So, yeah, hey everyone. This is a major story involving multiple DC characters and taking inspiration from multiple different places, DC and otherwise, such as the storylines Batman: No Man's Land; Justice League: Cry For Justice; Teen Titans: It's Our Right To Fight; and Batman: War Games; the films The Dark Knight Rises and Batman: Gotham Knight; and the Batman: Arkham videogame series. I own none of these stories or characters, and I'll be uploading more chapters as they are written.
Yeah, and there's probably some offensive language in here, and quite a bit of potentially graphic violence and adult themes and references.
Also, side note: I'm still working on the Watchmen/Outsiders crossover story, but it's taking a while. Patience, my young grasshoppers, and enjoy this story :)
-TheGhostOfLostBoys
It's over, he thought.
For the night at least, we've done all we can.
But Dick knew it wasn't enough.
It was never enough.
Nightwing sat panting with his back against an old and broken brick wall, his suit damaged again, yet another tear in the old costume. There wasn't any way for him to get a replacement. Alfred had helped him make this suit.
And Alfred was dead now.
So was Bruce.
And Tim, and Damien, and Cass...and Babs.
Almost every one dead.
Rās Al Ghūl had won. He had the whole city in his pocket now, because he'd killed the Bat.
The Demon's Head had spent months planning his attacks. But when they finally came, they were beyond bad. They were brutal. He'd simply set off a hundred and twenty bombs all across Gotham city. Some were napalm, others were poison gas. The rest was plain and simple nitroglycerin.
Two and a half million people, including Alfred, Selina Kyle, and Commisioner Gordon, were dead in seconds. All Rās had needed left was to kill Batman. He did so on national television, unmasking him and Damien at the same time as their throats were cut.
Dick, Jason, and Babs had been lucky. They'd been in New York when the bombs went off, but they raced back when they saw the broadcast showing Bruce and Damien's death.
They'd come back to a city of chaos.
Rās had taken over everything. His army of ninjas and mercenaries patrolled the streets, and civilians were herded into concentration camps.
The Justice League came soon after.
They hoped to save the city.
They were doomed to fail. Rās had spent years planning this, he didn't leave anything to chance.
Most of the League was dead within days.
The government and the other heroes soon gave up trying to fight their way in, and Gotham was left to it's fate. Shut off from the world.
Abandoned.
No Man's Land all over again, thought Nightwing as he struggled to start running again.
Everybody was gone, except for Nightwing and a few others.
Red Hood, Static Shock, Riddler, Harley Quinn, Anarky, Bane, Deadshot, and Killer Moth.
Even the city's few remaining criminals had realised they stood no chance of survival without help.
They weren't the Justice League, but it was something.
Basing themselves out of the abandoned asylum on Arkham Island, they instigated riots and breakouts in the prisoner camps, evacuated civilians to Metropolis and New York, and launched attacks using gurerilla tactics.
But Nightwing knew that they'd lost the fight tonight.
Bane was dead.
Killer Moth was dying.
Everyone was bleeding and bruised and running for their lives, machine-gun fire shattering windows and sending up dirt and pieces of debris around them as they ran through the East End.
Nightwing yelled for the others to run and he'd catch up, though he wasn't sure he would. Ghūl's mercenaries were only a little behind them as they rushed trough the crumbling and twisting city back-alleys. Nightwing took a hard left, then came up on three soldiers facing the other way. A burst of panicked gunfire and the sounds of fists brutally inpacting echoed through the alleyway, then they were on the ground. Nightwing then took a grenade from one of them, and ran on.
Dick knew perfectly well that, in all likelihood, he was about to die. He didn't care, he had a city to keep safe. Before he had died, Bruce had told him that he'd one day inherit the city. The people would grow to see Nightwing the same ways they'd seen Batman. Dick was still unsure if that was a good things.
He pulled the pin on the grenade and threw it in a alley filled with mercenaries as he ran past, quickly reaching the subway entrance. The boom shuddered behind him.
Rushing down the steps into the darkness, Dick looked around for signs that Harley and the others had made it. Fresh blood had dripped on the floor, and a women's muddy bootprint could be nearby.
Killer Moth's blood, Harley's shoe, Dick thought. A little way along, he reached the main East End station, and saw Harley and Red Hood crouched over Moth's barely breathing form. Anarky was checking their emergency supplies, and Virgil Hawkins, aka Static, was guarding the door, giving Dick a nod as he walked into the station. Riddler was back on Arkham Island with the wounded Deadshot.
"How is he?" said Dick, inspecting Killer Moth's wounds. He'd been shot through the stomach and left leg. Sub-machine gun, mid range, Dick had survived worse.
"He's bleeding a little less, but if we don't get him to Arkham soon he'll die," said Harley. "What about the mercs chasin' us?"
"Dealt with. Have you called Riddler?"
"Yeah," said Red Hood. "The train should be here any second."
What many people were unaware of was an emergency evacuation subway tunnel going from Arkham Asylum to a select few subway stations. Riddler had been quick to point this out when they'd set up their base, and was now able to hijack and control them remotely with the Arkham computers.
They quickly moved Killer Moth into the train, before it started creaking it's way slowly to Arkham.
Moth was still bleeding, and phasing in and out of conciousness. Red Hood pulled off his helmet and sat down next to Anarky, panting with exhastion as he checked his own wounds.
Dick sat back and sighed, pulling off his mask. Secret identities were nothing, now, even in the presence of former enemies.
They were fighting the good fight, Dick knew that, but it was undeniably a losing battle.
They'd already lost Bane tonight, and in the past year they'd lost quite a few more.
Dick knew that, more than likely, they'd all be dead in a few weeks.