Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Ahhh well.

A/N: Alright, y'all begged me so it's finally here–the next chapter. Sorry it took so long. I was down in Texas attending Air Force Basic Military Training. So now I'm back as Airman Iarejedi. And no I'm not lying. I am seriously officially owned by the government now. However, it won't effect my writing anymore. Be happy. Anywho, without further ado!

Chapter Four

Nightwing stirred as an ambulance went screaming by beneath the apartment building; it's alarm wailing like some dying animal in the stillness. He opened his eyes and stretched out his legs then his arms. His whole body felt stiff and sore from sleeping in an awkward position. He'd probably be feeling cramps in his legs for days. His arm throbbed angrily but he ignored it. He glanced around to make sure everything was exactly the way it was when he went to sleep. When he was satisfied he relaxed back against the wall.

Late afternoon sun streamed in through cracked window panes. Dust moots danced in the air between sunbeams, causing him to sneeze. Everything was calm and he liked it like that. He checked his injured arm to see that it was healing properly. It was still very painful. The fight last night had reopened the gash. He did not have the things he needed to take care of it. He had used the rest of what little first aid materials he carried with him last night. As long as he didn't get it infected it should be alright until he could find what he needed.

He pulled the bag of donuts over to him, peering into it. There was enough there for another two meals if need be. He picked up a plain one and sat back to enjoy it. As he munched, he tried to go over all his options. He needed to find out where he was. He was at risk not knowing anything about the city he was currently residing in. Somehow he had to change out of his costume as well. He had to be able to move about more freely and his costume did not exactly allow him to do so. He didn't think shop owners would love to have him walk in all blooded up as well as wearing a mask. It wouldn't go down to well. They would mostly likely call the cops on him. He also needed some real food. As much as a he loved donuts he couldn't live off them forever.

Maybe if he could find a bank he could get some money and get a few the things he required. This idea brought him back to the problem of where he was. He had no clue where he was supposed to look for a bank in this city. This city felt like Gotham, and reminded him of Gotham besides some major differences. Perhaps, it was just his want to go back home that was making him see this city that way. This place was different. He remembered the Jokerz and that dude with the red bat on his outfit. If this was Gotham what had happened to it?

He turned his gaze back to the window. Judging by the light it was nearly sun rise. He would hang out here for another few hours before heading back out. Maybe this time he'd find some of the answers he needed.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Terry walked into the Batcave and dropped his backpack on the examining table. It had been a hard day down at the library with Max, looking up every bit of information they could find on Nightwing. It was the same with Nightwing's files as it had been with Dick Grayson's. They all stopped in the same place. Nightwing's last known appearance had been in Metropolis. Everything about Nightwing seemed to be complicated. His brain felt close to overloading from so many things having been absorbed into it in such a short amount of time.

He scratched Ace behind the ears before heading toward Bruce. The old man was sitting in his usual spot in front of the Bat computer console. He stopped beside the computer and leaned casually against it. Bruce gave him a withering look and he immediately stood up straight again.

"You're late," was all Bruce said in greeting.

Terry rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I'm here at all. My mom was threatening to make me stay home to watch my little brother later tonight. Thankfully Max took the job for me."

Bruce grunted in reply. Terry took that as a good sign.

"So is that blood analysis finished?" Terry broke the uncomfortable silence; well it was uncomfortable for him. Bruce could go for hours without saying a word. Terry would die if he had to.

Bruce sighed and sat back in his chair. "Yes, but with some unexpected results."

Terry waited a long moment for Bruce to elaborate on the subject, but the old man sat as silent as ever.

"Unexpected…?" Terry prompted.

"The blood is matched to someone that has been considered to be dead for 30 years," Bruce looked much older than normal.

"Who?"

Bruce looked up at him. Terry was surprised to see a mixture of emotions in those eyes that was rarely ever there. Bruce leaned over and hit a key on the computer. A picture popped up on screen and Terry's mouth fell open. "Nightwing."

Terry stared at the picture of the long black haired, stern faced young hero he had been researching about all day. He was stunned into a silence for a long moment. "But he's dead, you said so yourself!"

Bruce nodded.

"Then how? That guy couldn't have been him!" Terry felt like his brain was now close to exploding. "Maybe someone stole some of his blood or his corpse or something and cloned him–!"

"Impossible," Bruce broke in.

"What?"

"His body was never buried or recovered," Bruce stated. "And all previous blood he ever donated has long since been distributed."

Terry stared at him dumbly for a moment before blowing up. "You said he was dead! If there's no body that means this guy could still be alive?"

"I said he was considered to be dead."

Terry shook his head in disbelief. "So you're saying there's a possibility this might be the real Nightwing!"

Bruce gazed up at him unperturbed. "Possibly, but I highly doubt it."

Terry gave him a "you-must-be-insane" look. "And why is that?"

"The circumstances under which Nightwing disappeared were very suspicious. It is hard to determine whether he might have lived through it or not, but seeing as he hasn't been seen for thirty years, I think he's dead," Bruce replied.

Terry just felt even more confused. "Disappeared? Like gone without a trace, which would explain why all his records all stop in the same place?" Terry knew he must sound crazy but he didn't care.

Bruce nodded again.

"What circumstances are you talking about?" Terry sighed, forcing himself to calm down and think clearly.

Bruce answered quietly. "It is all very unclear, but I will try to explain it to the best of my knowledge."

He quickly explained to Terry all that had taken place up to the moment of Nightwing's disappearance. It was all rather sketchy and vague at points since the story had been given to Bruce by Robin. Terry was pretty sure he understood the basics of it though, but it didn't make the situation any less confusing. When Bruce was finished there was a long moment of silence.

"So you think that machine threw Nightwing into another dimension?"

"Yes, that is what it was created for. Superman told me that Lois Lane had been sent through it once before and came back alive. I don't know what happened to Nightwing," Bruce replied.

There was another long pause.

"Is it possible that this machine could be made to throw someone into the future, like a time machine? It can obviously do dimensions, so what's keeping it from doing time travel?" Terry began paced back and forth contemplating this aloud. He felt as if all he had done all evening was ask questions.

"It could be, yes, but there's no way of knowing," Bruce remarked.

Terry gave him an exasperated look.

"Star Labs has been closed for two decades. There's no knowing if the machine still works or is even still there. We can't test it to find out if you're theory is correct," Bruce explained.

"Great!" Terry sighed. "So it's anyone's guess."

Bruce did not deem that comment worthy of an answer.

"So who do you think this stranger is?" Terry asked.

"I have no idea." Bruce shrugged.

"So what am I supposed to do then?" Terry inquired with an annoyed expression.

Bruce smirked. "Find out who this black stranger is."

"So, basically, I get to go out and look for a needle in a haystack tonight," Terry grumbled.

Bruce smiled for the first time in a very long time. "Have fun."

Terry stalked away. "I hate you."

Bruce looked over at Ace, who lifted his head and whined quietly. Bruce pet the dog's head and smirked to himself. Yes, sometimes life had its high points.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Nightwing moved swiftly through the night like a shadowed wraith. No one noticed his passing in the streets below. He jumped and ran from roof top to roof top with practiced ease. He did not know exactly where he was going but continued on his way. Something in his subconscious knew where he was and where to go. He followed his instincts with complete faith that he would find what he wanted eventually.

He hunched down behind a sign as a car flew by overhead. He watched it go with a strange look. He still was not used to having to dodge traffic this far up. It was hard to believe all that he had seen and learned in the last few days. He still could not understand the familiar feel to this city. It felt like he had been here before, like he was coming back to an old friend. His mind wanted him to believe that it was Gotham. Yet, it seemed so different from his city in so many ways and not at all in others. The feel of the city was the same as Gotham at night, but during the day it was like a whole other place.

He got up and went on his way. Soon he found himself in the downtown area of the city in an old warehouse district. This place felt like home to him. He lived in an abandoned warehouse in Gotham that he called his loft. He had fixed it up the top two stories to become his headquarters from which to work out of. He found it odd that he had come to this place. He wandered along the top of the warehouses, letting his senses guide him. He felt like something was calling him here. He picked up his pace, jogging along the roof of one building to jump to another.

He skidded to a stop in mid-jog. He had just heard something out of place here, a sound that did not belong. A sensation of wrong pervaded the area. He stood, poised, for the sound to come again. He did not have to wait long. A muffled gun shot split the night air. It was close by. He moved to the edge of the roof and waited again, every part of him alert now. Another shot rang out, or at least what he thought were gun shots. The sounds were slightly different then the normal gun shot sounds. It did not matter. He was now able to pin point were the disruption was coming from. It was a warehouse two buildings down from where he stood.

He quickly made his way toward that warehouse and leapt as quietly as possible onto the roof. He did not want to alert whoever it was in there to his presence. He paused, listening for any other sounds from inside the warehouse. He began to pull out the line of a grappling hook then anchored it to the edge of the roof. He lowered himself over the edge, carefully, backing himself down the side of the building. He found a window about half way down. Perfect. He picked the lock and swung it open. It was to dark to see anything inside. He took his chances and dropped in.

He crouched by the window for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He had landed in an office. Not to bad. Another gun shot made him freeze in the middle of the room. It was far enough away from him to be of no concern at the moment. He opened the door to the office and peered out.

Nothing.

Silence.

He went out, shutting the door cautiously behind him. He found himself on a catwalk above the bottom floor of the warehouse. He walked to the railing of the catwalk and looked down. Below him were crates, boxes, and various other containers stacked neatly around the floor. Amongst all of this, in the center of the warehouse, were the people responsible for the disruption. A few unconscious security guards were scattered about on the ground. A large van was pulled up into the back of the warehouse, and was being loaded with crates. A small group of ten vibrantly dressed thieves were working frantically to fill the van. He leaned forward, getting a closer look at the gang. He felt his whole body stiffen in recognition.

Jokerz.

Rage swept through him as he stared down at them. To him the Jokerz were a stupid gang of amateur vandalists and thieves. He didn't think this was their style. Why would they be doing a big job like this? Had someone hired them to do their dirty work? His run in with them yesterday did not leave them in a very high position in his mind. Who would want a group of idiots for a job like this?

He felt hate and contempt swell in him for those petty thieves below him. It was a feeling much stronger than the situation should have warranted. He did not care or stop to analyze why he felt this way. All he wanted at the moment was to hurt them. A dark fog seemed to cloud his vision. Pain surged through him as he felt something trying to take over inside. His breathe seized up in his throat and his chest felt like it was on fire. His whole body shuddered violently with a dangerous energy that had not been there before. Everything else seemed to fade away around him.

Kill them! Kill them!

The voices began to scream in his mind. His hands curled into fists as he let the voices build the rage and malice inside him. He bared his teeth and leapt-

Everything after that became a blur shrouded in black fog. He could see the fear on the clowns' face as he bore down on them and beat them to hell. He could see the Jokerz coming at him and hear their shouts as they attacked him, but it was like he was watching from a distance. It was surreal the way it happened. It was as though something or someone had taken over his body while he remained the spectator. He saw everything in brief flashes of images, all of them violent and blurred with movement. He heard the gunshots, the shouts, and the screams but it was like listening to a badly tuned radio. He could feel the blows on his body as he fought but felt no pain. There was nothing.

Then suddenly it stopped.

He stood in the center of the warehouse, bodies of Jokerz scattered about on the ground like broken dolls. Everything was still and silent. He blinked a few times but nothing changed. Had he done all this? He walked over to a Joker and leaned over to check his pulse. A wave of relief washed over him as he felt the strong throb of a heart beat beneath his fingers. One by one he checked them all, praying silently that none had been killed. He was relieved to find that all of them were still alive.

He was just checking the last one when he heard a soft thump behind him. He whirled about to see the black costumed man from the two nights before standing with his back to him. Anger swept through him as glared at the black masked character's back. He kept showing up where ever Nightwing went. Was the guy following him? He didn't really care. He was tired of it. He felt the dark fog closing in on him once more. He reached down and picked up a gun that had been dropped sometime during the earlier fight. He strode purposely toward the black intruder, gripping the gun tightly. The voices in his head were growing louder once more, but he pushed them down. They would not help him now. The dark fog seemed to fade with the voices. He felt a sense of relief run through him as they did. He stopped just behind the intruder, cocked the gun, and aimed it at the back of the black intruder's head. It was time to get some answers. The costumed man paused mid-step-

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Batman froze at the sound of a gun being cocked right behind his head. He turned slowly around, back rigid and hands in the air. His jaw dropped and eyes widened as he saw who was holding a gun to his head. He was staring into a masked face that was all too familiar.

"Move and I won't hesitate to shoot you," his assailant spoke in a low voice.

His captor was none other than Nightwing. He knew it was the real Nightwing, but how it was even possible staggered his mind. There was no way the masked "stranger" could be anyone else. He had seen enough pictures of the long thought dead hero to know that face. He had stared at all the information of this guy for hours earlier that afternoon. He would have to be completely blind not to believe what was in front on his face. There was just one big difference between the real Nightwing and the pictures–the expression on his face. It was total devoid of emotion and hard as stone, there was no trace of humanity at all.

"You're dead," he managed to choke out in disbelief.

He glanced down at the gun. It was steady in the black gloved hand. The gun did not shake in the least like it did when so many others had threatened to kill him. The deadly calm on Nightwing's face proved he was not joking. He would kill Batman if he had to. This was a cold, well trained fighter taught by the best. His whole demeanor sent fear tingling down Batman's spin. Never had death felt this close that he could almost see it.

At his words, Nightwing's lip curled up into something that resembled a feral smile. "Obviously I'm not."

Batman lifted his hand slightly as if to dissuade the older hero. He saw Nightwing's finger pull the trigger a touch tighter. He stopped, knowing the masked man had only to pull back the trigger just a little more…He swallowed hard.

"You don't want to live?" Nightwing asked, casually, as though he were asking the time of day.

Batman glanced at the gun once more, which was aimed right at his mouth. One wrong move or word and he would be eating a bullet for dinner. He was at a loss of what he should do. He had never been caught in a situation quite like this before. He knew very little about Nightwing that could help, like what were his motives at pointing a gun at his head! As far as he knew Nightwing did not work like that but then he never knew this guy so how could he be certain? What was he supposed to do?

Nightwing continued talking, as if he didn't notice the fear in his captive's face. "I don't know who you are, but I think I'm entitled to a few answers. Don't you agree?"

Batman nodded slightly.

"Good, maybe if you keep acting like a slightly intelligent person I won't have to shoot you."

Batman felt another shiver of spin tingling fear as well as a stab of anger at the jab at his pride.

"Now, just who are you?" Nightwing asked.

He took a deep calming breath before answering. "You can call me Batman," he tried to keep some of his old confidence in his voice.

A genuine smile appeared on Nightwing's face, but it was a smile that held a sarcastic edge that Batman did not care for. "That's very amusing."

"I am," he growled, angrily.

"Batman would have never gotten himself trapped like this. He also would have had me on the ground bleeding by now," Nightwing told him. "You are not Batman. You're not experienced enough or old enough to be the Batman I know."

"So I'm a little new at this job. Sue me!" he shot back.

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you, smart ass," the white slits narrowed as Nightwing spoke.

Batman straightened his back, bringing himself to his full height, which made him the same height as his captor. He clenched his fists and squared his jaw. He would not let Nightwing intimidate him like this. He had faced worse things than this and lived, hadn't he?

Nightwing had been able to evaluate a few things about his captive during their short exchange. This was a young man, probably a few years his junior from the way he talked and acted. His courage earned him Nightwing's respect. Nightwing however would not let it show. The kid would take it as a sign that he was going to let him go. That was not the case just yet. He wanted his answers and if he let even a little emotion show through then the kid would walk all over him. The kid was too arrogant for his own good. Nightwing calmly snapped a shot off just past his masked captive's head.

Batman tensed in total surprise, taking an involuntary step back. Nightwing was not playing games with him. This was serious. Nightwing would not but up with his sarcastic mouth. He decided he'd better not test his assailant's patience any further. He would, for the moment, wait to make his move.

"Since you apparently think you're Batman, what happened to the previous one?" Nightwing asked out of curiosity's sake. Could Bruce be dead?

"He retired," he answered curtly.

Nightwing snorted rudely. "Somehow I find that hard to believe."

He bit his tongue to keep from saying anything he'd regret. Nightwing noted this with a slight expression of approval. The kid could be taught yet.

"What year is it?"

The question took Batman by surprise. "2035," he replied in confusion.

It was Nightwing's turn to look shocked. Batman shifted uneasily and Nightwing's finger tightened on the trigger once more. "Where are we?"

"In a bad warehouse district of downtown Gotham," he answered slowly, trying to figure out what was going on.

Nightwing looked shaken now. "Gotham…"

"McGinnis!" Bruce's voice came through in his cowl. "What's going on?"

Nightwing heard the voice and his expression darkened considerably. He leaned closer as Bruce repeated the message again when Batman didn't answer. Batman tensed, getting ready to jump. Nightwing caught hold of his throat and pressed his gun to Batman's head, effectively cutting off any ideas of escape. He leaned close to Batman's ear where he had heard the voice.

"Whoever that is, the kid here is currently facing the business end of a gun. Please shut up while I finish talking to him," Nightwing spoke into the radio link.

Nightwing took a step back and spun Batman around so that his back was to him once more. "Thank you for the information. I appreciate it."

He slammed the butt of his gun against the back of Batman's head and watched him crumple to the ground. He didn't feel in the least bit guilty about having done that. In fact, it had been quite satisfying, he thought with a nasty grin. He turned and walked away. In a moment he was gone, having disappeared back into the night like a shadow.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Be a responsible reader and review!

The year Batman said was estimated and is probably not correct. This was the closest I could figure it too. While researching for this story on the director said that Batman Beyond took place about 50 years into the future. That doesn't add up correctly with everything either. So this is the year I'm assuming it is. I know it doesn't work out perfectly but oh well. :)

Thank you to all of you who reviewed and told me they wanted more. It's encouraging to hear that people enjoy your work. Thanks again! I'll see y'all next chapter!