, Al, Lee, Cynthia, barbecue at my place Saturday night. You're all invited. Venus is rising early, and you know what that means! A wild time is guaranteed for all!" His fellow technicians turned to the young man, broad smiles plastered on their faces. "I'm there, Howie," replied Al, a heavyset, bald man, the senior member of the group. "Wouldn't miss it." "Sounds great," added Cynthia, a large, middle-aged woman, peering over the top of her reading glasses. "Thanks," chimed in Lee, a thin, dark-haired tech, the youngest of the group. "See you then." Stopping at the exit, Howie turned back to face his colleagues. "You guys are party animals," he snorted, giggling, then winking and flashing the thumbs-up sign. "Good night!" As the door closed behind Howie, the three remaining technicians glanced at one another in silent relief, the frozen smiles instantly vanishing from their faces. Batman gazed down from above, watching intently as Al stood and spoke to the others. "H'i chalt eed 'vaird go!" he shrieked in a shrill, inhuman voice, nodding toward the exit. Then, turning to Lee, he added, "Gy! Na'chrona tote!" The skinny young man nodded, then walked quickly to a bank of large mainframe consoles lining the back wall. Batman's mind raced. He'd been all over the world, heard hundreds of languages, but this speech was completely foreign to him. Shifting his position to get a better view, Batman wondered why this crew would suddenly stop speaking English when Howie left the room. Grasping an enormous console towering ten feet in the air, Lee easily lifted the weighty piece of equipment, moving it aside as if it were an empty cardboard box. Cynthia strode to the space vacated by the console, reached up with her right hand, and punched a hole in the thick stone wall. Shoving her arm into the hole, she lifted out an odd-looking piece of technology abouTeitelbaum, Michael is the author of 'Secret Origins' with ISBN 9780553487701 and ISBN 0553487701.