A Flock of Sidekicks
By: Sierra Nelson
Chapter 1
**A WARNING BEFORE READING** Because of the concept idea behind my plot in the story, the age differences between the characters will have to be changed a bit, but I will stick to their original back stories as much as possible, because we all know the original is the best. If you have any issues with the age gaps between certain characters I do apologize ahead of time. Thank you for reading and please RR.
-Dick Grayson: Nightwing
I was running. I couldn't tell if I was fleeing or chasing, but I was definitely running. I couldn't tell where I was either. It wasn't dark though, like your stereotypical running dreams. It was bright, not sunny, but bright, Brightness from an artificial light. Very...bright. The echoes from my hasty steps were unfamiliar as well. It didn't sound like tile from a nice high end building, or concrete from a warehouse. I had no hints of where I was. Above all these confusing factors was what I was wearing, my suit. Not my black and blue Nightwing suit, but my Robin one. Good ol' classic boy wonder red, green, and yellow, but I wasn't a boy. Same age, just old suit. How on earth did that thing fit me?
Simple ringing stopped my running abruptly. I didn't wake up sweaty and gasping, but it wasn't a pleasant Sunday morning either. In fact, it was 1 a.m. Crime in Gotham was at a steady gas station robbery twice a week, so I actually got to be asleep at 1 a.m. I could see my Nightwing suit slung over the edge of the bed. No green, red or yellow. Why was I Robin? After pondering over this for a few moments I remembered why I was awake, the ringing. I looked over at the simple flip phone on the side table. Nothing, which meant whoever was calling, was calling for Nightwing, not Dick Grayson. I should've known, I don't have friends that are awake at 1 a.m. anyways. I grabbed the blue bird shaped phone from my utility belt. Got to stick to a theme. The name that showed worried me a bit. Oracle. Which meant Bruce needed help, which meant this was a very big deal. I answered the phone and a very interesting conversation began.
"Oracle."
"Dick."
"If you're going to use this phone you might as well use the right name" I smirked
"I apologize." She didn't giggle, no since of humor was on the other side of the phone.
"I'm assuming this isn't about a surprise birthday party for the old man is it?" Still trying to be witty, what can I say? It's in my nature.
"Dick. I can't find him" She was serious, and scared.
"What that supposed to mean? He's prone to disappearing; it's sort of his thing. Give him a day I'm sure he'll pop in for a hello."
"This is different. I've got nothing on him. No tracking GPS. No random bat symbol anywhere, no unexplainable gust of wind and a quick glimpse of a black cape. Nothing." She was almost frantic.
"Does your dad know anything? Have you talked to him?" I was suggesting anything to calm her down.
"Yes I have, and no he doesn't. Dick I thought of everything, but this is serious and I need your help. Come down to the Cave, I have something to show you."
"Alright I understand, I'm on my way." I was about to hang up and dash, but she wasn't done talking yet.
"Oh and, you're not the only one I called, so expect company." A pause.
"Who else did you call?"
"Just some...trustful and well trained friends."
-Jason Todd: Red Hood
Gang members are annoying. Annoying, dirty rats of the crime chain. They're like the ponds in chess. So. Freaking. Annoying, and here I was surround by a whole swarm of them. Blacks, Mexicans, Whites, even some Asians, all wearing different colors. They weren't even a well organized gang, just sloppy, bad attitudes with guns and no concept of grammar. I was just trying to enjoy some late night greasy pizza and they ambush me. No reason what so ever. Not that they normal do. People just don't like me. Now were in the middle of some street in a standoff, guns out. Mine was aimed for an unlucky head while theirs were aimed for the street, light post, a bush, ect. Amateurs. They were threatening me, I wasn't listening. I just wanted to shoot them and go back to my pizza.
"Ok, how about you boys go back to the "Crib" and Ill pretend this never happened, and everything will be fine." I suggested. It would be sad to waste bullets. A gun was fired and I heard a "ping" from the light post I was closest to. I shook my head and sent a bullet into the dumbasses left thigh. He buckled down holding his leg and gritting his teeth. Now they were focused, and the weapons were pointed more intently at me. Good. They were learning. I couldn't help but smile, they couldn't see it underneath my helmet anyways. The serious, fight to the finish mood was ruined by an unannounced ringing in the calf pocket of my cargo pants. Seriously? I held up a "hold on" finger and reached down for my phone. The rats looked confused but obeyed. Dumbasses. I slid the phone open and rested it between my head and shoulder so I could have better hold of the gun. Not that I needed it.
"Yello, Gotham's number one badass, how can I help you?"
"Hello Jason." I knew her voice all too well. I backed down my defense mode and held on to the phone. No one shot me. They were still confused I guess; poor creatures.
"Barbra? I'm going to go out on a limb and say you've dialed the wrong number" I haven't talked to anyone from the bat side of the crime ladder. Not since Bruce solved the big Red Hood mystery. Not that it was much of one.
"No Jason. I meant to call you."
"Why?"
"He's gone Jason. I need your help to find him"
"Why don't you have someone else do it? I'm probably the last person he wants to see. The fact that I'm still on the phone with you is surprising."
"Jason, I understand things are... rough between you two, but I know you still care about him, or at least respect him. He needs your help." I clinched my jaw, and wanted to hang up, but I didn't.
"Call someone else. What about that Terry guy? Mr. Fancy Bat suit." I wasn't really a fan of the guy
"He's...unavailable at the moment. Jason, please. If I didn't think your help was required I wouldn't have called you." She was started to get frustrated, I could tell.
"I'll think about it." I quickly hung up the phone and noticed my posse of sharpshooters was gone. Did they get tired of waiting on me? Then I caught a glace of my shadow being casted from some blue and red lights flashing behind me. I rolled my eyes in my helmet and raised both hands in the air.
"No crime done here boys, just a dented lamp post. Besides, I have knight to go rescue."
-Tim Drake: Red Robin
Stephanie and I rode in silence. She didn't move, just looked out the window, and ignored me completely. I tried to say hello when I picked her up at the ally we decided to meet at, but she just slammed my door and sat down. She didn't even look at me. Girls could hold grudges for the longest time. We pulled up at the mansion around 3 a.m. I parked in the circle drive way, and Stephanie got out before I even turned off the car. A black Dodge Tomahawk was parked a few feet away from me, the electric blue, candy coated, sharp edged wings painted on each side of its tank barley glowed in the night. I couldn't help but grin, I always did look up to him. Another sport bike was parked right next to his. It was jet black, but that's all I could tell about it. I didn't recognize whose it was.
Stephanie and I waited by the front door for Barbra to answer it. I missed Alfred. He wouldn't have even waited for us to knock. He would've just been there, opening the door and saying "Welcome Master Drake." and probably offering us some tea as he led us to the Cave. Bruce didn't have a memorial service for him. At least not a big one, he said Alfred didn't want it. It was too risky for those who knew who batman was. Barbra opened the door with a warm smile on her face. For someone who sounded so restless on the phone, she seemed cheery. I guess she was trying to be a good hostess. She looked restless though, dark circles hid underneath her glasses and her red hair was up in a messy bun.
"Hello Barbra." Stephanie said politely. Finally she talks. I greeted her as well and she returned it. We stalked through the mansion without conversation. No questions, no catching up, nothing. Ramps were added to the house so Barbra could get around it easily, and the door ways were bigger so her chair could fit comfortably past them. It was cold and dark. No lights were on, and nobody else was in the house. When we entered the cave, two heads looked up at us. One of them had shaggy black hair that framed his chin, he grinned at us and I recognized him instantly. Dick Grayson. The other one I assumed was the owner of the other black bike. She had slick raven black hair cut short and choppy. She worn an all black riding suit and her face was twisted into an attitude; Cassandra Cain.