He'd been waiting for this for several weeks now. He was actually surprised he hadn't heard from either one before now, but with ShadowWing, one never knew what that girl was thinking. Spirit Wolf, on the other hand, was an easy read.

"I know the damned entrance is in here somewhere, Alfred," came the extremely peeved voice above stairs. Cowl pulled back from his face, Bruce Wayne walked to the stairway to listen to the voices easier. "Either help or get the hell out of the way. I have a bone to pick with that pointy-eared menace!"

About three minutes later there was the click of the clock door opening and a startled "whoah" following it. The seeker of the Batcave recovered her equilibrium (and outrage) and stomped down the steps. Bruce walked back to the Cray and sat back down, his back to the stairwell. He'd have to intimidate Shadow early on in this fight to make any headway.

He heard her boots clicking sharply on the stone floor as she approached. His chair was wheeled around suddenly and she was looming over him like an outraged specter. Attired in civilian guise, Shadow Travis was a lovely woman, around his age which was mid thirties, large brown eyes, the dark-tone of a Native American and average height. Brown-black hair was shorter than he last remembered seeing it and pulled back into a swinging ponytail.

"You're an idiot," she spat at him.

He raised an eyebrow. Obviously he'd already lost the intimidation advantage before whatever argument she intended to start began. "Why?" he asked mildly though he knew the answer.

She knew he knew it too. "Don't patronize me, you rat with wings. I've a good mind to see how well you do fly and pitch you over that cliff some distance away from the house."

"Or you can use that abyss over there," he offered calmly, pointing in the direction of the flat drop some yards away.

She gaped, struck dumb for a moment, and recovered. "Not on your life, you probably have fail safes all over that thing." He smiled; she was right. "I want to see my file!"

"Why?" he asked again.

"I'm not in the mood to play Echo, Bruce," she snapped again.

"You're not in the mood to do anything except rant and rave," noted Bruce wryly. "Why don't you calm down and we'll discuss this like rational people?" He paused. "How do you know I have a file on you?"

She cast him a withering look. "You probably have a file on everything that has moved in or around the JLA since it's inception, including any termites and cockroaches in the buildings!"

Bruce had to smile. She was close. "None on the vermin infestations," he admitted, "but you're right about the rest."

"You-" Shadow was again at a loss for words. "I'd hurt you if I thought I could actually do it." With a heavy sigh she snagged the toe of her boot around a bench off to the side and drug it next to this chair. "I'm not going to ask why, the answer is so obvious a four-year old could figure out. And I know it's not all that difficult to take me out, I'm just a small banana in the large bunch." He grinned at her odd analogy. "I just want to know why you've never told anyone you have them."

He looked away and shrugged. "Never came up," he mumbled.

Shadow stared at him in utter disbelief. "It never came up?" she shrieked in high decibels. He winced.

"It's not exactly a conversation starter," he mumbled again, beginning to type in various codes on the keyboard in front of him after he swung around to face the Cray once more. He could feel her eyes staring holes through the back of his head and resisted the urge to shiver. The woman had that affect on him and he'd be damned if he knew why.

"It's not something you could mention in a meeting?" she snapped. "Mention that you have them, maybe so that others could get to them if need be?"

"I don't want them here," he growled, uncomfortable at the merest thought.

Shadow mumbled something that sounded distinctly like "Stubborn jackass, may you rot in hell," but he wasn't sure. "Okay, fine!" she snapped irritably, "I want to see the file on you then."

He swiveled his head in her direction, startled. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"I want to see the file you have on yourself." Shadow seemed to be leering at him. "I know you have one, Mr. Paranoid-Schizophrenic. If you go nutzo, I want to know how to take out your Bat-butt. Fair is fair."

His lips thinned and he continued to stare at her, his expression turning sullen. When she didn't seem to be intimidated by his expression he finally snapped out, "No."

Shadow got up and began to pace. "Let's see, we have a man who has information on how to take out every superhero in this universe, damned near, and he gets upset if someone wants to look at or, more probably, create a file on how to take said man out. But it's okay for said stubborn, hypocritical man to keep files on everyone else, is that it?" She rounded on him. She ticked off her points on her fingers one by one. "Bane, white Martians, the Joker, Two-Face, Poison Ivy, Ra's al whatever," Bruce's face tightened at the mention of Ghul, "Mr. Freeze, the crocodile guy..."

"Killer Croc," he supplied with a growl.

She ignored him, continuing her list. "...the idiot with all the hats, the moron with the puppet, the jerk with the flames shooting out from everywhere except his nose, and a host of other nut jobs and losers that make your own private cadre of hit men after your Bathide. They've spent their lives trying to rub you out, take you down. I think the only thing that will kill you is old age." She grinned suddenly. "Either that or a freak car accident. Anytime you die, I'm going to demand a body with complete DNA checks. I won't believe it till I see it."

She gave him a long and considering glance. "You just don't die. No one just 'takes out' the Batman. It don't happen. You are the only one in that group up there," she pointed skyward, undoubtedly meaning the JLA on their moon base, "who is without any extra, souped up defense or offense. You have no super strength, no fancy ring or hyperdrived body chemistry that speeds you up or stretches you like silly putty. You're not some god from a distant world or some fish-talking sea king with an ego about his importance the size of the ancient Roman Empire."

"Are you coming to your point soon?" Bruce asked impatiently.

She smiled ferally at him, bending down until her nose was almost brushing his nose. "You bleed."

Bruce's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?" he sputtered indignantly.

Shadow shrugged, straightening up and going back to her bench. "You bleed, just like me, just like Nightwing, just like Robin, just like Alfred. Probably the same color of red, too." Bruce stared at her in what he knew was a stupid manner. "So I want to know how you plan on having yourself taken out if you go whacko. Is it a sniper? Someone run you off the road and it's a car accident? You drown? What? How do you plan on taking yourself down?" She frowned at him, brown eyes darkening. "If I can be taken down, so can you. Show me my file and you'll be showing me yours at the same time."

Bruce growled something definitely not repeatable in polite society but acquiesced. As he turned away and began typing in passwords, funky codes and other cryptic things that made Shadow's head hurt, she marveled that she'd succeeded. She grinned inwardly. ShadowWing and Superman would drop dead on the spot if they knew.

"Sniper." He punched one more button and her file came up. On the left was a full body photo rotating around, showing her physique and costume from every angle.

Shadow was suddenly outraged again. "That's as imaginative as you could get?"

Bruce thumped his head on his hands in exasperation. "What did you want?" he finally exploded. "Some elaborate plan to roast you alive in the Mojave Desert?"

"Hmmm, tempting," Shadow mulled the suggestion over. "No, too risky. Someone might come along and let me go or something. The Apache are still thick down there." He groaned. "I mean, a sniper, come on! That's not how you have yourself taken down." A sudden thought made her gasp. "Is that how little of a threat you think I am?"

'I can't win', he thought in a haze. "Yes," he glowered, "now go away."

"Not until I see your file!"

Bruce hesitated. Should he? It would be good information to have out there, the possibility of him going out of his mind was there. Shadow could pull it off, he knew. She had a tough interior despite many people's thoughts to the contrary. Her upbringing reinforced the ideal to do what was necessary, no matter how painful.

Two more punches and a couple of mouse clicks brought up his file. He heard her intake of breath as she skimmed his observations about himself until she got down to the relevant part. She hissed. "Poison the costume?" He shrugged. After a long moment of silence, he risked a glance up at her and found her staring at him awe-struck. "I'd have never have thought of that," she mused.

He gave her a puzzled look. "It makes sense to you?" he asked, slightly amazed but unwilling to show it.

She nodded slowly. "Bruce Wayne has always been the mask, that's obvious. You've always been more comfortable inside the costume. A mad person is like a wounded wild animal. The first priority is to find safety. You would subconsciously seek out a costume because it's where you feel safest, gives you the stamina and drive to forge ahead. It refurbishes you. It may take time for you to get to the costume, but with your skills and know how, it would more than likely be eventually accomplished." She gave a long look in the direction of the changing area. "I assume they all are laced inside with a chemical that mixed with the change in your body chemistry when your brain goes off the deep end, will create a toxin that will soak into the skin, poisoning you." He nodded. "Very clever."

Floored by her easy acceptance of the plan, he merely mumbled, "Thanks." Unsure how else to proceed, Bruce got out of the file and went back to his botanical check that he'd been running before she had barged in. Inspired, he added, "Of course, a well-trained sniper would probably work too. As you pointed out, I do bleed the same as you."

He heard her footsteps and turned to see her walking away. "Leaving so soon?" he mocked lightly. "You just got here."

"I have a seminar in New York. Belle told me about your protocols on the flight. I about killed the stewardess and it wasn't even her fault. I'm on a charter plane so it diverted to Gotham first before heading to New York. Belle's sending her chopper after me instead, since I 'detoured' to the manor." She turned to give him a wry look.

"Shadow," Bruce began, feeling that maybe he should explain himself, though he didn't know why. He hadn't explained to anyone, including Nightwing, Oracle, Robin or Superman, despite their pleas and rantings for him to do so.

"There's one method you never considered to take me out, Bruce," Shadow murmured. "Something that would penetrate even the maddest mind, the most distorted soul."

Bruce tipped his head to one side. "What's that?" he asked.

She smiled at him sadly, as if pitying him for not knowing. "Heart break."

And she walked away.