Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising
Shade 2.1

Dr. Wayne called it the Batcave. I had to admit, it was an appropriate name - and technically accurate - even if it did sound more than a little corny.

I drew the line at "Batcomputer," though. That was just silly. It wasn't even really tinkertech. It was a high-end mainframe, loaded with top of the line software, including a few tinkertech programs, but the hardware itself was conventional. I didn't know how it worked, only how to use it, but it gave us a finger on the city's electronic pulse. It sifted through the wealth of data and gave me targets.

Whoever the crossbow-wielding shadow cape was, he'd struck half a dozen times - five muggings and an attempted rape - and didn't seem to care any more about gang affiliations than I did.

It... irked me to be associated with this. Okay, fine. Shadowy caped crusader, doesn't care about pissing off the gangs, but what I was doing mattered. I hit drug houses and brothels and arms depots, and I shut them down. But this? Pinning muggers to walls? That was going too far for too little.

I had to put a stop to it, and not just because the PRT thought it was me.

There had to be a pattern, but I wasn't a good enough detective to spot it just yet, and Mr. Dent didn't have the time to work on our cases directly, so I left the computer crunching the variables.

I needed a break.

Of course, I still had school. Not much generally happened there, though. Clarendon was one of the better schools, so nothing happened on the gang front, and after I made it clear to Nash and the other jocks that I wasn't interested in joining any teams, they left me alone. Nobody wanted someone who wasn't in it to win it, after all.

It was lunch time on a Friday when I met the twins.

"Hi!"

I blinked and looked up. A flustered-looking girl was sitting across from me, with another girl standing behind her, hands on her shoulders. The one behind then rested her arms on top of the other girl's head and grinned. The flustered expression was quickly replaced with annoyance. Both of them were blonde, with the most gorgeous blue-grey eyes. The sitting one was wearing a baggy hoodie, with her hair pulled into a ponytail; her bangs hung over her eyes. In sharp contrast, the standing girl wore a devastating tank top and miniskirt combo and wore her hair loose.

"Hey. Brian, right?" the standing girl asked. At my hesitant nod, she said, "I'm Deidre, and this is my sister Delia."

My gaze drifted down to the girl seated across from me. Once I took a moment to look past the drastically different hair style and clothing, I could see the resemblance. "Twins?" I hazarded a guess, looking back up at Deidre.

"You noticed!" Deidre cheered, giving a little clap. "Most people don't. Anyway, my dear sister would like to know if you're busy this weekend."

I looked back down to Delia, who was blushing furiously and trying to shrink into her hoodie. I cocked an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Given the googly eyes she's been sending your way since you transferred in, yeah, I'm pretty sure," Deidre said, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

I worked my jaw wordlessly for a moment. I had not been expecting that. "Um, well..." I coughed. "I'm not... I..." Then I remembered, and I closed my eyes. "Shit. Actually, I can't. Sorry."

"Oh." Delia looked crestfallen as her sister positively glared daggers at me. She moved to get up.

"No, wait! Really!" I said, reaching out to grab Delia's hand. "Listen, I'm serious. I can't this weekend. This is Dad's weekend with Aisha - that's my sister - and we were planning on spending it together." I tilted my head. "But... next weekend, I should be free?"

"Good. Next Friday night then, pick her up at six," Deidre pronounced.

"But, I..." I trailed off as she walked away, "...don't have a car." Hell, I was still a few months away from getting my license. I looked back at Delia. "Does... does she do that a lot?"

Delia sighed. "You get used to it."

I had told them the truth. It was Dad's weekend with Aisha, so I had to take a different route when school let out so I could walk her to the apartment. Of course, by the time I got there, school had already let out, and most of Aisha's schoolmates were already gone.

"Aisha?" I called, looking around.

"Mister Laborn?"

I turned toward the voice. She had platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, a sharp cut pantsuit, and a very disapproving expression.

"Principal..." I racked my brain for a moment, "...Moore."

"I take it you're here for your sister?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, nodding politely. "Um, where is she?"

"Waiting in my office," she answered. "Perhaps you can explain where your mother is. We left five messages."

I shrugged honestly. "I don't... talk with Mom much. What happened?"

"Your sister got into a brawl with three other girls," she said frostily.

"Did she win?"

Yeah, I know. Dumb. I regretted saying it the moment the words left my mouth.

"You can ask her yourself," she said, her voice somehow even colder, "but make sure she shows up for detention tomorrow, Mister Laborn."

I sighed. "I will, Miss Moore."

"And I suggest you find another outlet for her... energy."

"Yes, ma'am."

It felt good to be boxing again.

No fancy acrobatics, no weapons, no low blows or eye gouging. Just the power and simplicity of the sweet science.

We had been planning a day trip down to Boston on Saturday - Dad's idea - but Aisha's detention pretty much nixed that, leaving me and Dad at loose ends. Dad decided he'd take the opportunity to get some last-minute overtime in, and after walking Aisha to her detention, I headed over to Grant's Gym.

I ducked under Mr. Grant's power jab, then sent in a quick left feint before coming back up with a right hook. He blocked, and-

"Oof!"

-a blindingly fast right cross to the chest knocked the breath out of me and sent me to the mat.

"Not bad, kid," Mr. Grant said as he pulled me up. "You've still got a few things to learn, though."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, dusting myself off.

"He totally kicked your ass, Laborn."

I gave Sophia a mock glare. "You wanna hit the mats, Soph?"

"Anytime, anywhere," she said cockily.

I waved her up. "Well, come on then, shorty."

Her eyes narrowed, and she grinned, vaulting up into the ring. Sparring with Sophia was an interesting experience. It helped my control, so I could precisely measure out the force behind each blow.

And while Mr. Grant had refined her style a bit, when she fought, she still fought dirty, just like the thugs that faced Batman.

She came at me, hard and fast, like she usually did. Despite - or perhaps because of - her small stature, she preferred power moves and disabling strikes. For whatever reason, she preferred to gamble on quick takedowns rather than the softer styles.

I dodged a punch and a kick, then twisted her into a gentle throw, leaning back to avoid a reverse thrust kick.

"Nice try, shorty," I said, "but you'll need longer legs for that to work."

She growled and twisted away. I let her go, and we squared off again.

The rest of the match continued in that vein, though she did manage to land a few hits. It was a refreshing match, and in a weird way, it reminded me of why we were doing this. Sophia and Aisha didn't have much in common, but...

Doc was right. Just getting custody of Aisha wasn't enough. I had to make Brockton Bay a better city for her to call home. And not just for her, but for other kids, like Sophia.

Just one more reason why I had to stop that crossbow vigilante.