Nightwing moved slowly through the corridor. He had already scanned the building for heat sources and had found none. Even so, it paid to be cautious. The horror he had initially found upon entering the building increased with each room he explored and a sickening dread began to form in the pit of his stomach. Silently cursing impulsive archers yet again, he cautiously walked through the doorway of the next room which appeared to be an office of some sort.

The young hero quickly assessed that the room was devoid of life before entering. He ignored the sudden turn of his stomach as his night vision lenses allowed him to clearly see a body slumped against a corner of the room. He'd seen bodies earlier on in his search and didn't have to look at this one to know it would be just as mangled and mutilated as the others.

The acrobat scanned the room then approached a desk that sat at the back of the room. Removing a tiny flashlight from his gauntlet, he switched it on, grimacing when its beam briefly shone across the remains of a woman's body laying on the other side of the room. He turned back to the desk and began to sift through papers that were scattered in disarray over the desktop and floor: medical notes, test procedures, experiment results-–he froze as he unearthed a crumpled file, the photograph on the cover so very familiar. "...Roy?"

Moving quickly, he began flipping through the file's pages. His stomach clenched in both fear and horror as he read the results of the experimental serum used on his friend. "God, Roy…they wanted to make your organs more compatible–wanted to let that sick bastard…." His words choked off and he dropped the file, suddenly realizing there was every chance that his friend was still alive–-that he could find him and help him. He just needed to find out where they had taken him.

Spurred on by both renewed hope–and fear–for his friend, Nightwing approached a nearby filing cabinet and began flipping through its files, seeking any indication of where

Savage might have taken his experiment.

After ten minutes of frantic searching the acrobat had found nothing to give him any information beyond that which he already knew: Vandal Savage's relation to Roy and the need for new organs used up by his body's ability to cheat death; Roy was a perfect blood-type match.

Slamming the bottom drawer shut, he slammed his hand against the side of the cabinet, "Damn it!"

With a growl of frustration, Nightwing spun around and quickly left the room, moving rapidly yet cautiously down the hall toward the next room. He paused at the doorway to scan the area and, just as he'd expected, the floor was littered with bodies--these even more horrifically mutilated than the others. He grimaced, moving the flashlight's beam from one sickening form to another…

"Oh, God!" His heart leapt into his throat as the light beam settled on a familiar emerald-clad figure, "Ollie?"

Even though he knew there was no one alive in the building–-his initial thermal-scan of the area gave back negative findings; no human life within the facility–-Nightwing couldn't help but to feel an irrational surge of hope that just maybe he had been wrong and dropped to one knee at the archer's side. The cold, lifelessness of the body crushed that last remnant of hope and left his senses reeling.

"Dammit, Ollie. Ten minutes, that's all I asked you to wait . . . just ten damn minutes," he murmured softly and then closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his senses once more before he forced himself back to his feet and back to the task at hand. Green Arrow was here–dead, nothing he could do for him–but Speedy was still out there somewhere.

It wasn't as difficult as he had first thought it might be to pick up the younger archer's trail: scattered arrows, a broken bow and even her quiver, torn off undoubtedly during a struggle, lay at random intervals farther down a corridor leading him to an exit door--destroyed and literally torn off its hinges.

Nightwing cautiously crossed the threshold and instantly saw a trail of drag marks, periodically peppered by a dark, gelatinous substance. Stooping down at one of the spatters, he scooped a droplet up and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Just as he had suspected, and what he had hoped it was not, the moist dirt clod instantly fell apart and stained his glove with a dark red smear.

Looking to the positive, Nightwing deducted from the spatters that were fresh enough and light enough that he was closing in on her location and, at the moment, there was a very good possibility Mia was still alive.

With renewed zeal, Nightwing lunged to his feet and quickly followed the drag marks about another fifty yards into the jungle where the trail became increasingly clearer, not just by the sight of broken bushes and crushed foliage, but by the sounds of the young woman's screams that made the acrobat's skin crawl and his gut clench.

The need for stealth at the moment was clearly overrated and Nightwing broke into a sprint down the middle of the trail. The dense jungle foliage was made only slightly easier to navigate by the occasional shaft of moonlight breaking through the canopy of trees.

He could still hear them–her anguished screams–could feel them pulling him as if they had the power to reach into his core being, drawing him closer. Faster and faster, lungs burning, the young hero pushed his body to the ultimate max until the trail of crushed plants that Nightwing was following ended and suddenly he found himself at the edge of a small clearing.

Nightwing silently willed Mia to hang on as the young woman's screams settled into weak, faintly audible sobs. The night vision lenses in the acrobat's mask picked up a cave in the rock wall ahead and there was little doubt that the sobs were coming from inside the dark hole.

Moving stealthily closer, Nightwing approached the cave when suddenly the flash of a huge fist coming his way caused the acrobat to instinctively leap into the air and flip out of reach. He spun to face his attacker, crouching instantaneously into a defensive stance ready for whatever might happen next.

Nightwing froze, every nerve in his body on edge as he waited for the hulking figure in front of him to move. The creature made no effort to attack again; it merely stood still–-quietly staring at the young hero.

"You're big…" Nightwing removed the flashlight from his gauntlet and switched it on being careful not to startle the creature by shining the light directly into its eyes. Instead, he focused the beam on the monster's chest; the light that did reflect on the creature's face was enough to cause an instant surge of recognition, "Roy?"

The animalistic howl that tore from the creature was plenty of warning for the acrobat to move out of the beast's way, "Roy! Roy, is me, Dick."

The young hero's plea for recognition went unheeded as the beast lunged again. The acrobat flipped over the punch that came his way and rolled under a second attempt to strike him.

"C'mon, buddy, there has to be some part of you that still– " He jumped back to avoid the blow from a thick branch the monster had somehow managed to grab, then spun around and launched a flying kick into the beast's hand, trying to force the creature to drop its weapon…

It wasn't often that the young hero underestimated the speed of his opponents. Perhaps the reason he did so this time was the horrifying familiarity of the beast attacking him or the underlying fear of harming this creature that, not too long ago, had been one of his closest friends.

Whichever it was, the result was the same. Nightwing felt the rush of air that signaled another blow forthcoming--white noise and heat exploded at the back of his head as that blow struck home.

A numbed, silent darkness engulfed his entire being.

To be continued...