The town of Glenville had never seen anything like the attack that had just taken place.

The Plasticorp plant had fallen in minutes to the forces of its former workers, led by the Nazi agents Black Assassin and Der Grosshorn Eule, along with numerous other local malcontents and Aryan sympathizers. Just as night fell, they had burst into the front gate of the plant and had taken control of it.

They were a varied army, but they were determined enough to have taken the plant with little resistance from the few guards that had been there, whom they had killed instantly.

High atop one of the plant's towers, the Black Assassin stood and surveyed their success.

"Excellent. The General will be very pleased with our success . . . "

A figure dressed in dark green and red who was standing with him responded. "Yes, Der Schwarzer Meuchelmörder. This is only the beginning!"

The black caped one was a little more apprehensive than the other two were used to seeing.

"I have to go down South for a while. There's something big going on down there that I've found out about . . . I've got to stop it. I may already be too late!"

"Do you need us to come with you, Batman?" Robin asked.

"No, I have to do this alone. If I go in there with guns blazing at all, the people behind this movement will just disappear into the woodwork again . . . it has to be just me this time."

"If you say so, Batman," Batwoman responded. "You need us to watch over Gotham while you are gone?"

"You two haven't let me down yet."

Robin tried to get inside his mentor's head. Whatever Batman was going to face sounded really dangerous. Even though the two of them had been gradually growing apart, with Robin wondering whether he even wanted to be Robin anymore, this did not dampen his ties to the Caped Crusader.

"If I don't make it back from Virginia, Robin . . . well, you and Alfred know what to do."

Robin and Batwoman thought about what they would do without Batman as he leapt off the rooftop, making his way down the fire escapes of the building, until he got to the Batmobile.

But there were the other two caped figures standing there, and the hero thought that maybe they were enough to protect Gotham. Maybe what he needed to do to prove himself was to follow Batman, wherever he was going, and help him, even though he had heard Batman plainly deny help.

The young hero had the resources to follow Batman down South. He had more than enough money to do all kinds of things . . . but what he wanted to do the most was to follow in the footsteps of the previous Azraels . . . and in the footsteps of Batman, as well.

He leapt down to the streets below and boarded a specially designed motorcycle. He soared down the streets of Gotham to the airfield where his private plane was stored.

The message indicator lit up on his control panel. He didn't really have time to write e-mails while he was flying, so he switched it over to voice mode. This way, everything he said would be translated into e-mail.

"Batman, this is Oracle. Where have you been?"

"You know damn well where I've been. You've even helped me fight the Manhunters . . . that's all I've been able to deal with lately."

"The attack in Virginia has already taken place! The Black Assassin's forces have already taken over a plastics plant!"

Batman felt a chill as the impact of the takeover occurred to him. The takeover had to be reversed, at the soonest possible moment, before the news media picked up the story. There were dozens of anti-government groups in the country, and if they caught wind of this attack, they might try something similar, just like terrorist attacks bred other terrorist attacks in other parts of the world . . .

Batman adjusted the Batwing's controls for full speed as he zoomed south toward Glenville, Virginia.

The young man leapt inside the sports car and sped off toward the Plasticorp plant.

But Batman only barely saw the soldier with the Stinger missile who had spotted him in the sky.

The Batwing's sensors alerted him to a missile having locked on. Batman had to jerk the controls to avoid the missal's full impact.

His wing had been clipped by the impact; he could manage a landing into one of the barren fields near the plant's empty parking lot.

The Batwing came down and skidded across the field. Batman was able to eject himself from the seat, but he was somewhat exhausted from the effort needed to land the plane. Thus, he was no match for the twelve armed men who were waiting for him.

They brought him to the Black Assassin's temporary headquarters within the plant.

He used the stealth training instilled by the Order to sneak through the barren fields around the plant toward one of the plant's side entrances.

Jean-Paul would have plenty of chances to prove he was worthy of the title of Azrael tonight.

Even though this particular group was a mix of seasoned and new recruits, they were determined to retake the plant. They were going to accomplish a two-fold attack that would begin in just a few minutes.

Lieutenant James Stanton gave the order for the airborne squad to start its phase of the mission. Hopefully they would fare well against what he thought were the relatively untrained forces of Plasticorp's captors.

Two Pave Hawk helicopter full of troops swooped down and hovered quietly over the plant. It took a few moments for the forces occupying the plant to notice their arrival, which was time enough for most of them to rappel down.

A few guards approached the rooftop, but they were quickly taken down by gunfire from the National Guard troops. As they made their way into the plant, many of the people who would have opposed them dropped their weapons. The former workers' anger had been satisfied by having taken the plant by force, but they did not want to die for it. Some of the National Guard soldiers even recognized friends among the temporary terrorists. This would be an easy victory for the National Guardsmen.

Batman was hog-tied; he could do nothing but squirm as he was slowly dangled over the steaming stream of chemicals. Matt Hagen, one of the most loyal and deadly criminals who had joined up for the attack on Plasticorp, relished each moment of dangling the hero over the chemicals. Matt knew how deadly the mixture was; before he lost his job a few years ago, he had been an operator in the plant, and had seen a few accidents that showed the deadly nature of the chemicals.

"We don't really need any information from you, Batman," the Black Assassin snickered. "Thus we have less need to keep torturing than if you were going to tell us something useful."

"Ja," Der Grosshorn Eule added. "We're simply dangling you here for our own pleasure."

"Sir!" one of the soldiers cried out. "The National Guard is here! The plant has been breached! National Guard troops are making their way down into the plant!"

"If only the General had gotten me those reinforcements sooner . . . " The Black Assassin cocked his vintage machine gun and ran out into the factory hallway. Some of his soldiers were running away after having heard that the National Guard was on the offensive.

"Get back here, you cowards!" The Black Assassin was frustrated. "I wish I could have stayed here to enjoy watching you die, Batman . . . but I'll just have to have Der Grosshorn Eule tell me about it later. Goodbye, Batman. Heil Hitler!"

The Black Assassin rushed down the catwalk to gather his forces together.

Batman was still struggling to get out of the ropes in which he had been tied, but there was nowhere for him to go but down if he got out of them.

At that moment, Azrael struck. He brought his gauntleted fist full into Matt Hagen's face, and the momentum sent Hagen careening headlong into the chemical mixture. Azrael yanked the rope back up from its precipitous place and lowered Batman to the catwalk floor.

Der Grosshorn Eule was flabbergasted by what had just happened.

"Wer sind Sie?" he asked.

"Azrael, Nazi schweinhund," the young hero replied as he cut Batman's ropes to free him. Batman had managed to get out of his bindings and he too stood facing the Nazi villain.

"It was almost a shame that we were going to kill you so quickly, Batman," Der Grosshorn Eule said boldly. "I've been waiting to test my skills against yours, Batman. I'll get rid of your new friend, too!"

"Go after the Black Assassin, Azrael. I will handle Der Grosshorn Eule."

Azrael launched himself past Der Grosshorn Eule and took off for the plant exit, towards which he had seen the Black Assassin racing.

The Black Assassin had an idea. If his forces could not have the Plasticorp plant, then maybe nobody could. He pulled a small charge of C4 from the satchel that he had carried with him for years. He was getting ready to attach it to the door of the plant when small sharp blades began to rain over him. He ducked away in time to catch only a glancing blow from them.

"Stop right there, Nazi!" Azrael leapt out from the shadows.

The Black Assassin quickly pulled a gas bomb from his pouch and threw it at Azrael. He used the gas cover to sprint for his motorcycle.

As the Assassin got on board his motorcycle, he could see that up the road three tanks and three APC's full of reinforcements were coming to stop them. He revved the cycle up and rode into the barren fields.

But Der Grosshorn Eule still had a lot of fight left in him. He rolled Batman over on to his back, and then tried to shove him over the side of the catwalk into the chemical mixture below. Batman kicked him full force in the chest, and then flipped the villain into the concrete wall. The Nazi passed out instantly.

Batman stepped over to his prone form and checked the villain's pulse.

Der Grosshorn Eule was alive, which was probably more than he deserved. Batman wanted to make sure that the Black Assassin was captured, and then he would come back to question the other Nazi.

A group of soldiers clambered up to the catwalk.

"You're the Avengers Leaguer called Batman, aren't you?" the squad captain asked. "Thank you for helping us."

"I need your help," Batman asked the captain. "I need to catch the other architect of this attack."

"No problem. Follow us."

"Vas?"

"You're not getting away this time, Nazi!" Azrael prepared to cut the tires of the motorcycle with his flaming sword.

Black Assassin pulled a Luger pistol from his tunic and fired four shots into Azrael at the closest range possible.

Azrael's armor absorbed the shots, but it was enough to distract him and to make him let go. He rolled into the ditch, as his Jaguar continued zooming off into the fields.

The Black Assassin sped away as Azrael cut the engine to the Jaguar with a remote control switch in his gauntlet.

He was trying to get up when Batman rode up in one of the National Guard's jeeps.

"Young man, I saw what you did in there. You're very brave."

"He escaped!"

"We'll track the Black Assassin down someday. For now, we have his accomplice, at least."

"Your Batwing is damaged . . . I can arrange transportation for you back to Gotham.."

"I have other ways of getting back."

Batman saw Azrael get to his feet, looking every bit the part of the warrior knight.

"Meet me in two days, on top of the old Speedy Sewing Machines plant, in Gotham, at midnight. We'll discuss your future as a crimefighter."

Azrael was awash in admiration and gratitude for Batman, but he was happy that these emotions did not show through his armor.

The Black Assassin dialed up a secret connection and the darkened figure of the General appeared.

"So, Assassin, I see that you have failed. I sent you all of those men and weapons and you were not able to hold that plant. We also lost Der Grosshorn Eule to the American authorities . . . he knows what to do if they ask him to talk, however."

The General cleared his throat. He was not as angry as Black Assassin thought he would be.

"I know well of the power and cleverness of the American military. Perhaps they outclassed you."

"The National Guard had help, General. From that hero, the Batman, who interrupted our meeting in Monaco, and from a new hero."

The General grew quiet.

The Black Assassin spoke up. "We did take the plant, General. And some of the men we gathered did escape. They will bring word of our cause to other Nazi sympathizers throughout the country . . . "

"Perhaps they will. Black Assassin, I want you to coordinate our next effort in America. We will be ready for the Batman, and his allies, next time. I will secure a significant contingent of troops for you, along with more of our superpowered agents. You will not fail next time!"

But the watchful eyes of the soldiers failed to notice a hand suddenly extend itself from one of the vats . . . a brown, formless hand, almost as if it had been made out of clay . . .