Chapter Fourteen

"Mikey, I don't like this!" Tommy said worriedly. "How do we know we can trust that mope, Vinnie, who gave us the skinny on the shipment? If Blockbuster gets wind of a second heist, our butts are toast, bro!"

"Chill, Tommy," Mikey responded confidently. He was in his element. Mikey had an instinct for the blitz attack. That's why he'd been so successful during his most recent spate of child snatchings. In the past, he and Tommy tried to entice a kid to come with them. Now, Mikey just took them. Right off the streets.

The same thing with the heist. In the past, Tommy planned their jobs, carefully and meticulously. The brothers enjoyed a modicum of success, hitting pawn shops and liquor stores, businesses with goods easily fenced for quick money. When they first arrived in Bludhaven and were setting up shop in the abandoned low-rent apartment complex, Tommy planned their initial series of heists.

Mikey admired his little brother's ability to plan methodically and leave nothing to chance. But they needed the money they could get for fencing the stolen goods in these trucks. Since the stuff they were gonna steal was already stolen, there'd be no police report. The brothers would be home free.

Tommy saw their exit coming up. "That Vinnie guy said to meet him at the first major rest stop on West I-80. It should be about another two miles up."

Mikey turned to his brother and gently placed his hand on Tommy's arm. "It'll be all right, bro. You'll see...Everything's gonna be all right. I've always taken care of you, haven't I?"

Tommy thought sadly about Mikey's persistent mental downward slide. He was perfectly lucid at the moment, but his angry, almost murderous outbursts were escalating in their frequency. Soon, it would be impossible to control him.

"You're right, Mikey," Tommy said, reaching over and patting his brother affectionately on the leg. "You've always taken care of me, bro." He saw their turn coming up. "Here we go..."


MacCauley checked his watch again. It was getting close to the agreed upon rendezvous time. He picked up his mike and gave his team a heads up.

"All right, boys and girls! On your toes, 'cause it's gonna get noisy in a few minutes. Jennings, your boys in place?"

"Uniforms in place, Mac. How about those overpaid, overdressed, pretty boys of yours with the manicured nails?" Jennings winked at Kelp, who brought his hand up to his head as if a headache was coming on. The Uniforms versus the Suits was an age-old rift in the BHPD.

"Don't know about the manicured nails, but I noticed Winters had a new 'do!" MacCauley replied easily, looking over at Winters who was sitting on the passenger side sipping a soda from an oversized fast food disposable cup. She gave him a sour look.

"Hey, is the good Lady Doc with you, Mac?" Jennings' voice sounded teasing over the radio. "Tell me, is she wearing White Linen? Doc, you wearing White Linen?" Winters almost choked on her soft drink.

"Jennings! How the hell do you know what kind of perfume I wear?" she demanded, half-laughing.

"Doc," Jennings' voice sounded hurt. "I'm a cop, remember? I make it my business to know these things."

"Ignore him, Doc," Kelp's voice broke in. "He hasn't been getting any at home, so he's acting like a--" Suddenly, the area was flooded with the low beams from a set of van headlights.

"This is it!" MacCauley broke in. "Move in, people!"


"I see headlights. It's getting ready to go down, partner," Nightwing reported.

"Right," Batman responded. "Nightwing?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"..." Nightwing paused, surprised. "Hey, 'Careful' is my middle name!"

"Nightwing!" Batman's no-nonsense voice broke in.

Uh-oh, Nightwing winced. "Yes, sir?"

"Good luck. Batman, out."

Nightwing let out a whoosh of air in relief. He turned to the task at hand. The plan was that when the hijackers arrived at the ambush point, the BHPD would close in on Blockbuster's goons before they had a chance to bring down the hijackers. MacCauley's men would make sure that the hijackers got away while holding off the ambush party.

Nightwing's job was to hitch a ride with the hijackers, while Batman's was to follow at a safe distance. If everything went according to plan, hopefully before the night was over, Billy Grady would be back in his parents' arms safe and sound, and the Gunthers would be in custody.


Mikey casually tossed Tommy the brothers' assault weapon of choice, an AK47. They'd carried these babies on their previous heists, but hadn't been forced to use them. Most streetwise punks knew the kind of hurt the weapon's 7.62 millimeter rounds could do. The high-powered weapon could actually pierce light armor.

As a result cops both hated and respected them, since the high-powered round could pierce their standard issue bulletproof vests.

Therefore, even if Blockbuster's goons tried to hide inside the truck's trailer, the AK47s' firepower would be able to penetrate. So far, the automatic weapons had acted more as a deterrent against any resistance, rather than as a murder weapon.

The brothers quickly put on bulletproof Kevlar vests, night vision goggles (NVGs), and heavy ammunition bandoleers. Mikey gave his little brother a cursory check to ensure he was ready, nodded curtly, then carefully opened the van doors.


The highway rest stop lay in quiet stillness. It was a carefully designed oasis, which offered an information kiosk, restrooms, and picnic tables scattered throughout a pleasant, lightly wooded area, for travel-weary motorists. The loveliness of the surroundings was lost on those who waited nervously, trigger fingers itching, foreheads beaded with sweat. Occasionally the unnatural quiet was broken by the sounds of passing traffic on the adjacent Interstate.

It was the calm before the storm.

The silence was suddenly shattered by police bullhorns.

"This the BHPD! You're completely surrounded! Drop your weapons and put your hands up!"

Nightwing checked his chronometer. "Right on time," he said, admiringly. Staying in the protection afforded by the deep shadows, Nightwing quickly made his way towards the van. Taking up a position from where he could observe the action, he waited.

The Gunthers stopped in their tracks. Suddenly, they split in two, running in different directions.

"Take 'em, bro!" Mikey shouted.

"No prob! Eat this, pigs!" Tommy shouted. The night exploded with the distinctive sounds of two Kalashnikov AK47 soviet-made assault rifles. The very air seemed to be raining 7.62 millimeter rounds! A loud scream pierced the night.

"GET DOWN! GET DOWN!" MacCauley shouted.

Their plan forgotten, Nightwing sprang into action. He couldn't allow anyone else to be injured or killed. As he moved, he felt something suddenly whiz past his head. He ducked instinctively, then saw that he wasn't the intended target. A batarang flew true to its mark, striking one of the gunmen on the temple.

"Aiii!" Tommy screamed, falling to his knees.

"TOMMY!" Mikey cried, running towards his brother, giving covering fire. "Hang on, bro! I'm coming!"

Seeing his opening, Nightwing was about to take off, when a dark figure swooped in, landing squarely on Mikey's back, knocking him down. Batman spun and kicked out viciously, connecting with his opponent's unprotected chin. Mikey went down like he'd been shot.


The BHPD quickly closed in on the truck with the stolen goods. SWAT members in dark jumpsuits, flak jackets, and helmets, heavily armed with military style assault rifles, stormed the truck, front and back. Sgt. Jennings, the senior uniformed officer on the scene, and his partner Officer Kelp led the assault. They both had Special Weapons Assault Team training and usually rotated through the SWAT roster at least quarterly to maintain their active status.

The area around the truck was suddenly saturated with hot lead. Sprinting like a jackrabbit, Kelp dove under the truck, his heart beating rapidly. He was quickly joined by Jennings.

"God, I hate my job," Kelp muttered. Jennings turned and gave him a broad grin.

"What? You want to live forever?"

Kelp grinned weakly. "And miss all this?" he returned. Breathing in short, quick gasps, he asked, "What now, fearless leader?"

Jennings calmly removed a small rectangular packet from his ammo bandoleer. Plastique! He grinned wolfishly.

"Always have a Plan B!" he said.

Kelp gave him an admiring look. "That's why you're a sergeant, and I'm just a lowly beat cop!"


Nightwing waited impatiently for Batman's move. He saw Batman turn his back on his opponent. That was the opening Mikey needed. Lightning fast, Mikey swung his weapon and struck Batman on the back of his head. Batman obligingly went down on his knees. Not satisfied, Mikey then kicked him, first in the head, then the ribs with all the force he could muster.

Nightwing winced at the punishment that his mentor was willingly taking.

"Mikey, we gotta get outta here, bro," Tommy said, desperately. He'd recovered sufficiently to stand up, but was still woozy from the hit to the head. Mikey quickly picked up Tommy's weapon. Then grabbing his brother by the arm, Mikey helped him back to the van, all the while saturating the area with hot lead. With Batman down, and the BHPD currently occupied, they could just make their getaway.

Slipping silently through the shadows, Nightwing waited, then as the Gunthers zoomed past him, he leaped onto the van's roof.


As soon as the Gunthers' van screeched towards the rest stop's exit ramp, Batman leaped to his feet, running. He hurried to where they'd parked Nightwing's latest addition to his crime-fighting inventory, his converted Robin Cycle. Nightwing's natural talent for automotive design and engineering resulted in a completely new bike.

Sleekly black with a midnight blue racing stripe in the shape of a wing flying across the front and down the sides, the 'Wing cycle had enough horsepower to take on all comers in the Metropolis 500. At least, that was the somewhat exaggerated boast that Dick made when he'd showed it off earlier.

Besides a miniaturized racing engine, Nightwing also installed twin turbo rocket boosters for emergencies. Batman shook his head ruefully. This from a kid who still wouldn't clean his own room. He activated the bike's stealth tracking device. It immediately homed in on a micro-transmitter located in one of Nightwing's gauntlets.


"NOW!" Jennings shouted. The SWAT explosives man sprinted for cover just as the truck's double doors blew outwardly. Before the smoke cleared, the SWAT team was swarming all around the exterior of the truck's large storage compartment. The team automatically formed a cordon around the vehicle, weapons at ready.

Jennings gave Kelp the go ahead signal. Kelp nodded, then motioned for two of the officers to join him. The three utilized classic evasion maneuvers as they cautiously approached the truck's opening. Kelp held up his hand, then signaled "one, two, three" with his fingers. As soon as Kelp reached "three," he and the other two officers vaulted onto the back.

Kelp immediately felt a warning signal go off in his head. He quickly scanned the trailer, his weapon ready. Empty. Nothing. Nada. Not even one G.I. Joe. He reached up for his mike.

"Boss, something ain't kosher! Place is empty," he reported. "Wait! I see something."

"What? Kelp, what is it?" Jennings' insistent voice came over his ear receiver.

"A light of some kind. Small, red, and it's blinking...Uh-oh!"

"KELP! GET OUT OF THERE! NOW!" Jennings' voice screamed in his ear, but Kelp was already running towards the van doors.

"CLEAR OUT!" he screamed. Officers standing outside the truck suddenly took off, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the truck.

As Kelp and the other two officers went flying out the back doors, the whole thing blew up behind them.

Kelp felt himself lifted as if by a pair of powerful hands and hurled bodily. As the wind rushed against his face, he had the oddest sensation that he was flying. Funny, I wonder if this how Batman feels, he thought. Then blackness claimed him...


As soon as Batman left in his souped-up "Batcycle," MacCauley and his team of "overdressed" investigators took off after him. Jennings could handle this end of things without MacCauley or his detectives. Besides, this was MacCauley's murder investigation, and he would be damned if some guy in a spooky batsuit was gonna take his collar.

MacCauley wanted the Gunthers. He wanted them real bad.

As MacCauley concentrated on his driving, thoughts of his earlier meeting with the two vigilantes kept intruding. There was something about them that kept niggling at his subconscious...

The "Batcycle" suddenly pulled ahead.

Whoa! MacCauley's mind came whipping back to the present. That Batguy was really flying! MacCauley almost couldn't keep up. He pushed down on the gas pedal, gunning the engine to over 100 mph. MacCauley thanked The Powers That Be that had decided to procure these super-turbocharged, wide-bodied sports vehicles for the BHPD fleet.

These babies were a far cry from those boxy-looking 1940s jobbies that they'd had before. This beauty could really roll! But MacCauley was still having problems keeping up with the Bat. At last, he spotted the twin, turbo exhausts up ahead from the "Batcycle." MacCauley settled back down, again.

"Lauren?" MacCauley said tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"I know this sounds really crazy," MacCauley said hesitantly, "but I can't help shaking the feeling that Batman and Nightwing remind me of someone."

"Yeah," Winters said. "Someone right out of Friday the Thirteenth!" She shivered. "Especially that Batman! Did you see how he just seemed to appear out of no where?"

MacCauley grinned, nodding. "Nightwing's all right, though. Seems like a nice enough kid, actually, if a little snot-nosed. But, you're right, Batman's right up there with Freddy Kruger!"

"What's the matter, David?" Winters teased, agreeing with him, but nevertheless laughing at the ludicrous image. "Has Davey been forcing you to watch horror movies again?"

"Natalie calls it 'quality time,'" David said smiling sheepishly. "I don't know why, though...I mean, I end up watching half the movie with my eyes closed!"

"How To Filet Your Neighbor In Ten Easy Steps," Winters said, snorting softly. "Yeah, I can see why your wife would view this as a warm and touching moment!"

"What I can't figure," MacCauley said, semi-awed, "is how Jim Gordon has managed to work with Batman all of these years? I mean, I've only met the Bat once, and I'm still shaking from the experience."

"Maybe it's because Gordon knows who the man behind the mask actually is!" Winters replied, shrugging.

MacCauley looked at her speculatively.

"Lauren, I know this sounds incredibly stupid, but..." He shook his head suddenly, struck by the ridiculous thought. "Oh, forget it!" he said, instead.

But the nagging idea wouldn't leave MacCauley's head. Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson: Batman and Nightwing! Sheesh! David MacCauley, you're out of your friggin' mind! He turned back to his driving.

The unmarked vehicle moved quickly through the night in silent pursuit of a man who looked like a living nightmare, who was himself in pursuit of two human monsters...


Chapter Fifteen

The waterfront "D" Street Projects were a '70s experiment in social engineering that failed. The US Department of Housing and Urban Development awarded matching funds to the City of Bludhaven to provide a self-governing, low rent apartment complex in a beautiful bayside setting for its lower income citizens. While the project was initiated with much fanfare, it never actually came to fruition.

Between contract disputes, poor engineering specs, high employee accident rates, and missed milestones, the project went bankrupt. Today, the empty skeletons of the finished buildings stood as a sad monument to the rampant organized corruption of Bludhaven City officials.

As the van moved slowly through the winding streets of the abandoned neighborhood, Nightwing looked around, amazed at the prime waterfront property that was going to waste. Even with the thousands of former Gothamites swarming into Bludhaven and in need of proper housing, the local city government still hadn't done anything to renew this project. Nightwing shook his head in disgust.

"I guess you really can't fight City Hall," he muttered.

The van eventually pulled up to what would have obviously been an underground parking facility. As the van wended its way carefully around discarded rubble from abandoned building materials, Nightwing couldn't believe what he was seeing. This place was almost entirely finished! With just a few additional dollars, the City could actually complete it and make housing available to hundreds.

Why wouldn't they, Nightwing wondered? He slapped his forehead. Duh! Come on, Grayson, this is Bludhaven, remember? Still, maybe if he dropped a dime with a certain billionaire philanthropist that he knew? After all, Bruce would then be helping out his displaced Gothamites, wouldn't he?

As the van creeped to a stop, Nightwing looked around, and spotting a likely hiding place near the ceiling rafters, he leaped into the shadows in a single graceful motion.


As soon as Batman saw that the van was pulling into the abandoned water front projects, he parked the 'Wing cycle in the shadows and took to the rooftops. Keeping the van in sight, he glided easily through the night. Adjusting his mask's built-in Starlite lenses, he spotted Nightwing still clinging to the van's roof.

Batman took a moment to smile slightly. He felt a momentary flash of pride at the sight of his adopted son, who'd obviously grown into his own here in Bludhaven. He recalled the comment that Al the Eraser made to Nightwing: "Bludhaven's your town, kid!"

"He's right, 'kid'. Bludhaven is your town!"

The van drove into an underground parking garage. Batman leaped into the night...


"Sound off!" Jennings called.

"Garcia!"

"Thompkins!"

"Lee!"

Steadily each of the twelve members of the SWAT team reported in, until two names remained unaccounted for.

"Kelp! Roberts!" Jennings called. "Report!" Silence. "Kelp!" No reply. "Okay, people! Spread out! Three hundred sixty degree search radius! We have two officers down!" Jennings turned to his electronics specialist. "Thompkins!"

"Yo, Sarge!" Thompkins came running up.

"See what you can do about the magnesium lights! Maybe the mopes just pulled a switch and didn't blow 'em out or something."

"I'm on it!" Thompkins took off.

Jennings double-timed to the SWAT van. He immediately put out the radio call.

"This is SWAT ONE! We've had an explosion here! I have two officers unaccounted for. I need the bomb squad and Emergency Rescue ASAP at the Interstate Eighty-West Rest Stop located off Exit Two. Repeat. I need the bomb squad and Emergency Rescue...!

MacCauley's voice came on immediately afterwards.

"SWAT ONE, who are the missing officers?"

"Corporal Roberts and..." Jennings paused. "Corporal Roberts and Officer Kelp."

"Sergeant Jennings!" Officer Lee, a young female rookie waved to him. "We've found Corporal Roberts! He's hurt bad...took a round in the shoulder, and he's lost a lot of blood!"

Jennings ran up to where Roberts was lying prostrate on the ground.

"Robbie," Jennings said quietly. "You trying to be a hero again?" Roberts grimaced from the pain.

"Damned Army surplus flak jackets," Roberts gasped. "Can't stop a peashooter...how can they be expected to stop a seven point six-two round...?"

"Hey, now...we got those nifty new cars, didn't we? Can't expect City Hall to cough up more money to replace a perfectly good, if worthless, vest! After all, you know what they say..." They both finished together.

"You can't fight City Hall!" Robbie grinned through the pain, struggling to maintain his hold on reality, but eventually lost the battle.

Jennings studied him for a long moment. Finally, he turned to Lee. "Do what you can for him..." Lee nodded.

The area was suddenly bathed with the bright, almost blue-white light from high wattage magnesium floodlights. At least one thing was going right for them, Jennings thought.

"Sarge! We found Kelp!"

Jennings sprinted in the direction of the voice. Oh, God, please don't let me be too late!


MacCauley parked the unmarked cruiser in the shadows between two abandoned apartment buildings. He'd seen the van's taillights disappear into an underground garage. MacCauley signaled the tail vehicle to come up behind him.

"Lauren, were you able to pull up the old building plans?"

Winters looked up from the small monitor she was closely studying. She nodded distractedly. As the Chief of the Violent Crimes Division, MacCauley rated a laptop computer installed in his cruiser. The system was fully networked with the BHPD and, if one knew the access codes, or knew how to gain access, the City's secure system was also available.

"Yeah, the architectural group, East End Construction, managed to meet at least one milestone," she said ruefully. "They filed their plans with the City Planning Commission, and then didn't seem to do anything else." She hurriedly keyed in a few commands.

"Give me another sec..." She typed some more. "That's it!" Winters looked up with a small grin.

The carload of officers in jackets with the letters BHPD boldly written across the back emerged. MacCauley quickly set up a command post on the trunk of his vehicle. He placed the laptop on the car, and the officers gathered around him.

"Phil, you and Marty will take up positions here and here..."


Billy heard noises outside his door. His heart started beating rapidly, his breaths came in short, quick gasps. He moved as far to the corner of the bed as he could. Mikey handcuffed him to the bed before they'd left, and Billy had rubbed his tiny wrist raw from trying to squeeze his hand through it.

The cuffs were wet with blood already, making them very slippery. However, he just couldn't slip his hand through. Billy felt the tears start spilling again. The sobs came faster. He quickly hid his head under the pillow, so that the monsters wouldn't hear him.


Mikey eased Tommy onto the couch. Tommy kept slipping in and out of consciousness. He'd be all right, but would have a terrible headache in the morning. Mikey could already see a discoloration where the thing--one of those Bat throwing toys of the Batman's--struck his brother!

Mikey was strangely excited. The Bat was here! Here in Bludhaven! That meant that Dicky was probably with him. Mikey didn't see the kid, Robin, with Batman, but then...Mikey thought confusedly. Robin wouldn't be a little boy anymore, would he? Dicky wouldn't be his beautiful little boy...he'd be a grown man.

"No! Dicky's coming back to me! He'll be here soon, and I'm gonna have to have the place ready for him." Mikey thought about the little boy in the back. He stood in the middle of room, his mind whirling with all of the conflicting images.

"But I have him already," Mikey said smiling. "Dicky's here already, and..." he paused again, thinking. "And tomorrow I get to show him how much I love him. Tommy said that's okay. It's the in the rules!" Mikey felt a thrill surge through him. "Dicky will be mine tomorrow!"

"Don't count on it, scumbag!"


Mikey whirled around, diving for where he'd carelessly dropped the AK47s in the middle of the floor. As his hands clasped around one of the weapons, a heavily booted foot came down--hard!--on his wrist!

"Aiii!" Mikey yelped at the unexpected sharp pain.

"That's cheating, Mikey," the voice above him taunted. "I thought you liked to play by the rules?"

Mikey looked up from where he knelt cowering. A young man of slightly above average height stood over him. He had dark, almost midnight black hair and was wearing a matching black costume, with a midnight blue stylized wing across his well-developed chest. The young man's eyes were camouflaged behind the black, bat-like mask he wore.

Bat-like? Mikey looked at him, frightened.

"Y-y-you're that Nightwing guy that the local mooks talk about," he said, gasping. Mikey was holding his wrist closely to his chest. "My wrist...I think you broke my wrist." His voice sounded like a small child in pain.

"Really?" Nightwing asked disinterestedly. "Gee, I'm sorry. Now I'm gonna have real trouble sleeping at nights, y'know?"

Mikey started feeling angry. "You hurt me, man! I need a doctor! You hear me? I need a doctor!"

"You're gonna need a mortician," Nightwing growled, "if you don't tell me where you're keeping Billy Grady!"

"Billy?" Mikey looked genuinely confused. "I don't know any Billy."

Nightwing squinted his eyes, disbelievingly. He bent down and roughly grabbed Mikey by the collar. Nightwing pulled his right arm back, preparing to throw a punch, when he felt a sudden explosive pain in the back of his head. As Nightwing felt the world close around him, he became vaguely aware that Tommy was standing there calmly, holding a baseball bat in his hands. That was the last thing he knew for a while.


As he lay in the dark, confusing images swirled within the black recesses of his mind. Threatening voices kept coming in and out of his hearing. Voices that caused hurt each time they came within range. One Voice in particular took special pleasure in causing pain. A Voice from the past...a Voice who'd hurt him a long time ago...

When Nightwing finally regained consciousness, his innate sense of time told him that he'd only been out for about a half-hour. In that time a few things had changed. He was no longer Nightwing. He was now Dick Grayson. Nightwing had been completely stripped of everything, except for his briefs. He was sitting on a cold, damp floor in a room with a single overhead bare bulb.

Dick looked around the room and immediately wished he hadn't. It was a veritable Chamber of Horrors. From his low angle on the floor, he couldn't see everything in the room, but he could imagine what he didn't see. The wall and floor opposite him were covered in dark stains. His experienced eyes recognized the stains as blood.

A shiny metal examination table in the middle of the room gave him added chills. Its very immaculateness was even more frightening than the filthy walls. A smaller table next to it held a variety of instruments whose purposes he didn't want to know.

And the smell! The smell finally made itself known to his conscious awareness. It had been there all along. He just hadn't been cognizant of it. Now he knew what it was. The smell of decaying human flesh...once experienced, never forgotten. Dick felt his throat gag involuntarily.

"Okay, Grayson, I think it would be a very good idea if you got out of here! Time to test the cage!"

Dick immediately tried moving his arms. He was elaborately handcuffed and chained to the wall. The chain had sufficient play to allow him to raise and lower his arms, but he was pretty much immobilized. His right ankle was chained to a heavy eye-ring solidly bolted to the floor.

"Okay, so much for standing," Dick muttered. He reached tentatively to his face, and wasn't really surprised that his mask was gone.

"Great! Naked and unmasked! Sounds like a bad "B" movie!"

Dick winced at the sudden pain that shot up from his midriff when he moved his arms. He looked down and examined his rib area. A deep discoloration was already spreading across his abdomen.

"Probably kicked me when I was out," he said ruefully. Then, wincing at the sharp pain, added, "Several times." Dick could also feel a deep pulse-pounding ache from the back of his head.

"Could be worse," Dick thought, facetiously, fighting the pain and reaching inside his briefs. "I could've forgotten to wear clean underwear! What would Alfred have said then?"


"Master Dick," Alfred's droll voice broke in. "The well-dressed young superhero always changes his underwear before going out on a case!"

"Huh?" Ten-year-old Robin looked at him like he was joking!

"One never knows, young sir, when one might meet with serious injury and require medical attention. I won't have you causing a scandal in the superhero community by wearing dirty shorts!"

Alfred calmly held out a clean pair of briefs.

"Now, hurry it up! Master Bruce is waiting quite impatiently!"

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Robin asked grabbing the briefs and running into the uniform vault to change. "What's next?" he wondered aloud. "Do all us 'well-dressed young superheroes' have to brush our teeth first before we go chasing after crooks, too? Sheesh!"


"Thanks for the reminder, Alfred," Dick said softly. He quickly found the skeleton key he'd hidden inside the elastic waistband of his briefs, and began working on his handcuffs.

Hearing noises coming in his direction, Dick managed to break free of the manacles in record time. "Dick Grayson, Master Escape Artist!" he quipped.


When Batman entered the underground garage, he saw no sign of the Gunthers or Nightwing. As he cautiously dropped down to the third parking level, the lowest in the facility, Batman couldn't quite shrug off the feeling that he was descending into hell. He found the van under a painter's tarpaulin in a gloomy corner of the garage.

There were three exits leading out of the garage to the upper living areas, coinciding with the three apartment buildings radiating out from the central parking facility. Batman's eyes squinted as he studied the area.

Touching a special pressure point on his cowl, his NVGs ran a spectral analysis of the three doors. He allowed himself a small smile. On the door leading to the West Wing, was one of Nightwing's miniature calling cards. Batman reached for the doorknob...


"Let's go!" MacCauley ordered. The officers comprising the Bludhaven Child Murders Taskforce took off at a run. Keeping close to the shadows afforded by the dozens of empty buildings, they moved stealthily towards the underground garage entrance. His two sharpshooters separated, heading towards their vantage points.

Winters stayed close to MacCauley. Against his protests, she'd insisted on accompanying the taskforce in the capacity of an official observer. Winters wanted to be present when they recovered Billy Grady. She felt that the traumatized boy would need immediate psychiatric care to help him through the days ahead.

As they moved silently to the entrance point, Winters thought back on her earlier conversation with MacCauley in his office about Cadet Grayson...

"I suppose that the only way Dick was able to face the psychological trauma was by blocking it out. Poor kid. It's emotionally draining enough to face one major trauma in your life, but two at once?" Winters shook her admiringly. "That Dick developed into the fine young man he is, shows a strength of character that's almost superhuman!"

MacCauley laughed at her exaggeration. "So, are you trying to tell me that Cadet Grayson is, in fact, that new kid superhero, Superboy?" MacCauley held his hands out, as if to stop the horror. "No, thanks! One spandex-clad hero in Bludhaven is about all this old cop will be able to take! At least Nightwing is only human. I think..."

As Winters followed closely behind MacCauley, she vowed silently that Billy would receive the best professional assistance available to help him through the rough road ahead.

End of Part 8