Part 1 The Swingin' Singin' Wing.
Nightwing looked out over the harbor and docks. He saw several large cargo ships under the light of the moon.
-Back at the turn of the century, this harbor used to bustle with life.
-Goods came in from around the world.
-Silks from Arabia, tea from China, even china from England.
-Nowadays not much comes in to this smaller port. Most cargo ships go north to Gotham, things that do come into the Haven arrive by truck and to a smaller extent by rail.
-Yet some cargo still sees its way to this small port, cargo this city can do without.
Nightwing stared at the ship below him, containing many crates on deck, from the warehouse rooftop. A man with a patch over his eye and a black longshoreman's jacket smoked a pipe on the deck of the boat.
-This ship comes out of Santa Prisca. A small island in the Caribbean whose gross national product is earned on the revenues of gambling, arms sales, offshore banking (with secret accounts so that criminals can safely hide their revenue) prostitution of minors and drugs.
-It is the latter that brings me here tonight.
-Got a tip off from one of the bugs I have planted at the headquarters El Speedy Gonzoes biker gang.
-The dockyard is pretty busy during the day so the bikers probably decided to wait until nightfall to make the pickup. Either that or the bikers don't wake until nightfall anyway. The ship arrived earlier today, and some of the goods were unloaded. Most of the crew have probably left to spend their time on shore in some of Bludhaven's more seedy establishments.
Nightwing looked through a pair of binoculars.
-Only one guy on the deck and no visible arms.
In the distance Nightwing could see several individual headlights approaching the wharf. He looked to see several tough looking bikers pull into the yard, a large cargo truck followed them.
-And here come El Speedy Gonzoes roaring in on their thunder machines. Way to be subtle guys.
Nightwing tilted what seemed to be a miniature satellite dish and a small camcorder set up on a mini tripod in their direction.
-Hope that their engine noise doesn't cause too much interference for my audio scope. The same kind that they use at sporting events to hear player and referee comments, with it I can hear and record every part of the transaction, which is combined with the this telephoto video for the perfect evidence tape. Perfectly admissible amateur video, like was used in the Rodney King case.
The bikers approached the man on deck. They spoke a few words then the man began pointing to several of the large grates that were on the boats deck.
-Great they're speaking Spanish, I'm out of my depth here. I pick up two, or three words.
The bikers began carrying the large boxes off the ship, two bikers to a crate.
Nightwing looked at the amount of crates being loaded into the truck.
-If that is drugs that is a lot of drugs.
-Now if this were Gotham I'd call this in to one of the police detectives to set the ball rolling, here in the Haven I could count on my fingers the number of honest cops I know and not one of them I can call upon for something like this. For years I was used to having backup, the Titans, Batman.
-It's so ingrained in me it's usually the first thing I think about.
Nightwing swung down into the bikers, kicking two of them out unconscious as he landed.
-The next thing I think about is how many more bad guys I get to have to myself.
"Sorry guys my Spanish is a little rusty so bear with me."
-It's nice not having to share the pie.
"unus." He kicked one of them in the jaw sending him flying into another who was carrying a crate.
"does." The crate landed on top of both of them.
One of the gang members heaved a large crate at Nightwing.
Nightwing dived out of the way. The crate hit a gang member behind him. "uns."
The gang member went flying backwards he and the crate crashed into three of his compatriots. " does, tres, quarto. "
Nightwing launched himself into another group of bikers. "Wooly Bully, watch it now, he get ya."
Nightwing looked over the small gang of unconscious crooks.
He placed the video camera on top of one of the crates filled with drugs.
-I can't hand over the videotape with the evidence it contains personally. But if I leave the whole camera here, it becomes evidence.
Nightwing turned to see someone duck their one of the large crates sitting still on the boat. "I see you seek to hide, but you can't hide your hide from me."
"Hidy hoo neigh-" Nightwing peeked his inside the box, surprised to see a boy huddle himself into the corner of it.
-Boy, they recruit them young these days.
-The kid yells something in Spanish.
Nightwing beckoned him with his hands to come out of the box.
The boy climbed over the edge of the crate. As soon as he was over the other side he attempted to run.
Nightwing grabbed him by the arm to prevent his escape. "Oh no you don't amigo."
-This kid is thin. Feels like just skin and bone.
-The kid started saying a lot of things in Spanish that I didn't understand.
Nightwing waved his hands at the boy gesturing for him to stop speaking. "Wait, no comprende. My god you're so thin. "
Nightwing shook his head and stared at the boy confused.
-Then one thing in English that I did.
The boy pointed at the ground and asked, "America?"
Nightwing nodded his head and pointed to the ground. "Yes, si America. This is America."
-Strange that I would say English. America seems to mean the same thing in any language.
"America freedom." The boy smiled and his eyes began to well up with tears.
Nightwing looked toward the members of the motorcycle gang lying unconscious on the ground
-Yes, America freedom. Except for these mutts who were bond for jail.
"C'mon kid we gotta get out of here." Nightwing grabbed the boy by the hand and led him off the Santa Priscian ship. I've already placed a call to the feds. Soon this shipyard will be swarming with police.
-I could have left him the boy for the feds but the first thing this boy needed was a good meal, after laying in that crate for weeks, sneaking out in the night to scrounge for whatever he could find to eat.
Nightwing drove in his car with the boy. Nightwing pointed at himself. "Senor Nightwing, comprende?"
-Great, that means Mr. Nightwing, doesn't it?
He hit a button on the dashboard and a small computer screen built into it flicked on. "Oracle you there I could use your help on this one."
Oracles face appeared on the video screen. "Hey what's up?"
"I got this kid here, he was stowed away on a vessel that just came in from Santa Prisca. He's scrawny and he smells and he doesn't know any English."
"You mean you don't speak any Spanish."
"That too."
-Babs talks to the boy in halted Spanish. I find out that his name is Jesus, he spent 3 weeks aboard that rat infested cargo ship, and was glad for them. At least he has something to eat.
-He can't read or write, he's been working as long as he can remember as a slave on some drug plantation. Yeah that's right slave. America freedom, indeed.
-He is clearly overjoyed to be here. His eyes stare at the rotting and corrupt city of Bludhaven as if it were one of the most wondrous, joyful cities on earth.
Oracle looked away from the screen. "Whoa trouble Nightwing, that's the Canary, gotta go. Adios Jesus."
"Adios." Jesus replied. The screen went black
"I guess Mexican fast food is ok by you." Nightwing pulled his car up to the drive through.
Jesus stared at the drive though menu board anxiously.
"I don't suppose there's anything in particular that you want. Burritos, tacos, tortillas."
"American chili corn hot dog!"
-Great the American contribution to the world of fine cuisine; beats the English I guess.
As he drove, Nightwing watched Jesus rip into another hotdog, chewing it down rapidly.
"Gracias, muchos gracias."
"Slow down Jesus. Your stomach isn't used to so much food. You're going to get…" Nightwing looked over to see Jesus turn a pale green. Jesus bent over and vomited on the floor of the car.
"Sick." Nightwing continued
Nightwing grabbed a blanket from the back seat and threw it on the passenger side floor.
Jesus looked up embarrassed then grabbed another hotdog.
"Slow this time bud." Nightwing smiled over at him.
Dick drove staring strait ahead. Jesus pointed at him. "Rock star music?"
"Music? I know I pick up all the police bands but I've never actually listened to regular radio in this thing, just me try to see if I can't tune in a station."
Nightwing switched on the car radio. "This is car 57 here at the Bludhaven west pier."
-Damn that's Sheriff's unit, Sheriff is just his nickname. On his badge it reads Officer Nottingham. Appropriate, he's as dirty a cop as they come.
"The D.E.A. is here now. We've handed the two crates of marijuana we found here over into their custody." The voice came from the radio.
-Two crates? Damn, Sheriff must have arrived on the scene before the Feds and absconded with most of the evidence. That's probably why I never listen to the regular radio in this thing.
-The work I had done earlier this evening had all been in vain. Now I'm not the obsessive type. But I put a lot of time and effort into this case. I'd done the detective work, timed everything perfectly so that they'd be caught with a mountain of evidence to put them away for a long time. If I didn't want this whole episode to be a waste of my time I had no time to waste. I needed to find out where the drugs were being transported to before they were broken up and distributed, scattered through the multitude of dealers in the city.
-There was one place where I could pick up new leads on the drugs location. And I had no choice but to take Jesus along with me.
Nightwing drove up to the gang's bar hangout.
Nightwing parked the car in the parking lot of the place adjacent to the clubhouse. He hit a button on the dashboard and new voices displaced the ones coming over the police band. They spoke in Spanish.
Jesus listened to the voices intently.
A group of men stood before a rack of motorcycles at the entrance.
-I sit tight in the car with Jesus. I let little dish eves drop for me. Just underneath the Spanish I hear something."
A biker from the group talked frantically with an unseen figure around the corner of the building.
"…of the stuff, couldn't take everything though, there's still a coupla crates of marijuana. It's enough so that a few of the guys will be doing some time."
"It could have been a lot worse if they were nailed with the smack and the blow, and stuff," said the unseen figure.
"A lot worse for us too, a few crates of Mary Jane we can afford to lose."
"We've got everything now in case the feds come back again with a warrant which they're bond to do. You can keep these animals of yours in line until then."
" These guys? The really tough animals are the ones who got caught tonight and are sitting in that lousy police cell. Man, they don't know nothing but what I tell em anyway."
-Perfect, I just need to trail that guy in the shadows find out where he's…
Jesus suddenly opened the door and hopped out, running up to the bikers he had been listening to.
"Wait Jesus. Crazy stupid kid."
Nightwing got out of car and began to chase after Jesus.
Jesus talked with the bikers in Spanish.
Nightwing approached the area, hiding behind a car. Jesus looked up and pointed at Nightwing.
All the bikers looked at him bewildered, and then suddenly they begin to laugh.
-Way to strike fear into the hearts of men Dick.
"That's one funky outfit man." One of the bikers smiled at Nightwing.
"er thanks..."
-What the hell?
"Most of the earlier auditions sucked, so you've got a pretty good chance." Carlos smiled.
"Um auditions?"
"Did you bring your own axe?" Carlos led Nightwing into the bar.
"An axe, no."
"Chico will get you one. Plug in and start any time you're ready."
Nightwing bent down to Jesus and whispered futilely. "Jesus, what is this about?"
-Then I understood as Chico came toward me, swinging an "axe" in my direction.
A large man handed Nightwing a guitar.
-Jesus thought I was a rock star because of the outfit I'd been wearing. When he heard them talking in Spanish about an audition, he must have figured that's why I came here in the first place. Because of Jesus I had to play this cool. I mean we were in a bar filled with bikers
Nightwing stood, guitar in hand, on the small stage surround by the seedy bar patrons.
"Well you gonna start already?" said Carlos impatiently.
-You know it's strange; guys like this normally don't scare me. I could take on these guys for breakfast, as outnumbered as I was. I wouldn't even break a sweat doing it. But the prospect of having to play guitar in front of them sent a cold chill down my back.
Nightwing stared at the guitar helplessly.
-Maybe I wouldn't be as scared, if I just knew how to play the guitar.
The bar doors burst open and a group of men burst in with weapons drawn. One of them displayed his badge and spoke. "Everybody freeze this is the D.E.A. we have a warrant to search the premises."
-Saved!
The trench coated D.E.A. officer looked over toward Nightwing. "What the hell is this?"
"er… I'm a rock star."
The fed pointed past Nightwing to Jesus. "How old is this kid. What? You letting in minors?"
"Um he's my brother, my half brother, he's just here with me for the audition."
"Audition huh? Play something for me then."
-Not saved.
"Play?"
The D.E.A. agent just stared back at him.
Nightwing strummed the guitar, it emitted an off tune note. The D.E.A. agent, and the bar patrons cringed in response.
-For years I was a circus performer. Sometimes you knew from the audience reactions that the show wasn't going over so well. I'm still keen enough to an audience to know that my act is dying and that my act would be found out…
Nightwing stuck out his tongue as far as it could go, and struck a rock star pose. He twirled his hand across the strings.
-Unless I started to act like a rock star.
Nightwing strummed random notes as he duck walked across the small stage, Chuck Berry style.
-Rock and stroll.
"Ok, that's enough." The agent waved him off. "All right men lets check the grounds." He exited through a side door.
Carlos slapped Nightwing on the back. "Hey buddy great job dissin that G-man like that. You're in."
"Senior Nightwing." Jesus called from a nearby table.
"Hey, ain't there this masked vigilante hombre named Nightwing?" Chico looked at Nightwing suspiciously.
-You can't afford to blow this, not with the kid here.
"Nightwing is the name of my band." Nightwing smiled good-naturedly.
Carlos spoke in Spanish. "Chico, this Nightwing beat up Paco and Mel, do you think such a scrawny little man could do such a thing." He motioned to Nightwing.
The big man nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, I suppose…"
"Senor Nightwing." Jesus called out again pointing at him.
"I thought Nightwing was the name of your group?" The big man questioned again.
"Um yeah, that's it sorta, I'm Nightwing, and my group is called the Paul McCartney's. We're Nightwing and the McCartney's."
"Hey yeah. That's a good name."
"It is?"
"Yeah, we'll put McCartney on the bill in large letters to draw in the suckers. We'll make a killing. Come by the club tomorrow and bring your own axe."
Nightwing turned away from them.
-Thanks, but the next time I come by I'll have a different type of axe to grind.
Jesus talked to a group of men seated at one of the tables in the bar.
Nightwing walked off the small stage area and approached the table. He stared at one of the men.
-Hey I recognize that guy. He works as a mechanic in the cop shop garage.
-What the heck is he doing in a place like this? Nothing good I bet.
Jesus motioned to Nightwing as he approached the table.
"Senor Nightwing? Jesus has told us about you." He gestured to an empty chair. "How you found him by the docks."
-I read into his words, does he know I'm that Nightwing?
-Part of me, the protect the innocent part, wants to just grab Jesus and get the hell out of there before my cover is blown, and all hell breaks loose.
-Another part, the curious, adventurous detective part, wants to find out more.
Nightwing sat down at the bar table, the cop mechanic set an empty glass in front of Nightwing and prepared to fill it with a pitcher of beer. "Down where I work I hear a lot about this other character named Nightwing, he does not play the guitar however."
-What is he driving at? One way to find out.
"I'm driving." Nightwing placed his hand over the glass. "Where do you work?"
-First rule of interviewing potential suspects. Ask questions you already know the answers to and see if they lie.
Pablo smiled. "You're probably not going to believe this, but I work at the cop shop. I'm the head mechanic there. I hear a lot of stories about this masked vigilante named Nightwing and I wondered why he was playing guitar here."
-Boy, I wonder that myself.
"What I wonder is what the heck is an honest workingman is doing among this crowd." He gestured to the seedy looking bunch who frequented the establishment.
"Are you kidding senor Nightwing? Me, Miguel and Angelo get a lot of side jobs working on and customizing this crowds bikes. It's good money."
"Miguel and Angelo, are they mechanics too?"
"Miguel and Angelo are very good. They are not just mechanics they are artists."
Nightwing parked his car in front of the Bludhaven Customs and Immigration office.
Nightwing handed Jesus an envelope. "Now you give this to whoever's at the front desk. You understand."
-I'd take him home with me but unfortunately I'm not a rock star. I have an identity to protect.
"That note explains everything, or almost everything." Nightwing looked at Jesus apologetically.
"Those people in there will give you a bed to sleep in and give you a home here in America." He motioned to the immigration building.
"America home?"
"That right Jesus, go in there and I promise America will be your home."
Jesus flung his arms around Nightwing's neck. "Muchos gracias senor Nightwing."
-I watched him enter the building, and with the evening bizarre events behind me, I realized how tired I was. I figured I'd get a good night rest in the morning take care of figuring out where the drugs were being kept until the buy and checking up on Jesus.
-Actually the evening's events weren't all that weird, considering what happened the next day.
End of Part 1
Magnus Parvus