A/N: So this here is a fic mainly inspired by thenpainting mentioned by Lex Luthor in BvS: orginally an engraving by Gustave Doré's The Fal of the Rebel Angels, I use it as a starting point to explore the world surrounding our beloved heroes, especially our al time favourite Nightwing.
Enjoy! I'll be posting the first two chapters, so comment to let me know it goes!
CHAPTER 1
She stared up at the painting, focusing on the light that fell upon the angel's back and the rays that shimmered down against the falling angels below, bodies entangled and wings stretched. It spoke good versus evil, light versus dark, God versus Man. Her eyes studied the angel that had a sword in hand, driving away the condemned soldiers of God, their bodies falling from heaven towards the earth like a waterfall. It wasn't merciful - it was war and destruction painted in the most grotesque colours, contrasting with the light that came from heaven, all golden and ethereal. There was something about this painting that she loved. Not only was it the beauty of the brush strokes or its soft and pastel touch - the chiaroscuro was wonderfully done. The shadows from the angels below can be immediately turned upside down - so that the light from heaven seems like the cracking earth - and the falling angels appearing like demons rising in the sky. Nicole was glad that she got to see Luthor's private collection. This was the one painting of his she's got to see, despite the fact she's not an entirely big fan of LexCorp's shady business or its CEO Lex Luthor himself. He did a fantastic job however of making it his prized possession, certainly knowing how to make it look grand and expensive with two spotlights against its surface where it's hanged upon a red velvet wall. To express its grandeur - it even has its own separate showing room. She stood before the massive painting in the middle of the dimly lit room, so quiet a pin drop can be heard.
Which is why it was impossible for her to not hear the man she didn't notice stand next to her.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, a deep and masculine voice.
Nicole was startled, though she refrained from letting out a gasp, and turned her head towards the man who spoke.
"Uh - yes." She finally managed to say, looking beside her. She studied him, a sliver of light lighting up the left side of his face, his profile only visible but his charming smirk evident, a defined nose and a pair of deep blue eyes which Nicole knew would take a woman's by her knees. "Yes, it's a masterpiece. The Fall of the Rebel Angels by-"
"Gustave Doré." he finished. He turned his head towards me and flashed me a smile. "I'm not an expert, but I know a thing or two about art history." Well dressed in a tuxedo fixed up with a bowtie, he dressed and postured as if he was one of those rich kids. But there was something else about him - something that didn't care about wealth or reputation - instead she saw a playful glint in his eyes. Like what you would see in a child.
She smiled and looked away from his gaze, hoping he wouldn't notice her timid nature. She's become denial about romance - what good will it do? Besides, the reason why she's here is to just enjoy a good piece of painting. He spoke again, and somehow Nicole just wanted him to keep his mouth shut, like how you want to lock away a guilty conscience.
"British, huh? What brings you all the way here to Gotham City?" he asked, and shrugged. "It's not like it's the most appealing city in the East Coast. What with the robberies, hold-ups, crime and more crime - I don't see why-"
"Did I do something to you?" Nicole remarked, giving a slight laugh to make sure he knew it was a harmless joke.
The man grinned, an assurance that he took no offence. "I'm just saying lady - Gotham doesn't seem like the typical tourist spot."
"I've been living in Metropolis for around 2 years now. I come to Gotham once in awhile - and trust me I can be street-smart. The east London neighbourhood doesn't take things too kindly, exactly the same way as this city does." Nicole never understood herself why she moved away from home. In fact, moved away from London when she was 18 and got an offer from Oxford University to study Biochemistry. Seeming hesitant at first to study in such a nationally prestigious school, she admits that settling in was difficult but being far away from such a dull life made her enjoy. So throughout her life, she took on people of many sorts; from the harassing alcoholics in the streets and messy pub fights to the rich snobs who tried to humiliate her and the much smarter students who challenged her intelligence. There was no-one she wasn't used to already.
"So I take it you're tough. One of those delicate on the outside, rock hard on the inside sort of gal, aren't you?" he said, with a slight nudge of his elbow on her arm.
Nicole smiled tucking a strand behind her ear, taking a peek at the boy beside her. "Well if you put it that way… Sure." She could feel his eyes on her, even as she faces the painting studying the cracked lines of the drying oil paint as it withered through time - trying to distract herself from the idea of him watching her intently. Maybe introducing ourselves will be a good idea to break some ice. She held out her hand, the loose bangles on her wrist making a melodic chime that reverberated throughout the room.
"Nicole Lago." he took her hand and shook it gently. "Who are you?"
"Dick Grayson."
"Don't blow your cover, Birdwatcher."
Sometimes having someone speak to you in your ear can often feel like your own brain animately speaking instructions aloud, telling you that it's your time to talk, eat, walk. You almost feel like you could be one of those mad men in Arkham Asylum. Oh the people you could meet in that loon-town. What's even worse is having Bruce Wayne speak into your ear. He's like the super-ego to your id. A Jiminey Cricket. Your damn conscience always being the better than you.
"Relax, Mr. Malone. I got this. Don't you remember the countless of times you've brought me into these hell holes?" Dick replied. He didn't have to worry too much about his voice being too loud. It was already covered by the buzz of clinking wine glasses, the chatter of the rich folk, and the awful sound of Mozart. Not that Mozart was awful. But Mozart in a party is a no-no. He wove his way through the crowds of elegantly dressed people, friends of friends of friends of Lex Luthor's friends. So many that he probably had too many invitations printed out, and just invited random high-profile elites; the Prime Minister of Austria to the Mayor of Gotham himself.
"Focus." he heard Bruce say through the receiver, a tone of warning in his voice.
"What are we actually looking for here?" He continued to walk through an endless number of rooms, some still containing the few socialites and others empty and filled with trophies, heads of stags hung high and below them the rifle used to hunt them down. Anything to feed Luthor's ego.
"A package. All my sources call it the Carrier - meant to have some kind of radiation coming off of it. Right now my tracker gives us nothing."
"So we're looking for a box wrapped in brown paper and string? What is this Carrier? A nuclear weapon?"
"I don't know. Just keep going down this corridor. I think you're close - there's a room on the left that shows a lot of it in my reciever."
Dick sighed. "You know when you admit defeat you still manage to look like you've not been defeated? That's really annoying."
He walked down the corridor just as Bruce told him to do, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling, engravings of planets, solar systems and galaxies on marbled ceiling. The chatter died down behind him as he walked on further. There was a pair of mahogany doors at the left side of the corridor, one open and one closed, both at least three times his height and it had more engravings of constellations and what Dick recognised to be..."Planet Krypton? What is it with his obsession with the aliens, man?"
"It's behind this door, Birdwatcher."
"Copy." He readjusted his bowtie and stood at the entrance of the open door. The room was huge, almost the size of a football field and showcasing this one painting. A painting with angels in them. And stood before it was a girl who was looking up at the painting, the silhouette of her figure only visible.
"You're telling me the package is the painting? How am I meant to carry that around - it's like 10 feet tall." he whispered.
"No… that painting is too farther up the room. There's no radiation signals coming near the wall where it should be. It's directly coming from the middle."
Dick furrowed his brows and sighed in aggravation, "It's a fucking girl, Mr. Malone. She's the Carrier."
Nicole fished through her bag, for the keys to her apartment. It took about an hour and a half to get from Gotham back to Metropolis by car, with the ferry from Metropolis Docks being the shortest route. It was just past midnight, and she took longer than expected at Lex's party.
A friend from biotech labs convinced her to go as a plus one. Marjorie was far from being an actual friend, and so Nicole would rather class her as an acquaintance. Ever since she moved from England, she's never had a chance to make real friends. In fact - friends back home rarely do contact her anymore. Being alone was never really a problem for Nicole anyway, it was just what she preferred most of the time. Which is why she never understood why Marjorie asked her to be her plus one. And upon asking how she even came to know a multimillionaire tycoon, Nicole was only given wiggling eyebrows, and a wink followed by a nudge, and so she can only assume they had some one night stand. Turns out Marjorie's going to end up ditching her anyway for her boyfriend that just came back to town and surprise, surprise - you can't invite your boyfriend as a plus one to a guy's party that you cheated on him with. Nicole didn't favour complications, but seeing how she really wanted to get out and do something in her spare time - apart from focusing on her research - why not just go to Lex Luthor's party? She even got to meet the host, a shake of a hand, a compliment there and a smile.
"You do look lovely tonight Miss Lago - I'm not sure why Marjorie hasn't introduced us before." Lex said, a wine glass in hand and an intense gaze that made her feel a bit uncomfortable.
Of course even the dress was borrowed from Marjorie - and it was too extravagant than what she would usually go for. Gold, strapless and one that hugged her waist, a cut along the length of the dress teasing a bit of skin from her right leg. She swore to herself that she would never agree to go to such parties again. Nicole just wasn't made up for fancy talk and socialising with one hundred people at once. Which is how she came to find Lex's private collection of art art. She loved art - no matter how she was a scientist, she was also a painter. The feel of control when using a paintbrush, but at the same time the frustration knowing that you will never come to love your own masterpiece.
Remembering now Gustave Dore's painting, she imagined how much frustration and anger went into the piece. And that boy - Dick Grayson his name was. Their conversation was short, he must've remembered something important or he needed to get back to the party as he left in a rush just after they introduced themselves to each other. She wasn't going to lie to herself - she hoped it didn't just end there - though reality tends to kick in, and after a while Nicole didn't care much about it anyway. Gritting her teeth in annoyance, she shoved her hands in her pocket giving up looking for her keys in her bag. Her frustration died as she felt the keyring of her keys and slipped her finger through. She brought it up to unlock her door, noticing a ripped piece of paper wedged between her Winnie the Pooh keychain and her several other keys. Taking it with two of her fingers, she squinted at the note scrawled in blue pen. Except there wasn't anything interesting about it to read, other than a set of numbers - possibly a phone number.
Wait - a phone number? She smiled to herself, getting giddy at the thought of who it might be. Just when she thought she didn't care. She shoved the tiny piece of paper back in her pocket for safe keeping and entered her apartment. Apartment number 520 wasn't as shabby as it had been 2 years ago. When she first moved here the place was a mess; peeling plaster with creaking floorboards and the smell of stale mould in the air. Since then she managed to keep the place well maintained with a touch of her preference of decor, a minimalist style that's suitable for a lazy sod like Nicole who finds cleaning up to be a chore, but also one to be a gift to even have the time to do.
As she entered she reached for the light switch, pressing it once. The lights didn't come on. Probably busted. It's quite chilly in here too, there must be a draught somewhere - and that's where she saw it. The open window, the lace curtains flowing gently in the wind. Panic rose, and she immediately grabbed her phone from her bag and fumbled on its screen as she tried to get its torch light open. She rushed to the open window and shut it. Maybe she forgot to close it before she left, that's all. But then that gives time for cat-burglars to come in and steal. Her mind began racing through to what she could have left here at home that's couldn't help but blurt out a combination of curses; Niki you idiotic fucker. Balls. For fuck's sake. She almost didn't hear the muffled sound of footsteps against carpeted floor in the corner at the other side of the room. But she did hear it, and now she can't just ignore it. Her heart was beating so fast that it could emerge out of her chest from any second.
"I know you're there." she called out, mustering the confidence in her voice. Somehow the sliver of moonlight that sliced across the living room made her feel safe, a make-believe barrier of protection. "Give back what you stole before I call the police." No response. Or there could just be no-one there and she was just hearing things. But someone was there. Shallow breathing. The sound of cloth rubbing together. She heard a footstep again, this time much louder and the sound getting closer as she figured they started to walk towards her.
"There's no need for that."
It was a man, and as he stepped into the light from the shadows in the corner of the room, she caught a glimpse of his face. Except… she couldn't even identify him because he was wearing a mask, a black and blue suit that was skin-tight against rippling muscles. It's not everyday a burglar can be physically well-built. There was a scent in the air, catching a whiff of cologne - a smell that she recognises.
"I didn't even take anything." he took another step closer, causing Nicole to back away.
"Don't even think about coming close to me." she said with her phone in hand, ready to throw. He dared himself, taking one more step into the moonlight and only an arm's width away, as he challenged her. This time his masked face wasn't hidden in the shadows anymore. He had his hands up in the air, as if in surrender, which then slowly reclined to the back of his head. Spending her childhood in a rough east London neighbourhood - Nicole was fast too. Quick on her wit. Better yet - she can anticipate things. In the same way she's anticipated the fact that the man before her who had a smirk plastered on his face that almost seemed too frighteningly familiar, is about to reach for something behind him. She doesn't know what but just knows he will. Just as he was bringing his arms back up, Nicole without hesitation threw her phone horizontally, aiming for the criminal's forehead. He threw his head back in pain and his hand flew up to touch the sore spot, stunned at the impact and sudden throw.
Although things were happening quick and sweet, a second after the throw, he recovered. Nicole was midway in a right-hook punch to his face when he blocked it with his forearm. A left-hook blow and then another block of a forearm.
"Wait! Listen to me for a sec will you?" he shouted, feeling the force of her hooks dissipate as pain in his arms. It's evident now that this girl knows a few tricks in hand-to-hand combat.
"Burglary and foul-play? That's not a good case you got there, sir." A roundhouse-kick to his side, and he took the blow. He's not fighting back. She wants him to at least retaliate. "If you want to play in my house-" he dodged her upcoming jab, " -you play by my rules." She was ready and stanced, her hands up in fists up close to her chest. He flashed a grin towards her, unaffected yet still in the slightest bit amazed at her sudden feistiness.
"Alright - if you say so." he replied, a playful tone in his voice. He lunged at her with a high kick, but she swiftly dodged and ducked and quickly grabbed his leg from beneath, using his momentum to topple him over. He fell forwards, atop the wooden coffee table with extra force that Nicole didn't actually hope for. She took a few steps back as she heard the sound of the coffee table ripping right in the middle and watched the man before her groaning in pain and holding on to his side. Great. Her coffee table's broken.
He stood up slowly, his hair slightly dishevelled but that annoying smile still plastered to his face. "That's the best you can do, huh?"
Nicole had enough of playing around. She was fluid in her movement, even after years of not using her skill, her body still seemed to remember muscle control and the right momentum for strength. The only problem was - she got rusty in her anticipating the opponent. Before her foot even touched his face, he grabbed it. Nicole struggled trying to let go of his grip without over-stretching a muscle, but he was too fast. And clearly, much stronger. Plus - her balance was off.
The man noticed how she was supporting her outstretched leg by the weight of her grounded one, but her core was too relaxed. No support there, allowing him to use that misplaced weight and spin her around to restrain her leg, making her feel pain along her quad muscles so she had no choice but to fall on the ground on her front.
He knelt down above her, taking both hands and cuffing them behind her back.
"Playtime's over." He hissed through gritted teeth, leaning closer to her ear. "What do you know about Project Rojos?"
Nicole ignored him. "Who the hell are you?!" she shouted, hoping at least one of her neighbours will hear. The man quickly covered her mouth, her screams muffled in his hand.
"Be co-operative a bit will you, and just answer me. Now - what do you know about Project Rojos!" It wasn't even a question anymore. It was a demand.
"I don't. Fucking. Know." she could tell the man was getting aggravated. His lead was messed up - whatever this guy was looking for. He pressed her head against the floor, and Nicole started to find it getting harder to breath from all his weight on top of her.
"Then explain why your name is included in the MI6's experimental programmes. Explain why your profile is classified, high level government priority - and tell me why there is so much radiation in your body right now that could break a geiger counter - but here you are. Alive and well, Nicole Lago."
Nicole's mind raced, How does he know me? He's got the wrong person. He's got to have the wrong person - what he's saying is totally absurd! "That cannot be me, okay?! There's no way in hell! Let me go! Please…" And that's when it set in. Her mind was spinning. She looked up at the door. No. Not just one door - two doors. Wait - she was having double vision. God, did he really hit her that hard on the head? It felt like it was floating in water.
"What… Wha-What did you… do to me?" she said, her speech broken, voice faltering.
"Insurance. Don't want you try kicking my ass again. It'll only be temporary." His voice seemed like it was coming from a tunnel, getting further and further away. "Sweet dreams."
"Please. Please… Don't do… this."
And everything went black.