CHAPTER 3

Dick watched as 'Alfred' left for the back of the building. Returning to quarters, he assumed. He sighed and tried to work his wrists out of the cuffs yet again. What had happened to the real Alfred? He hoped that his surrogate grandfather was still alive. It was a shame to call the Jokerized Alfred by his 'grandfather's' name. Pennyworth. Mr. Pennyworth. That would work. It was superficially polite, so neither Thomas nor the butler could object to that. He'd reserve the name 'Alfred' for the real man.

He heard footsteps nearby and saw a slender young woman in a leotard approaching him. Atomica. She was Johnny Quick's girlfriend and able to shrink down to molecular size and back again to her original human size. She normally rode around, about an inch tall, on Johnny's shoulder.

"Well, hello there," she drawled, blue eyes sparkling maliciously. "I don't think we've met yet. You're Richard, aren't you?"

Dick smiled back. Maybe he could gain traction with the oldest game in the world. "My friends call me Dick. I'd offer to shake your hand, but I'm all tied up at the moment." He flashed his baby blues at her and hoped the dimples would have their usual effect.

They did. She smiled and began twirling her long hair around one finger. "I'm Rhonda, Rhonda Pineda. Pleased to meet you. Too bad you have to be tied up like that. I hope Superwoman didn't hurt you too bad." She moistened a fingertip and rubbed some dried blood off Dick's cheek. "Want me to kiss it better?" she husked in a low voice.

"I'd never turn down a kiss from a pretty lady," Dick replied, voice equally seductive. "But I could kiss you better with my hands free."

Her smile brightened as she leaned in. "Now, why would I want to do that? I just looooove my men restrained," she murmured and touched her lips to Dick's, then brought her sharp little teeth down hard on his lower lip. Dick recoiled and she let go, laughing at the blood spilling down his chin.

"Rhonda, just what are you doin'?" a male voice came from the other end of the room. Johnny Quick strode over to find Atomica giggling and dangerously close to the new prisoner. Quick's eyes passed from his girlfriend to the new interloper, grinning wickedly. He pushed the girl away from Nightwing and stood tall, cracking his knuckles.

"What are you tryin' to do with my girl?" he said. "You stay away from her, hear me?" He swung and connected with Nightwing's chin. Fortunately, Dick had seen it coming and rolled with the blow, hauling himself upright and spitting blood from his mouth.

"I didn't start anything, Johnny, is it? She came over to me," Dick said. "Why don't you ask your girl?"

"I ain't askin' my girl. I'm askin' you!" Johnny said and grinned even more broadly. "I've heard about you, Dick! You think you got more rights than the rest of us just because you were raised by that billionaire? Well, me and mine, we take what we want and we're just as good as you are." He sneered and bent near Dick's face with the final words, almost nose to nose. "You better mind your P's and Q's or you'll be in a world of hurt, boy!"

Dick had heard about Johnny Allan and Rhonda Pineda, or Johnny and Rhonnie as they'd called themselves. During his captivity in this blasted chair, he'd listened to the Crime Syndicate gossiping among themselves. A modern-day Bonnie and Clyde, they'd robbed banks and murdered their way through multiple cities before an accident at the Earth-3 S.T.A.R. Labs gave them powers.

He'd been dealing with idiot smalltime crooks since he was nine years old, and the old wise-ass Robin flared. "Yeah, well, I've heard that before," Dick returned sneer for sneer. "I'm used to dealing with brain-donors like you."

A lightening quick blow hit his chest and Johnny was back in his place, grinning. "Y'all gonna stay away from my girl, now, Nightwing. Hey Rhonda! Watch this!" He zipped around Dick's chair, raining blows on him from all sides. Johnny soon became a blur surrounding him, the punches and kicks fast and furious, punctuated by Rhonda's giggling at the sport. Johnny was just too fast. Dick rolled with the blows he could see, and endured the ones he couldn't. The chair fell over, with Dick still cuffed to it. He struggled to fight, flip himself over the back of the chair and use it as a weapon, but ended up cowering behind it to protect his most precious body parts. There was nothing for it but to try to survive this idiot. He dimly heard shouting through the red mist before it all went away entirely.


Owlman, followed by Ultraman heard the sounds of fighting and strode into the control room. Grid watched impassively and Rhonda was giggling while Johnny systematically worked at beating their prisoner, the erstwhile Nightwing, to death.

Enraged, Owlman ran forward and tackled Johnny Quick, taking him down to the floor. "How dare you!" Owlman shouted, pounding a cringing Johnny with both fists. "Nightwing wasn't to be touched! Those were my orders!"

Cringing away from Owlman's punishment, Johnny whined, "But he's no good to anybody, anymore. He oughta be disposed of. And why do we hafta watch him? Me and Rhonda got better things to do!"

Ultraman watched with a look of amusement in his red eyes. "He has a point, Thomas," he said with a smirk.

Thomas dropped Johnny with a thump and went over to where Dick lay, still attached to the chair. He felt for a pulse and, finding one, relaxed minutely. He found a key in his belt and unlocked the cuffs, then squatted down next to the boy. Silently, he picked him up in his arms and turned to face Ultraman, face thunderous. "You idiot! You absolute consummate fool!" Owlman said in a low, grating voice. "You have no idea just how valuable this boy is!"

Ultraman, arms folded over his huge chest, glared right back. "He's worthless to our cause, Thomas. You just want him because he reminds you of Talon. Your sentiment has always been your weakness and I won't have it endangering our plans here."

"He knows this world," Thomas said between clenched teeth. "He knows who the major players are, the heroes and the criminals. Do you think that we've cleared all opposition by neutralizing the Justice League? There are dozens of heroes who aren't actively affiliated with the League and this boy knows them all! He might even," Thomas moved closer to Ultraman. "know sources of kryptonite on this planet or which scientists might be able to synthesize it!"

"It scarcely matters," Ultraman shouted. "He's our enemy and he hasn't given us any intel so far. Superwoman worked him over thoroughly and he hasn't said anything. He's worthless. A waste of our effort. "

"Not if he agrees to ally with us," Owlman shouted back. "And I have his agreement. If he sees us as his only friends, we'll have access to that information and his cooperation." He looked bleakly at the toppled chair and the bloodstains that surrounded it. "But it's clear that he's not safe here. I won't gain his trust if I leave him out here to be preyed on by the petty criminals you've gathered to our cause." He turned to leave.

"And just what are you planning?" Ultraman grabbed his upper arm, hard.

"I'm taking him to Gotham, "Thomas said. "It's his home and mine as well, since Batman is gone. He can introduce me to the leading gang leaders and help with the transition to my rule. Doubtless he knows the systems Bruce Wayne set up to run the city."

"While you try to turn him into the Talon you lost. Well, I have news for you, Thomas. Talon is dead and he's not coming back," Ultraman spat. "But I agree that it's a good idea to put some distance between us for a while."

Thomas didn't answer, but strode from the room.


Dick woke slowly, feeling a soft mattress beneath him. Hmmmm, been a while since he'd lain on such a great mattress, almost like he'd had a the manor. He opened his eyes to see familiar surroundings. This was Batman's room at the JLA headquarters and he was in Bruce's bed . He'd been chained to a chair and now...Memory returned. Johnny Quick. He tried to sit up and a dozen aches told him that it was a bad idea. He lifted his right hand and ran it through his hair, noticing the marks that the cuffs had left behind. Not a dream, then. He felt like hell. He lay back, taking inventory. At least one cracked rib, more bruises on his chest, lost a tooth, couldn't breathe through his nose; broken?

"You don't want to touch the splint unless you want your nose to heal crooked," Thomas Wayne, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, came into the room. He looked younger in street clothes, his dark hair running to curls, also looking more relaxed than Bruce ever had. Thomas took a seat in a chair beside the bed and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "I'm sorry about Johnny. He disobeyed orders to leave you alone," Thomas said with a frown, looking even more like Bruce. "He won't bother you anymore. We're leaving here."

"Where are we going?" Dick asked.

"I thought Gotham," Thomas said, eyes on the floor. "With Bruce...gone...Gotham needs a strong hand if it's anything like my own Gotham. I'm hoping that you can help me with that."

Alarm pulsed through Dick's mind. Bruce might be gone, but the identity of Batman wasn't known yet. He hoped. Trying to be casual, he said, "Do you plan to let it be known that Thomas Wayne is Owlman?"

Thomas looked up and smiled. "My reasons for secrecy are, I imagine, very similar to Bruce's. I need a place of safety and privacy during my off-duty hours, so no, I'll just be one of Bruce's relatives taking up residence after Bruce's death."

Pain stabbed deep inside. "Is he?" Dick asked, voice gone suddenly ragged.

"Dead?" Thomas replied, then paused for a long moment. "As far as you're concerned, you should consider him dead and gone."


Miles away, a grubby form dressed in shredded black body armor fought his way up the final mine shaft. Panting, he kicked out the boards that had closed the entrance of the abandoned mine. It was dawn of a bright summer day. Trees and rusted equipment filled the area near the entrance. Clearly nobody had been here in years. He bent down and picked up a piece of old newspaper, stuffed inside the body of a rusted out car. The Sacramento Bee, dated 1976, lay under his hand. He was on Earth, then. Hopefully it was his earth. He'd been able to get out of the pocket dimension before the doorway had closed on the League, leaving them behind.

He found the road and began to follow it, blending into the shadows whenever a car came. At last, he came into a small town and, fortuitously, there was an unattended ATM outside a bank. He pulled a debit card from a pouch and fed it into the machine. He always carried a card for a well-stocked dummy account set up for Matches Malone years ago. The card worked, giving him the maximum allowable amount. It wasn't much but it would buy clothing. Ducking into cover, he removed his cape, cowl and belt, turning his shirt inside out. With the tights, he could arguably be an elite runner in a speed suit.

He found the local 24 hour megastore, all but empty because of the early hour. He quickly bought clothing and dressed, then reentered the store, going to the media department. Each television blared the same pictures. His jaw tightened when he saw what was shown on every channel. The Crime Syndicate claimed to own the planet. At the next image, his eyes narrowed with his brows drawn and his fists clenched. Dick...