I do not own Young Justice

Pre-Chapter 1

Gotham City, August 14th 2006, 8:30 pm

The room was dark except for a light fixture dangling over a punching bag in the middle a gym. The sole occupant was performing various punching combinations on the punching bag.

Left Jab. Right Jab. Duck under an imaginary punch. Follow up with a powerful right uppercut. The boxer continued to throw more combinations at the bag; with each punch being executed with equal parts practiced ease and subtle rage.

He was teenager, only fourteen years old. He was slightly above average size in height for his age with a body build that most other boys at fourteen would kill for. He had light-Brown hair (from his mother) and blue eyes and a stern looking face, traits he apparently got from his father. His tan skin glistened with sweat as he punched forward.

The fighter grunted as he continued to pound on the bag. Memories of his Grandfather teaching him how to box, to ride a bike, and telling stories of his crime fighting days flooded his mind. Years of happy memories transitioned to a masked man in a hockey mask with a smoking gun and his Grandfather lying down of the ground. The feeling of terror and horror began to creep back, gripping his heart as he was forced to relive that moment over and over again. The eyes of his grandfather, wide open, starring at nothing.

"Thomas," his Grandfather's voice rang through his head, "Thomas…Thomas…THOMAS!) An angry scream rang through the gym as Thomas punched the bag, knocking it off its fixed position on the ceiling and sending it skidding across the floor.

Thomas dropped to his knees sobbing, the happy memories of his grandfather now replaced with loneliness. Hours passed as he cried, the sadness and loneliness beginning to turn into rage. Rage against the man who took the only family he had left. The coward who hid behind a gun.

Thomas was shaken out of his thoughts by a weight in his pant pocket. Reaching his hand into the pocket, he pulled out his grandfather's lucky coin. It was the coin he always had on him when he went into fight, both in the ring and in the streets fighting crime. It was an older coin, it did not look like it used for currency in any country Thomas was familiar with. It was a bronze-gold color coin and had a hole at the top, allowing a cord to go through it so someone can wear it as a necklace. He looked at the engraving on the front of the coin. It was crude, but he could make out a shape, a bird, shaped like an owl.

The grandfather clock chimed, shaking Thomas from his thoughts. He put the coin back into his pocket and stood up. He began to walk alongside one of the walls of the gym, looking at the pictures that filled this wall of the gym, pictures of his grandfather the famous boxer Ted Grant through out the years. One picture caught his eye for a second, a picture of his grandfather with two of his students, his mother Yolanda Grant and another man with a strong build and dark black hair and blue eyes. Bruce Wayne, Thomas thought, he was one of the people who showed up to his grandfathers funeral.

Thomas continued down the wall until he the picture he was looking for, the picture of the day he was born. He smiled sadly as he touched the picture. It was a picture of his grandfather and his mother leaving the hospital with him in her arm. He stared at the picture for a few seconds, smiling, before reminding himself of why he was here. Revenge. A frown formed on his face as he pulled down on the picture, activating the secret door into the garage under the gym, his grandfather's secret lair. As he walked down the stairs he turned on the lights.

Thomas winced and clenched his eyes as the lights turned on. After a couple of seconds of discomfort and rapid blinking, his eyesight began to clear up. With the discomfort gone, he looked around the room.

It was not a spectacular huge room. To the left of room was the motorcycle that his grandfather used in crime fighting. The classic black motorcycle was a repair project between Thomas and Ted, a project they complete weeks before his grandfather's murder. Thomas's gaze shifted to the right side of the garage, where his grandfather would rest and prepare when he was not crime fighting. There at the desk was the old police radio he used to listen in on the police frequency to figure out where the crimes were occurring. Above the desk was a medical cabinet, where various medical supplies resided. To the right of the desk was a little cot that Ted would sleep off the injuries from a night of crime fighting.

Directly in the center of the room was the display case that held his grandfathers suit, The Wildcat Suit. The suit always amazed Thomas; it was just simple black jumpsuit with a cat-shaped hood with a front portion that was shaped like a cat's nose. Two long straps draped down from the pointed ears all the way down the mask ending just above the pecks of the suit. Thomas eyes trailed down to the gloves of the costume. The gloves were covered in bandages starting from the knuckles and going up to the elbow. A Boxer's Bandages, Thomas thought, those were always Thomas' favorite part of the suit.

The suit dwarfed Thomas's fourteen-year-old body. His grandfather was built like a truck with broad shoulders and had a build like a power lifter. Thomas was big for his age but was still nowhere close to his grandfather's build.

Reaching up and grabbing the mask and the bandages of the suit, Thomas quickly got to work.

After zipping up his jacket, Thomas looked in the mirror. His outfit wasn't screaming superhero or anything but it would get the job done until he could fit in his grandfather's suit. Instead of a skintight suit, Thomas opted for a simple black zip-up hoodie and dark grey military slacks with black combat boots to honor the colors of his grandfather. His short wavy hair shot out of the hoodie and his blue eyes stared back at him. He wasn't one to brag or anything, but he always did consider himself to be rather handsome, with his grandfather always laughing and saying that his looks came from his mysterious father. The only thing he got from his grandfather and mother was his tan skin and broad build.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he began to bind his wrist with the bandages. After a few misshapes and redo's, Thomas was satisfied with his work. It's show time, he thought. He grabbed the mask, putting it on. He turned around to look at himself in the mirror. Great, I look like a Batman cosplayer. Shaking his head, Thomas headed over to the bike and grabbed the helmet. Hopping on, he paused, looking at the garage door. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Watch over me Gramps. I'll find the bastard who did this. His eyes open, grabbing the handlebars; he revved the engine to life. The old bike rattled softly, filling Thomas with a sense of confidence and comfort, it was like Gramps was here with him. Thomas smiled and hit the button for the garage door. Thomas' face was greeted with a gust of cold air. Putting on his bike helmet, Thomas rode out onto the streets.

Look out Gotham, there is a new Wildcat in town!

...

Gotham City, August 15th 2006, 12:30 am

Wildcat rode down the streets of Gotham looking for trouble. He decided that the best place to start was Park Row. Years ago, Park Row used to be one of the nicer neighborhoods in Gotham, that is until the Wayne's were shot down by a mugger. Ever since that day twenty-four years ago, Park Row has become a festering pool of crime. This is probably the best place to start to find out who killed my grandfather.

The air was unusually cold tonight. It felt good. It was numbing. The streets were surprisingly quiet and well lit. Where is the crime? I came out looking for the main in the hockey mask. Why is it so quiet? Wildcat got off his bike and began to lean on the bike. He looked at the surrounding area, which was illuminate by the lamppost that lined the streets. There were lot of older homes and apartments packed together and lining the street, creating a weird urban canopy effect. A handful of these places looked nice, but a lot of them were worn down and not taken care of. He stood there for what felt like hours. He check his phone... "Only thirty minutes has passed? Dammit!" It was here that Wildcat heard a scream for help. Wildcat jumped up, trying to find the where the sound came from. Finally, some action! He ran down the street following the screams for help.

As Wildcat rounded the corner of the street, he hid in the shadows as he saw the origin of the scream. There at an ATM was an older woman surrounded by four masked thugs, all brandishing pipes and crowbars at the woman. The woman looked like a waitress, must've come off a late night shift. The thugs were your traditional Park Row criminals, dirty ugly men that packed quite a punch. Wildcat listened as the thugs surrounded the lady.

"Listen doll-face, just give as your purse and you'll be on your merry way" one of the thugs said with a crooked smile, his arms in a pacifying stance.

As soon as the words let his mouth, the lady threw the purse to him. "There you have it! Now let me leave!"

The charming thug, who was clearly the leader, picked the purse up and began looking through it. After pulling out some cash and credit cards, he threw the purse to the side. The leader looked at that the other thugs before shrugging and turning back to the lady, "Actually lady, why don't we make this a little bit more interesting for all of us" the leader asked, while the other thugs laughed.

The Lady's eyes widened in fear, "No! You promised I could leave!" She tried to take a step further back, but the wall prevented her from going any farther.

The men only chuckled at this as they stepped forward. "We never promised anything Doll-face."

Wildcat had heard enough. The masked man could wait, this was more important. "OI! Assholes, why don't you pick on someone your own size?" He walked out of the shadows, cracking his knuckles.

The thugs bristled at that sound of his voice. "Shit it's the Bat!" one of the thugs screamed as he tripped over himself at the sound of the new voice. The men turned around in fear only to see Wildcat.

"Wait, this ain't the Bat, its just some kid dressed as a Cat!" one of the thugs exclaimed. "Hey Kid, isn't a little early to be wearin' Halloween costumes?"

Wildcat chuckled, as he quickly grabbed one of the thugs and flipped him over his shoulder, throwing him on the ground. "But just in time for Fall" he snickered. Wildcat readied himself as the other thugs surrounded him, eyeing them and deciding which one to strike at first. There! He rushed one of the thugs, ducking under the swing of his pipe and placing a strong right punch into the thug's stomach, following it up with a left upper cut to the chin. As soon as he took down the first guy, the other thugs quickly jumped in, grabbing him from both sides. Wildcat tried to struggle but it was no use.

"You kid, you had us scared for a moment. We thought you was that Bats at first" The Thug he threw chuckled as he shook his head, slapping the crowbar in his hands. His face then twisted into an ugly scowl, "Its time we taught this little punk a lesson!"

Wildcat looked over the thugs' shoulders to see the lady pick up her purse and run away. Good, he thought, at least she got away

He braced himself as the first strike hit across the head. The cowl cushioned the blow but it did not completely stop his brain from rattling in his skull. The throbbing pain was disorienting, but he could see the thug ready his for another swing. Wildcat quickly kneed the thug holding his right arm and grabbed the crow bar before it hit him. Ripping the crowbar away from the thug, he kicked the other one off his arm.

This fight, it felt just like how his grandfather described it to him. Beating up crooks, saving the pretty ladies, it filled him with excite, accomplishment. Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders Wildcat readied the crowbar. "Are you boys ready for round two?" he laughed.

The Thugs looked at each other before rushing him. He smacked the first thug across the face with crowbar before throwing it at the second thug, knocking him out cold. The lead thug rushed forward on Wildcat, jabbing and weaving.

Wildcat dodged and returned some jabs of his own. This guy is a boxer. To bad I am better. Wildcat deflected a left punch before grabbing the offending hand and twisting it over his body, throwing the lead thug again. He turned around to deal with one of remaining thugs, sending a brutal kick into his side, resulting in a sickening crunch. The thug crumbled to ground, withering in pain from the devastating kick. Wildcat stood in front of three of the fallen thugs. They were not getting up anytime soon. He let out a breathe of relief, relaxing his body.

CLICK

Wildcat turned around to see that the lead thug had gotten back up again, now pointing a pistol at him.

"You are pretty good kid," the lead thug said as he cocked the handgun. "You're pretty good at punching and dodging fists, but can you dodge a bullet?" The aimed the gun at Wildcat's chest.

Shit, I got careless. Wildcat closed his eyes and time seemed to slow down. He failed; he was not going to avenge his grandfather, he was not going to become a great super hero like his grandfather, he was going to die. He braced for the bullet. However when gun fired, all heard was a curse from the thug and the sounds of a loud crack and metal hitting metal. When he opened his eyes, in front of him was a small metal bat shuriken, kind of like a Batarang… Wildcat's eyes rose up from the Batarang to its source. Standing in front of him was the Batman and some lady dressed like a cat.

The lady dressed like a cat cracked her whip on the ground. "Come on boys, one kid is causing you trouble" She smirked " I wonder how much trouble a grown Cat and a Bat can cause you"

Batman cracked his knuckles then tilted his head to look at Catwoman. "Cat" he said in a warning tone.

"Right, right we have to be serious," Catwoman said in a sarcastic tone. She stretched her arms over head before adopting a relaxed, but deadly stance. She smirked, "I thought I could at least tease them a bit before kicking their asses."

The thugs Wildcat beat picked themselves up from the ground. They looked at each then back at the duo. "Yo man we can't fight the Bats. We just common thugs" one of the thugs said as he backed away from the others.

The Leader obviously seemed disagreed. "What are you talking about man? We obviously outnumber them, besides if we take down the Batman we will be famous!"

Catwoman looked at them with a raised eyebrow, "You're serious, the kid wailed on you guys, what do you think will happen when we get to you."

Despite this, the others seemed to warm up the main thugs enthusiasm. "Yeah, you're right we can take 'em!" the thug with the crowbar said as he took a step towards Batman.

Batman's eyes narrowed. Catwoman snorted and shook her head in amusement "Your mistake boys." In an instant, Catwoman cracked her whip around the lead thug's foot, yanking it out from under him and sending him crashing in the ground. Batman batted the thug with the crowbar arm away and landed a devastating punch on the thug's jaw.

"Di-Did you see that!? One Punch…He took down Remmy in one Punch"

Immediately after taking down the thug, Batman reached into his belt and pulled out two batarangs, aiming it at the remaining thugs. With a swift throw, the remaining thugs were knocked out.

Batman looked around that the moaning thugs, before bring is hand to his ear, "Bat to Penny-One. Contact Commissioner Gordon and left him know there are men for him to pick up". When he finished he turned to Wildcat. He took a step forward. "That was incredibly stupid Thomas. You could've gotten yourself killed."

Wildcat was shocked. Batman knows who I am… wait…The initial shock gave away as anger filled Wildcat's blood. Where was he when my grandfather was killed? Where was the Batman when that man in the mask took my only family away from me? Wildcat trembled with rage. "You…"

Catwoman looked at the boy "Hey you ok ki…" She started as she walked towards Wildcat

"WHERE WERE YOU?!" Wildcat howled in rage as he ripped of his cowl and charged at Batman. Catwoman took back a step in surprise, but Batman held his ground. Wildcat threw a punch at Batman's head, who easily blocked with his arm. "WHERE WERE YOU WHEN MY GRANDFATHER WAS KILLED?" Wildcat continued to throw punch, with Batman repeatedly dodging and blocking the punches. "WHERE WERE YOU WHEN THE MAN SHOT HIM?" Warm tears trailed down Wildcat's, "Where….were you?" he sobbed as he continued to weakly hit Batman's chest. He fell to his knees.

A hand touched his shoulder as he cried. When he looked up, he was not greeted by the face of Batman, but the face of the man from the photo in the hallway, Bruce Wayne. "I am sorry Thomas. I am sorry" Bruce pulled the crying teen into his arms, giving Thomas the comfort he so desperately needed. He rubbed Thomas' back, "I am sorry."

Another hand touched his back; this time it was the Cat Lady. She gave him a soft smile, "It's going to be ok now, we got you." She wiped a tear from his eye before turning to Bruce, "Bruce…we should go," She paused looking at Thomas. "You need to take him home."

Bruce looked at her before nodding. "Come on Thomas, lets get you out of here." Bruce stood up, helping the crying teen to his feet. He pulled his cowl over his face, once again becoming the Batman, before give Thomas his cowl. "Come on, we should head to the cave."

Thomas sniffed, wiping away some tears. He looked down at the cowl before grabbing it and slipping it back on. Batman and Catwoman nodded before turning around and walking back towards the street. Wildcat began to follow them before stopping. "Wait what about my bike?"

Batman did not stop, "I had the Batmobile pick it up." He continued to walk out the alley.

Wildcat had more questions, "Wait where are we going?" He ran to catch up to the two vigilantes.

Catwoman laughed before rubbing Wildcat's head roughly, "Where are we going? Well to the Bat Cave Obviously!"