Once Upon a Time in Gotham

by Storm0fCrows

Gotham was a hard city. It's the kind of place that would smile to your face and shoot you in the stomach. Gotham was a city built from iron and blood. It was a hungry a city, it devoured those it considered weak and spat them out as damaged husks. Gotham was a city that wanted no more heroes. Frank Lawton knew this better than most, after all... this was his kind of city.

1. Catturati in Fari

Chapter I: Catturati in Fari

"You don't know how you got here
You just know you want out
Believing in yourself
Almost as much as you doubt
You're a big smash
You wear it like a rash.
Star."

-U2, Hold me, Thrill me, Kiss me, Kill me

XxX

No one understands the true meaning of suffering until they are standing, soaked to the bone, over a manhole on Gotham's lower East Side in the middle of November while it was raining. Normally, one would shy away from such unpleasant set of circumstances, seeing as neither the weather nor the sewer were conductive for any human beings health but sadly this was just another Friday night for Frank Lawton.

Dressed in a black hoody, blue jeans, and a pair of faded black boots, Frank used an iron crowbar to ply the heavy manhole cover off and out of the concrete. At first glance, there wasn't much that would make him stand out, he was decently tall, he looked like most men on his father's side of the family, light greenish brown, dark black hair with a hint of a tan from where the bloodline mixed with the natives of the necropolis that was Gotham, he weighed approximately two hundred pounds, mostly muscle but he wasn't ripped.

'Why am I here?' Was the question that ran through his head as the heavy metal gave way, almost instantly his nose was assaulted by the stench of shit and decay that made him want to lose his lunch. The answer to that question was a rather simple one and it was standing nigh two feet away from him. Harper Row was a beautiful girl that lived one floor below his apartment. She was dressed in faded black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and high boots. She had long black hair, dazzling brown eyes, and one hell of a pretty smile.

They met three years ago, they were fifteen at the time, Frank had gone to the basement in hopes of fixing the water heater and found Harper already working on it. He wasn't going to lie and say that they quickly became friend but repeated exposure over six months was enough for it to happen eventually. Like most teenagers, Frank eventually developed feelings for the girl.

Not that he allowed himself to act on them, he was far too broken to do that.

It seemed that death in the family was a common theme in Gotham, Frank and his brother Joe lost both their parents in a car accident, Harper witnessed her mother's murder. But there was one clear difference that put them in different walks of life.

While Harper still had her father and her family wasn't separated by the state, Frank was sent to Gather House while his brother finished his studies. He spent three years under their 'care' and for a time he wasn't sure he'd be able to recuperate.

They did things to him, unspeakable, horrendous, inhumane things, and for what? 'A better world? A better Gotham? For whom?' He would ask himself whenever his mind drifted to a time when he was little more than a number and in response he heard Mother Patrick's voice ring in his ear singing that same old song.

'At Gather House, each one of our classrooms will be a garden where tomorrow blooms. '

He would hear that retched woman's voice frequently… or more precisely whenever he was feeling agitated.

"How's working for Chang?" She asked in hopes of distracting him from the putrid stench. "Heard his blown himself up a few times."

"It stinks, but not as bad as this." He pointed out rather lamely, usually the Grid, as Harper affectionatley called it, didn't smell this bad but knowing the city planners there may as well have put it so workers knee high in shit. "Are you sure this is the right section?"

Harper raised an eyebrow and gave him crooked smile. "Yep, hope it isn't too much for your delicate sensibilities." She said jokingly but Frank picked up the challenge in her undertone of her little jab.

"My sensibilities?" He asked in a level tone but stood as if he'd been offended, he placed a hand over his heart and dropped the crowbar dramatically. "Imagine, what would Tim Drake think when you show up to that gala smelling like… " Frank took an overly exaggerated breath. "I wanna to say death but hell could work too."

Frank saw the punch to the shoulder happen before Harper could fully register his words, but he did nothing to avoid, instead choosing to laugh at her quickly reddening face, playing his part like he should… even though he regretted reminding himself of his crush's crush. Objectively, he could understand what made Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne's newest ward, attractive. Blue eyes, rich, fit, good hair, ect.. But would he trek through miles of sewage? Frank highly doubted that.

That was probably the biggest difference between Frank Lawton and Tim Drake. One was comfortable while the other would go to the ends of the world for a chance at that type of life.

"I don't wanna to hear another word out of either you or Cullen about Drake." She said ducking into the manhole. "I complemented him once and the two won't shut up about it."

"I wonder why?" He responded while pulling up his grey shirt over his nose and following after her. Getting out of the rain was enough of a bonus that he gladly didn't mind the smell. "It's not like you've been freaking out about that raffle invitation for the past two weeks."

"Just for that, I'm not bringing any food for you." That was the moment that Frank understood he'd pushed the joke farther than he had intended to. Sure, it was entertaining getting a rise out of Harper at four in the morning, healthy even, but he wanted to be depraved of free food. Part of him blamed exhaustion, another blamed his poor impulse control, but mostly he blamed Cullen for using the word "gaga" when describing Harper's reaction to a pic of a shirtless Tim Drake at the beach with a mystery blonde. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

By this point they could hear the roar of the water becoming louder as they descended deeper into the Underground. It was going to be the last run for the night, an hour to get to the damaged part of the grid, two hours to fix it, and an hour back. Chances were he'd dig himself deeper if he didn't at least try to apologize.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

"Nope."

XxX

Frank Lawton awoke to the increasingly irritating buzzing of an out of reach alarm clock and a numb arm that was pinned under Harper's body. This wasn't an unusual occurrence as one would expect, it happened at least four times a week or whenever something went wrong with the circuits in the sewer and Gotham Electric decided that it would be a good idea to send two kids just out of high school into the underground, but mostly it was on a Friday.

Frank rubbed his forehead, as he always did when he woke up and looked around. It was cold, it was dark, and all he wanted to do is close his eyes and roll closer to Harper… maybe take their foul smelling jacket but that seemed like too much work for minimal rewards. So, he stared at the slow wooden fan blade until the alarm quieted and Harper began to stir.

Eventually, Harper opened her eyes, revealing here dark brown orbs, and shook her head, causing the her black mane to whip around and smack his face, in retaliation he pulled his arm from underneath her and simultaneously stole her pillow. She grunted but otherwise refused to move as Frank got off the bed.

Had Frank thought himself the sentimental type he would of consider the sight of the dark haired beauty dressed in his oversized black jacket and a dirty pair of jeans a heartwarming sight, but he didn't so he was quick to exit the room.

The apartment was a decently sized by most people's standards, two bedroom a small living room, a kitchenette, and a bathroom with a shower.

Joe, his brother, was probably still working so it was mostly empty. A quick glance at the nearby clock revealed that it was almost eleven. There was a brief moment between him spotting the time and the speed in which his mind processed information. Frank groaned when he realized that he was late for a job opportunity and would have to go on without a bite of breakfast.

"Hope this is worth it."

Frank was jack-of-all trades, doing small and doubtlessly odd jobs between helping Harper with her work and being a lab "Assistant" to his parents' former employer. Most of it was good money but some of it was rather dubious, this opportunity would help him get Joe out of the Narrows and hopefully somewhere more comfortable.

He clumsily walked over to the sink and splashed water over his tired face. When that failed to wake him up, he put his head be beneath the water and twisted the cold water knob. He stood there for a full ten seconds before pulling him self out, he then ran a hand through his black hair.

Between Harper and him there was a grad to total of five glorious hours of sleep, which was pretty good considering their rather sporadic line of work. If he wasn't sure there would be work for Harper in the afternoon he would take the van to his quote un quote interview at the LexCorp building that meant he'd have to take the train, which under any other circumstance would have been a great but between the increase in murders and the time constraints it would be a problem.

It was then that someone began knocking, gently at first before becoming a bit more frantic. Frank opened the drawer and pulled out a large, freshly sharpened, kitchen knife, before slowly making his way towards the door.

The past few months had shown a slow but persistent escalation of violence throughout the city, it was subtle enough that more than a few people failed to notice it but the signs were there, as if Gotham was overdue for another storm. Children were being taken from their homes, their Parents drowned; new gangs were springing out of the woodwork; and the rate in which people were being shaken down by an under funded and overworked police force was becoming exponential; the cause was simple enough to understand, or at least for a layman like himself; without Batman the criminals were gaining their confidence back.

So, in other words it paid to be careful.

"Frank!" A familiar voice shouted from behind the door prompting him to lower the knife and quickly open the door. Cullen, stood about half head shorter than him and was skinnier than a toothpick, Frank mused, for a second, that had his mother been alive she would had let him leave the table for at least a week. Cullen was a carbon copy of his twin but their personalities were polar opposites. Where Harper was loud, outgoing and loved to wear plain sleeveless shirt, Cullen was quiet, shy, and always dressed in long sleeved t-shits that had and album covers printed on them.

Cullen didn't hesitate once he saw Frank, he slipped right by him and into the apartment and frantically looked around the room.

"Have you seen Harper?" He asked finally turning to Frank. "She didn't come back to the apartment yesterday." Cullen was out of breath and there was a large fresh bruise right under his left eye. The Row twins were as stubborn as Frank was quick on his feet, he knew Cullen wouldn't even take a pack of ice let alone the name of the punk who'd hit him.

Frank couldn't help but shake his head as he pointed towards the door leading to his room. But no matter how different the twins acted, they shared a need to keep each other safe, no matter the odds. This was evident with how quickly the tension seemed to melt away from Cullen.

"She's sleeping." He said in a horse voice, he could feel an itch coming on he'd have ask Joe to check it out before he got sick. Gotham's sewers were no joke, there were some nasty bacteria in those deep hollow holes where the founders of this city threw away Forgotten Dead. "What happened? Was it John?"

"No, they weren't from the Narrows." He answered dismissively, but by this point Frank couldn't really expect anything else. The a few teens had made it their bleak little lives mission to harass and borderline torture Cullen. "I've seen them in Park Row a few times but never around here." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "They just took my wallet, nothing to get worked up about." Which would have been true had he been anyone else.

Frank had to admit that he was a bit of a hypocrite, he couldn't care less about the entirety of Gotham, yet he hated the indifference the city's people showed to one another. It was a pretty big character flaw, he admitted, but as long as the few people he actually cared about didn't mind, he really didn't either.

He could probably name the people he gave a damn about in one hand; There was Joe, his older brother, upstanding member of society and diligent nurse; Harper, engineer and Batman Fangirl, there were feeling there; Cullen, best friend... he suspected that he has a crush on Joe; Amelia Robbins, old woman who moved up from New York after the death of a neighbor, she gave him food every once in a while; and technically there was a fifth but she didn't really bare mentioning.

A quick glance at the clock told him to leave the subject till Harper was awake, to make Cullen a bit more forthcoming with details. He was already running late as it was and quick wiff of his clothing screamed that he desperately needed to shower.

Frank sent Cullen a look that let him know that the discussion was nowhere near over. Cullen looked away, pretending to not have seen him, and that he wasn't biting his lower lip.

"Don't wake her up." He told Cullen as he made his way towards the bathroom. "Not until you're ready to talk." Out of the corner of his eye, Frank eyed the vibrant red backpack that held the keys to his future.

XxX

There was something serene about Gotham transit, it was probably the only constant in the crumbling city, at least it was for Frank Lawton but then again he had always been a strange one. He enjoyed riding the tracks, with his eyes closed as he blasted Ennio Morricone's masterpiece L'estasi dell'oro in crudely made headphones, and sketched whatever came to mind in his old brown leather bound notebook. Frank enjoyed the gentle sway as it was accompanied by the melodic singing of Edda Dell'Orso, it almost made him feel like he was part of the film he'd been named after.

The compartment was nearly empty, except for the old haggard beggar that always sat at its farthest edges, mumbling about hellfire and blood. Frank never talked to him and the beggar pretended not to notice Frank. It was probably due to Frank's less than common and exceedingly infamous last name than it did any form of silent understanding between the high school senior and the deranged "Holy" man.

Out of the ten million people he could be related to, out of all the scum and dredges of humanity, he was related to Gotham's least favorite son, Floyd Lawton or as he was more commonly referred to Deadshot. Sure, they distant cousins, who had never crossed paths but that didn't matter in a city where a family name indicated both your status and approachability. Had he inherited his mother's last name he would've been looked over and otherwise ignored, but then again it would have become too much of a hassle in a place like the Narrows.

The Lawton name brought both protection and isolation, a double edge sword if there ever was one.

"Arriving at Kane Street Station." A smooth masculine voice echoed from the three decade old speaker. "Next stop Pikney Way."

The train pulled into Kane Street Station with a shudder, a groan and a loud screech, like usual it was six minutes behind schedule an like usual the compartment filled with the usual drabble; there were a few teens with strange haircuts and even stranger sun glasses, more than likely part of a gang with big dreams that would probably be smashed to pieces once they encountered one of either the Penguin, Black Mask, or the Joker; then there were the men in worn suits that were either going to the same job they'd been going to for the past thirty years or were trying to appeal to some prick that would give them a shitty loan so they could continue living in the depths of the Bowery; and then there were the faceless multitude that came to hear the beggar preach.

"The Gotham Transit Authority would like to remind you to report anything strange or suspicious behavior to the conductor or contact Emergency Services. Remember, together we can build a better Gotham." Frank barely even notices the wide birth the other passengers were giving him as they shuffled into the train like wild cattle. He simply kept his eyes closed until the starts moving again and he could feel the rocking once more.

'Three more stops.' He reminded pulling a small match from his pants pocket, he brought it up to his mouth and started to slowly naw on it, like his father used to do.

His father had been obsessed with the old Italian Westerns and it was a trait that he'd passed onto Frank's older brother, Joe, before his death. Joe had taken to pass it onto him even though Frank much preferred his quiet tinkering to loud guns, but one would have to be a special kind of idiot to walk the streets of Gotham without some sort of protection. Take his friend Harper Row as an example, she designed and constructed her own homemade taser and she carried it absolutely everywhere.

Frank had a batarang concealed by the sleeves of his grey hoody. He'd found after a night in the sewers with Harper, their guess was that Batman was either fighting Killer Croc or Scarecrow, as those two tended to prefer the close courters combat that the underground offered. She'd gotten one of her own but she saw it as a memento, he saw it for its practical applications.

It was a versatile tool. Whenever his brother got back home from exhausted from his night shifts at Elliot Memorial Hospital and misplaces the can opener… or when he needs to open a package, or if Frank ever needed to stop one of those jackasses that regularly harassed Cullen, it served as both a deterrent and a handy cutting tool.

By now the train was over halfway over the Finger River on its way into Gotham's beautiful outer shell running parallel to Centennial Bridge. The sun was finally just rising above the horizon bathing the purple sky into an a dark and vibrant orange that filled the compartment with its natural light.

Frank kept on drawing as the song switched from the calming L'estasi dell'oro to the more stimulating The Man Who Stole the World covered by Midge Ure. He could feel his hand quicken as the music accelerated its tempo.

With any luck he'd be done before he reached Union Station. Sadly, Frank wasn't considered to be a lucky person.

Another five minutes passed before there one of Gotham's delinquent youth grew enough spine to approach him. Frank couldn't really blame for thinking he was an easy target, he wasn't buff in the slightest, but he was lean. He was the one that climbed the poles to help Harper fix the vandalized or damaged lines, he was usually the last guy throwing punches, and he knew how to run. Now, the fact of the matter was that as much as he preferred to deal with the problem quickly he couldn't risk damaging the contents of his backpack

Frank opened his eyes and glared with his dark grey-greenish eyes. These new kids were different to the older criminals in only one way; A mugger just wants the wallet; these brats were only in it for the blood. Had Frank not been there, they would have turned to the men in suits, he didn't doubt that at least four of the men in suits had some type of fire arm on their person, but this was Gotham and none would lift a finger to help a kid from the Narrows.

So, Frank did the only thing he could do: he took off his headphones and placed it with the eight-year old MP3 player in his worn red backpack.

"Come on, baby, come alive!" He heard one of them shout their approaching friend, the voice sounded female.

"Nail the Spud!" Another shouted, this time male. "Slice and Dice."

The kid was grinning wildly by the time he'd reached Frank and had Frank been able to see his eyes he was pretty sure they'd be wild too. He knew how people like him and his friends thought, they responded to violence and intimidation. Mother Patrick had taught him as much.

'We're growing Gotham's future, strong and true, to build a better world for you and me."

Frank snapped.

It wasn't like the movies, there was no stare down, no dramatic tension, and no exchange of banter. Frank moved just as quickly as Harmonica and as mercilessly as his namesake, his fist connected with the bridge of the kid's nose. Frank didn't relent, he grabbed him by the jacket pushed forward making sure that he knocked him over. Once he was on the floor, Frank was quick to pin him down and drove his fist once more this time he felt the bone give way as his knuckle connected. He pulled back his fist and slammed it right back down for good measure, causing the hot blood to spatter onto his hoody.

His movements were automatic, ingrained into him by a crazy nun and her cadre of scientists.

Gather House preyed on the one resource no decent human being ever wished to exploit. Children where their currency, normal children to the point where they became useful tools of influence. Seventeen was given strength that was only matched by her brutality; Eight was altered to be beyond beauty which quickly caused his stable psyche crumble; then there was Frank himself… number Ten, enhanced senses and a boosted his resistance or was it stamina? Things got fuzzy whenever he tried to remember the specifics.

Once he was sure his would be attacker was unconscious, Frank looked up at his frieds to find that they hadn't even moved from their spots on the train instead they seemed to be satisfied with laughing and pointing at the bleeding boy, like a pack of deranged hyenas. The rest of them were no better, the men in suits were looking every which way, in an effort to pretend they weren't party to whatever was happening around them, and the beggars were too enthralled by the Deacon's words to look away from the sermon.

Frank hated Gotham and if his brother hadn't urged him to stay in it he would have left it behind him when he hit his eighteenth birthday. There were a few people, like Harper and Joe, who still thought Gotham was worth saving and then there were people like Frank, who were just looking for an out and he found it.

There were always devils willing to make deals, but Lex Luthor was just the only devil whom was willing to do business with a teen. Sure, he wasn't a savant like Harper but he knew a few things… things that even Luthor with his massive intellect didn't know.

"Now approaching Pikney Way." Frank went over to his seat and grabbed his bag before moving to the doors. "Next stop Union Station, Wayne Tower."

"That spud is billy nasty!" He heard one of the kids say as the train came to a screeching halt. The second the doors slid apart, he went right through them into the filthy grey remnant of a golden age that had long since passed. Frank was sure it had been beautiful once but after Massacre of the Hoods six years ago, there wasn't a soul who dared get off the train. From there the violence spread like a disease until Mayor Hill quartered off this small but proud neighborhood.

He was now in the heart of the Bowery.

The heat of Gotham's No-Man's-Land.

But at least it was morning, so most of its inhabitants were either too drunk to be a threat or too tired from their long nights. All he could do was soldier on and hope he didn't run into someone he couldn't out run.

With a deep breath Frank made his way around the dilapidated structure and deeper into No-Man's-Land.

XxX

Alexander Luthor stood smiling at the top of his tower overlooking the city he was helping rebuilding. It was of course just another publicity stunt to draw the courts attention away from his less accepted activities and to create some goodwill with that idiot Bruce Wayne.

The thing that had Lex smiling was that his large investment was already paying off. He had created an opportunity for the disenfranchised youth of Gotham, to steal them away from Wayne Tech before they had the chance to make a better offer. The probability that at least one gifted teen would fall into his net was low but he had eventually found one… actually he found two.

Frank Lawton was eighteen years old and had created a working, and more importantly stable, method of creating Xenothium or at least so he claimed.

According to Mercy the boy was intelligent, which could mean a major boon if he joined LexCorp but troublesome should Wayne or one of his people manage to lure him away with their childish idealism. His file spoke of academic excellence for his two tears in exceedingly competitive Gather House, and he even managed to graduate early once he was inducted into Solomon street High School.

His parent's background in engineering and chemistry added to his credibility, especially their work with the late Professor Chang, and his group in Jump City. If the boy had retained enough information from his dead parents to synthesize Xenothium the he would be an indispensible asset, doubly so if Lex could draw in Harper Row along with him.

Of that he had little doubt.

The smile dropped the moment he felt his private phone begin to vibrate in his pants. He was certain he had specifically instructed Mercy that he was not to be bothered until after his noon meeting with the Lawton boy.

"What happened?" He answered in the most controlled voice he could manage.

"We lost Lawton." Was his bodyguard's crisp response.

"Of all the incompetent-!" He sneered into his phone before cutting himself off. "How exactly did your people lose him?"

"There was an incident on the train, a so called 'Child of Croc' attempted to assault Frank Lawton. " She explained calmly. "Lawton then proceeded to neutralize him and then exited the train before the officers on the train arrived on scene our agent was unable to follow."

"Retrieve him."

"Of course, sir." With that he hung up the phone, the sneer never left his face as he made his way to his office on the floor bellow. He entered his temporary workstation and found that it was not empty as he had thought it would be. Sitting in a simple back chair across from his desk was none other than the devil himself, Bruce Wayne.

Without hesitation, a charming smile spread across his face. "Bruce Wayne!" He greeted with enthusiasm and predictably Wayne turned gave his own false smle and rose from his seat to greet him.

"Lex Luthor," He responded clasping Lex's arms. "I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced but we have something to discuss that was-is rather urgent."

"No problem at all. "Take a seat."" Lex said dismissively as he pulled to glasses from beneath one of the drawers and a bottle of Scotch. "Have you finally come to sell me that pesky Applied Science division?" It was a joke, of course, Wayne Industries was booming thanks to their Applied Science Division and as much of an idiot Wayne was he wasn't dumb enough to sell his biggest source of profit. He poured the amber liquid into the crystal glasses and pushed one over to Gotham's favorite son.

But one could not fault Lex for trying.

Wayne chuckled and shook his head lightly. "As much as I would like to sell it to you, Lex, my board would kill me."

He forced himself to laugh, "Then I can't possibly see a reason for your presence here, Bruce, I honestly can't, so unless this will affect my company in the immediate future I'm going to have to ask you to leave, I have another meeting soon."

"The subject of your noon meeting is precisely what I want to talk to you about." Wayne replied calmly. "I'm willing to offer you ground floor access to a joint project with Wayne Enterprises and S.T.A. R. Labs-."

"If I drop Frank Lawton." The bald genius finished, Wayne had bigger balls than Lex could ever imagine. "You do realize that whatever you offer pales in comparison to the production of Xenothium?"

"The chance to help develop a clean, effective energy source, that has ample science behind it, with guaranteed massive profit margins and building some good will at the same time." Bruce said plainly, dropping his fake smile and looking at him with a perfect poker face. "or the theorized production of a highly unstable ore, that has no real market value, and will cause a few governmental organizations to keep a closer eye on your dealings… personally I believe that there's too high a risk compared to the reward, but that just me."

Lex stared at his fellow businessman and glared. Though Wayne's logic was sound it was obvious that the only reason he was being dissuaded was because Wayne wanted to the boy for himself. Now, Lex understood that it wouldn't be in his companies best interest if the authorities found another excuse to halt LexCorp's activities but Xenothium's untapped potential in the hands of buffoons would be as big a tragedy as the day Superman first darkened the sky's of Metropolis.

The sad thing about the entire matter was that he couldn't refuse Wayne's offer, not when public opinion was so low. Inwardly, Lex scowled but outwardly he extended he had a blank expression as he pretended to ponder the best option.

The best solution was rather simple one, but it did lack taste. He could get a local to deal with the problem, it would be quick, clean, and surprisingly easy to orchestrate. It would probably take years before his scientist managed to recover the data but such was life

In fact, he had the perfect pawn in mind.

All he had to do now was get rid of Wayne, and make few calls.

XxX

The Bowery had once been part of the heart of the city that had become Gotham, now it was barely an afterthought in the mind of the average citizen. Its decline started when the last of the Pikneys disappeared, days after the death Alan Wayne.

From there on it had been one horror after the next until all the decent people up rooted and move the other neighborhoods until only those who enjoyed the violence and those too poor remained.

His father's side of the family had hand in it, of that he was certain, the Lawton's had made their wealth from buildings until it became too toxic to own. Not that he actually blamed them, they were black hearted bastards but so were most people that came into the city, Waynes, Kanes, Cobblepots, Arkhams, Lawtons, they all did their best to survive in this ravenous city.

Just like him.

Always looking after number one.

Frank tried to stick to the more populated areas, where there was at least a cop car patrolling even if it was for show. The closed down Jezebel Center was interestingly the quickest and safest route though the Bowery, this was only possible thanks to the efforts of Oswald Cobblepot, who frank doubted he saw himself as anything besides less than Gotham's greatest Don, he paraded around the city in a snow white limo and the public ate it up.

Frank had been ten when people like the Penguin stated popping up, his parents had made him and his brother move away right before the year long Blackout, so, he wasn't partial to any of the city's villains. They'd moved to Jump City for work some independent think tank headed by one strange looking old name that went by the name of Chang, who upon his return to Gotham had taken Frank under his wing or so he claimed. They lived there for about three years before the accident, then there were those two years he spent in Gather House, a boarding school for troubled youths… or so they claimed, and then finally his brother somehow managed to get him out. They could barely afford the Narrows back then, until Joe snagged a job at Elliot Memorial.

He was born in Gotham and like all those born to her, he was bound to her but unlike the many Frank didn't feel the connection… that feeling that he owed the city his body and soul.

Frank glanced at the glass-covered ceiling hoping to catch a glimpse of a street name but found that the nearest posts were vandalized to the pint that he names of the streets were just faded out letters and ugly illegible scribbles. He turned the corner and as luck would have it he spotted the roof of the now defunct Gotham's Merchant Bank. It was one of the few remaining landmarks that the Bowery's inhabitants dared not deface and once more it was thanks to another one of the city's villains.

With a landmark directly in front of him Frank turned around, now confident that he knew how to exactly get to Founder's Island.

The problem that he had living outside of the city for a portion of his life was that he could barely keep track with ever changing cityscape. Between Gotham's elite that wished to change the city at a whim and the City's underbelly who fought to change it to theirs, it was a wonder how people seemed to find their way around.

Three blocks later had him standing at the steps of Solomon Wayne's courthouse, which meant that he was out of the Bowery and at the northern fringes of Park Row. If the courthouse wasn't enough of an indicator of the change in neighborhoods, the cleaner streets and larger police presence should have cleared up any confusion.

Frank had grown up in Park Row, a few blocks away on Fleet Street, between the GCPD building and Olympus, the nightclub. His parents were friends with a local cop and his wife, who had transferred from Chicago to Gotham, along with his family. He remembered being friends with the officer's daughter, she had red hair and had a small dog that she took almost everywhere. Her name was Barbara

He briefly contemplated looking up if Babs, to see what had happened to long haired firecracker he'd used to know, but a quick glance at his phone quickly dissuaded him from the notion. He was late as it was, and besides what was he going to say after eight years of no contact? With three of those eight years living in the same city? He wasn't going to spoil a childhood memory on a fancy.

Seeing that he wouldn't make it to LexCorp building on time he continued on foot Frank signaled down a bright yellow taxi. There was something unique about Gotham's Taxi service and that was that they didn't give a damn about their passenger's days or why they were visiting the city, they just wanted to know where you were going.

He opened the door and was hit with the smell of old leather and an expired air freshener. Frank almost recoiled but with the thought of the generous he would be payment for the formula he pushed through his disgust "LexCorp on Founder's Island, West Side." Those were the only instruction the cabbie needed. Without acknowledgment the car shot forward, swerving through traffic, like they were being chased by the Joker himself.

The only other sound besides the rattling of the engines was the cheery voice of Gotham's most popular news anchor, Vicky Vale. Oddly enough, Frank didn't have an opinion about the blonde journalist unlike the majority of the people he knew. To most Vicky Vale was far more polarizing than the news she so dutifully reported, some found her to be a joke while other considered her a decent reporter.

Frank had to admit that some of the stories she covered were just fluff pieces but there was always something important, like the missing children

"…In other news, sources claim to have spotted Bruce Wayne exiting the LexCorp building. What could this mean to Gotham's economy? More detail will be revealed as the story develops…."

To pas the time quicker, Frank unzipped his back pack and pulled out his note book to review his latest doodle. It wasn't much detail wise but it managed to resonate with the deeper parts of his psyche and inspire something that he hadn't felt since the last time Mother Patrick sent him under doctor Varma's knife….

Fear.

He remembered the crushing weight of true absolute fear clearer than he did anything else that happened on that horribly rainy day. He remembered the sound of metal collapsing under pressure as his family van rolled of the road after one of the wheels gave way, he remembered shards of glass ripping through his shirt and digging into his skin, and the momentary bouts of weightlessness, but above all else he remembered the fear.

He remembered the smell of gasoline being drowned out by a steady flow of blood and his father's words were lost to the rhythmic pounding in his ears.

He remembered that white hooded figure, depicted in his rough drawing, approaching the car with a long blade in hand and then a blast of red energy that sent it flying back.

"At Gather House, each one will be remade they can save the city long decayed."

Frank quickly closed the notebook and carelessly threw it into his back, but by then they'd already crossed the bridge and were well into Miagani island, the gateway to the richer part of Gotham. Frank pushed back the chills that were running up and down his spine at the fragments of haunting memory in an effort to enjoy the public face of Gotham.

This was the part of the city that people actually came to see. The lights, the glamor, and the overpriced gift shops… the hole nine yards. He kept a keen eye on the billboards for any shows that might he might go see if a deal with Luthor could be made. Lion king, Peter and the Starcatchers, not Wicked, Don Giovani, Cats, things that he heard his mom talk about but never really got a chance to go.

Sadly, that part of town was rather small and before he knew it they were passing the old orphanage on the hill and were crossing into Founder's island, that's when his phone vibrated once, indicating that he'd gotten a new email. Frank pulled the phone from his pocket and opened it without hesitation.

He should have hesitated.

The email had come from the office of none other than Lex Luthor himself, typed by his secretary no doubt, and was informing him, in as much of a polite voice as Frank could imagine the richest man in Metropolis having (Which was mocking at best), telling him that he and the board had chosen to follow another proposition from a student at Gotham Academy. It apologized for any inconvenience that this development may have incurred…

"The path is clear, the goal is well in sight."

Frank wanted to scream and thrash and do all those childish things he never really got to do with two scientist parents but he restrained himself. Instead opting to ask the driver a simple question.

"How much to go to china town?" He said in a surprisingly even voice.

"We go by the meter." The cabbie stated bluntly.

"Then please take the Western most gate."

"Sure thing, kid."

XxX

Malcolm "Mad-Eye" Sweeny was having a pretty good day so far, he'd gotten a big breakfast at the Moonlight diner at the junction of 20th and 21st for free, busted some of Falcone Jr. men's teeth in, and gotten a new suit courtesy of the local tailor fit for a man of his size. Now, that wasn't saying he was fat that just meant he was big six feet seven inches and a hulking set of muscles. He was by far the biggest member of Black Mask's crew.

Mad-Eye used to be a boxer, hell he even gave Wildcat a run for his money but that was before some rookie took out his left eye. Of course he killed the brat and was kicked to the curb but he was picked up and given a job perfect for his talent.

Like most members his suit was white, he kept the mask in the glove compartment of new Lincoln MKT for special days, like when the boss needed him to take care of somebody. Currently was overseeing two traitors who thought they could steal from Roman Sionis along with three armed newbies as they dug their own graves.

The bastards were crying and begging like the worthless pieces of scum they were. All of this brought a smile to his ugly scarred face.

His phone rang with the boss's ringtone. He gave the sign and the three rookies opened fire at the thieves quieting them once and for all in a hail of bullets.

"Good morning, Mister Sionis." He greeted respectfully. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

"I need a building cleared." Black Mask' gravely voice rang out through the phones speaker.

"No survivors?"

"No, I want to send a message."

"No problem boss." He said cheerily. "Just send me the address."

XxX

Frank moved dejectedly through the huge crowds of tourists that amassed at the Western Gate for the large market towards an restaurant that went by the name Golden Duck. He wouldn't recommend eating there, the only reason he was even stepping foot in that restaurant was because Professor Chang worked and lived in the floors above.

In that specific order.

The angry teen went inside and without even greeting the owners ascended the stairs. Chang was undoubtedly working in his lab on the second floor, playing with his so-called "secret" project. Frank hadn't realized that he was making a great amount of noise until a bi-spectacled man, who looked to be ninety stepped past the doors threshold holding what frank could only describe as ray gum and aiming it at his face.

The next thing Frank knew was that he was dodging a crimson beam of energy, there was no doubt in his mind that had he been slower by a hair, half of his face would have melted off.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Frank uncharacteristically shouted at the old professor.

"What's wrong with me?" Chang said astonished. "I'm not the one stomping up the stairs like a deranged bull, Franklin. I pay for my privacy, that means no one come up here besides me and you." He said in a matter of fact tone that did nothing for Frank's mood as he retreated into his laboratory. "You told me you were coming over at one-o-clock. So, tell me how was is supposed to know you weren't just some hooligan here to rob me?"

Frank followed, feeling that they'd had the same conversation about a thousand and a half times. The lab was pretty modest considering its owner. There were three computers a machine that Frank never asked what it did, a table where the tools and materials were kept, and a black curtain that hid a section of the room.

Chang pulled a stool from underneath the tool table

"Luther didn't take the proposal." Frank said taking the seat offered to him.

"I know." Chang said dismissively.

"What do you mean you know?"

"It means, that had Luthor decided that your method was worth his time, you would still be selling out your mother's legacy for quick money." He said stepping behind the curtain. "You're lucky I almost finished with my project or I would have kicked your ass from here to Jump city.'

Ah, now that was a familiar argument.

Professor Chang did not approve of Frank idea of selling his parents' formula and he did not keep it a secret. The amount of times Frank had caught the old man guilt tripping him had risen in the month approaching the meeting.

"I didn't have a choice."

"Yes, you did." The professor said from behind the curtain. "You could have kept quiet and worked."

"And let Joe wither away in this fucking city."

"Watch your tongue boy or I'll wash it for you!" He humphed. "Your brother is a simple man. He is happy that he has you in his life, where he is or how busy he is doesn't matter as long as he has you."

There was heavy silence between them, but it was one that drained the agitation from Frank but not the hunger or the exhaustion. So, he sat there unmoving, waiting for Chang to ask him to do something. After a good twenty minutes, the Professor finally broke the silence.

"Come here."

Frank nearly fell from his seat at the suddenness of the command but did as he was asked. He didn't even realize he was crossing the curtain until he was staring a the most badass piece of tech he'd seen since that one time Harper actually managed to get a picture of the Batmobile.

It was a suit unlike anything he'd ever seen. Its main body was mostly black with exception of a large shining Red X that ran the length of its chest; the boots, hands and fore arms were grey; the helmet/cowl was mostly black but had a stylized white skull covering the face portion and another red was stamped on it forehead; the suit also had a grey utility belt with an a smaller x on the buckle.

"This is the product of eight years of research and countless sacrifices." Chang said reverently, as if speaking about something that greatly touched soul. "Your parents helped design its prototype, your mother found a way to power this suit nearly indefinitely, your father made it so a normal human could wear it, a nameless boy gave it an identity, and I gave it my life."

Frank took a step forward and ran his hands over the shining red x on the armors chest. "Your life?"

"I gave away valuable time I could have been advancing my career to honor your parent's last project and the amount of money I spent on materials was astronomical." He said clicking his teeth together. "If that's not giving one's life away I don't want to know what is."

"I don't know what to say…" And Frank meant those words. He never suspected professor Chang to be the honorable type, nor did he know what his parents wanted with a super suit, but all that palled to the fact that his parents had built something so marvelous…

"You will say nothing and put it on."

Frank did as he was told. Quickly, he took off his clothes and put them in his backpack, he then proceeded it on without further instruction of Professor Chang. The suit felt like molded to his skin but not in an uncomfortable way, it felt… right for lack of a better word. The moment he closed up the suit, he didn't feel tired or hungry but instead he felt stronger and healthier than he ever had.

"The suit is composed of-" Chang never got to finish his sentence he was torn apart by a series of bullets coming from beneath the floor. Frank Immediately went to cover his face and eyes. The shooting continued for half a minute but by that point professor Chang was an unrecognizable pile of red meat, bone fragments, and blood splatter and Frank he was physically fine having been protected by the suit, mentally he felt numb.

He'd seen plenty of death in Gather Hose, especially if Seventeen was involved, but nothing like this. Professor Chang had been some one he actually gave a damn about even if it was below the woman that gave him the occasional fruit and like nothing they just killed him…

Instinctively Frank grabbed his backpack, that was now riddled with bullets and secured it on his back.

Frank wasn't about to blindly attack the men responsible, they had guns and he… he wasn't exactly sure what he had. He didn't know the amount of damage the suit could take or its combat capabilities…

Ensnared by his frantic thoughts Frank didn't notice the heavy steps coming up the stairs until the door flew open. This inadvertently caused Frank's right hand to brush over the utilitybelt's buckle.

The next second found Frank standing atop the rooftop across the street from the Golden Duck. He could see the carnage from his new vantage point and it wasn't pretty. There were bodies in the street covered in glass, which meant the shooters opened fire once inside. He could spot at least seven dead or dying. One of them stepped out of the restaurant.

A big man in a white suit who wore an unmistakable black mask. Though he couldn't understand what was being said he could hear how relaxed the murderer was, Frank would almost dared to say happy but that didn't feel right either.

Frank stood there for a moment longer, unsure what to do next.

That was until he turned around and ran. There was no destination in mind he just needed to get away.

His mind reeling from shock failed to register the edge of the rooftop and promptly fell into an empty back alley. He hit the fire escape, which caused him to land on his head. The suit absorbed the blows but he didn't get up.

Instead he just closed his eyes for what would feel like a second but before he did he heard Mother Patrick's horrible voice.

"At Gather House, the world can be set right".

XxX

When Frank finally opened his eyes the sun had gone down and the moon was high in the sky. Frank pushed himself off the cold ground and slowly pulled himself upright as his mind processed the days events.

Chang was dead.

Luther gave the job to someone else.

He hadn't eaten

And he got a super suit.

Frank almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. He needed to distract himself…

...So he started walking, towards what he considered to be home.

It would take him hours but hopefully he would be able to make sense out of everything.

And so the hours passed and eventually he made it back to the Narrows via sewers but he did. He came up about two blocks away from his apartment and by that point in the night the streets were clear, so he didn't have to worry about people freaking about the suit.

He made it to the front door but froze when he saw the door open. A second later, Frank heard someone scream and assumed that Joe was being attacked. He rushed in and saw group of teens some he recognized from the neighborhood other's he didn't repeatedly kicking huddled body between them. He didn't give them a warning, he flew into action slamming his armored fist into anything that moved occasionally hearing the crack of bones as they snapped. He heard things like: "It's the Bat!" and "Batman?!" It didn't matter who they thought he was as long as they got the hell out of the building. He swung his fist blindly, connecting to whichever body was unlucky enough to be in the path of his fits. Their bones gave way under the unrelenting force of the suit. They tried to fight back but the hits they managed to land on the armored body barely registered in Frank's enraged state. Every strike that they landed simply spurred him to fight harder, more violently until hthe faceless mass of invaders made their escape.

Seeing as there was no one else to fight shouted, releasing all the rage and hurt in what sounded like a synthetic roar thanks to the suit's voice distortion device.

Frank was brought back by the whimpering sounds of the beaten body behind him. The armored teen felt horrible as wave of relief flooded him when he spotted the familiar form of Cullen instead of his brother, but that relief was only temporary as he noticed his friend's condition.

Without thinking Frank picked Cullen up in his arms and rushed into his apartment.

His brother kept a plethora of first aid kits scattered in the living room, his hop was that he could help his friend.

Frank set him on the couch and took off towards the kitchen. He filled a bag of ice from the fridge, snatched a bright red first aid kit, and dutifully returned with both items promptly in his hands. He then tore open the kit, grabbing a wipe that already had anti bacterial alcohol on and was about to dab it on the affected area when Cullen's eyes flew open and he recoiled at the sight of him.

Without thinking frank unclasped the helmet and threw it across the room. "Cullen!" He shouted when his friend tried to strike him, with one hand he pinned both flaying hands and with the other he forced Cullen to look at him. That was when Frank noticed the full extent of what they'd done to him, sure they beat the living snot out of him but they also tore out pieces of his hair, cut others, but there were patches were it had been ripped. "It's Frank!" The boy seemed to relax before he started rambling between sobs.

"I-I tried to stop-them." He said through tears. "I promise I tried."

Frank didn't know what to do… he had never been in the position where he needed to be the one comforting another, so he did the only thing he could possibly think of he released Cullen's hands and with that arm soothingly he began patting his back.

"You did great, Cullen." He said trying to get him to relax so he could tend to his wounds.

"I th-thought they were going to kill me, Frank…" He said taking a big gulp of air. "But they just wanted to hear me scream…" Tears were flowing down freely now and try as he might Frank couldn't deny the bubbling want to get back out there and hunt those bastards down. "What kind of people-." Cullen suddenly gave out to exhaustion allowing Frank plenty of time to start disinfecting wounds and bandaging what needed to be bandaged.

Once he was done, Frank calmly walked over to his helmet. He picked it and made his way to his room where he quickly shed the armor, storing it under the bed and changed into the clothes that were in his backpack.

There were holes in them but no one would notice in the dim lighting.

He came out just in time to see his front door open and after the day he just had he could be excused for pulling out the batarang. Harper came in dressed in a beautiful red dress with her hair braided spectacularly, and for once she dint have the nose ring… it was a shame that her faced was etched with worry.

Frank relaxed but not before she spotted him with the metal bat shaped ninja star in hand. "What happened?" She asked in that voice she reserved for the most dire of circumstances. It was a valid question and sadly one Frank very weak answer for… besides the obvious.

For what it was worth, he wanted to explain but the words refused to form. He wasn't sure if it was the shock settling in, or if Harper's beauty had taken his breath away, or if his frizzled mind had finally decided to say fuck it, but he was sure that whatever was going to happen matters weren't helped by the loud growl that had originated in his stomach.

The day just seemed to go on forever.

XxX

A/N: Here's the story that has delayed me for so long. It just kept bugging me until i took time away from working on my other stories. Basically, i wanted to bring Red X into Prime Earth after rewatching Teen Titans, but i didn't want him to be the very same Red X.

Thus the creation of Frank Lawton. Distant relation to the infamous assassin Floyd Lawton aka Deadshot. His senses and reflexes were enhanced in an attempt to mimic Deadshot's but they were nowhere near as accurate.

Gather House is a School in which the students are augmented depending on the experiment and the demand. This was introduced in DC/Vertigo comic MOTHER PANIC. They were basically a lab with no true direction from what i can tell.

Now this is a tricky one,So far i've narrowed it down to one of three potential pairings.

1) Raven- Rachel Roth

2) Bluebird- Harper Row

3) Cheshire- Jade Nguyen

but since the story is starting out i'm more than willing to hear suggestions.

Just write in the reviews which one you'd vote for or your suggestion.

On a another note: looking for a beta PM if interested.

Please be sure to check out my other works and leave review.

Happy trails.