Update! A little later than I expected, but hopefully not too late. Happy reading!
August 28, 2017 03:12 - Infinity Island
There was good timing, there was bad timing, and then there was Bat timing. Basically, anything that could possibly go wrong didn't just go wrong, but went so wrong that there had to be a higher power at work for the sole purpose of enjoying the entertainment factor. At least, that's what Dick believed. Only through someone else's sick pleasure could so much go so incredibly downhill so fast.
"I don't want it for either of them…"
Talia's words hit Nightwing in a way he couldn't begin to describe. Something in her tone, in the way she conveyed so much more than just the words she said told him this mission was far more messed up than he originally thought. This was already true with the mini-al Ghul staring straight at them. This was something else, though.
And whatever could be more than Bruce Wayne's unknown, ninja offspring had to be at least twelve different kinds of crazy. Too bad they didn't get another moment to find out.
Crashing echoed around them, resonating off the high ceilings and metal panels that surrounded them. Footsteps, some in perfect unison, some patches in an awkward, uneven shuffle, made their way through the room. Suddenly, dozens of lackeys were upon them, marching on the balcony Damian had just pounced from and even through the door they had broken into. Nightwing cursed the unheeded warning that this whole thing had been too easy up to now.
"Detective," a familiar voice called from the balcony. Each one of the bats, even Talia and Damian, stiffened just a little at the recognition of Ra's's calm, methodical tone. "I would say this was an unexpected surprise, but this would be false."
Scattered around his usual assassins in their matching uniforms was a smattering of new pawns. Black jackets and what Nightwing would bet his escrima sticks was kevlar stretched themselves over tensed muscles. The only thing that differentiated small groups of them were their masks or helmets. Some of them, snarling and gnashing teeth, had metal masks over their mouths. Dick couldn't begin to guess why, but the masks resembled a dog's snout with all the slobbering noises those wearing them made. The others wore helmets of different shapes and colors.
There had to be no more than dozen. Some had green, army-like helmets. Their eyes, barely visible in the window-less masks, were vacant and the only sign of life was the grabbing of their guns. Like wind-up toy soldiers. A few black helmets, like the faces of snakes, were sprinkled throughout, their owners twitching and shifting like schizophrenics on a sugar high.
He almost didn't spot the third color. Red, gleaming in the lights of the room, suddenly stuck out of the crowd. This one didn't make any twitching movements, any gnashing noises, nor did it look like a tin toy. Its wearer slowly approached them and stopped a few feet behind Talia and Damian, holding himself still. Just waiting.
"I would rather this didn't come to any physical action," Ra's said above them. "Though, I must say you've forced my hand with this intrusion."
The doors opened again, this time with their four teammates being dragged in with inhibitor collars. Though the collar did little to Tigress, Nightwing winced at the sight of the rising bruise at her temple. His blood boiled as he watched his friends roughly deposited by the bloodied, cracked pod.
Batman kept his cool, his gaze trained up at the Demon's Head above him. "What you're doing here is wrong."
How he could make words like a kindergarten teacher's sound threatening still eluded Dick. Perhaps it couldn't be taught quite like batarang throwing could. Nightwing would have to stick to snark, it seemed.
"What I am doing is necessary," Ra's said. "I am perfecting war."
"You're playing god," said Batman.
"I am not playing at anything."
October 24, 2013 15:36 - Gotham
"He hasn't done anything for days," Jason whispered.
He and Dick stood just outside Tim's new room. The boy had kept himself practically boarded up in there. Dick wondered for a moment if it was worse than a few weeks before when Jason had kept to himself after the Garzonas incident. At least Jason left the room, though quietly and clearly when everyone else was asleep or away. There were no signs that Tim had left at all.
"He's going to starve to death if no one does anything," Dick sighed.
"Too bad Bruce has been keeping himself barricaded in his study."
They glanced down the hallway toward the closed door, clueless as to what their foster father could be reviewing. It had to do with Tim, that much was obvious. They could hear him at all hours, poring over documents and shuffling papers like he was lost in some IRS hell.
"They said it was an accident in the Caribbean?" Jason asked.
"That's what I heard, but we both know something's up," replied Dick, careful to keep his voice at a whisper.
"You think they were murdered?"
"After all their secret meetings with Bruce? Maybe it's a coincidence and it was just some unfortunate accident, who knows? At least Tim wasn't on that trip."
"They never really took Tim with them when they went away, though. If he were any more of a latchkey kid, they'd have to name it after him." Jason made a face at the memory of how often the Drakes would leave.
"They were still good people and good to him when they were around. Keep an open mind. It also doesn't mean Tim is hurting any less."
"I never said he was," Jason said defensively before his shoulders slumped. "Either way, it's not fair. He was at least mostly happy. Like you were and Bruce was. It's not fair. No kid should have decent parents taken from them."
Dick watched his little brother for a while, biting back comments at the noticeable lack of a mention of his own parents. Willis Todd was no surprise: the man was about as much of a father to Jason as a cockroach was a cuddly pet. Catherine was a sore subject he knew better than to discuss, especially now.
"Sometimes, bad things happen," Dick offered.
"It's not fair."
They decided to give Tim and Bruce any space they needed to work out the latest unfortunate events. Not an easy task when patrols were quiet, if they happened collectively at all. Jason was getting restless with being left home more often than not, learning to entertain himself more with the cave computer. After all, there were still files encrypted under his name he had to break into.
Finally, over a week after they had taken Tim into the house, all four of them sat in Bruce's study, an anxious tension hanging over them. Dark circles marred Bruce's otherwise perfect appearance, the man pinching the bridge of his nose as they all glanced around for clues to why they had all been called together.
"First, Tim, I hope you're finding our home to be as comfortable as possible for you. I know this is a difficult time, but if there is anything we can do, please let us know," he started. Tim merely nodded, his eyes downcast.
"Second, I wanted to talk to you about something. I know this is personal, but I thought it would be best to speak to you all together, as it deals with all of you."
For the first time since the Drakes' death, the boys exchanged a look. If Bruce Wayne was this serious about something, it was cause to be concerned. A pile of papers littered his desk and, as Dick peered up to his foster father's eyes, he saw just how anxious the man was.
"What is it?" the eldest asked.
"Jack and Janet Drake requested in their will that I… that I adopt you, Tim," he started, looking toward the youngest boy. He waited a moment before turning to the other two, "I am completely willing to follow through with this request. However, it also made me reflect on my own choices. My own… home. I realized that if I were to do it for one, I would want to extend the option to all three of you."
With that, he pulled out three separate files from his piles of papers and pushed them toward the three boys. "I understand either way. Whatever choice you make, I understand. But, I would be honored to be your legal parent if you would allow me the opportunity. Tim, I know this may be soon; Dick, I know this may seem like I am replacing the parents you already and and feel like too little, too late; Jason, I know you do not trust parents in general. I would not blame any of you for denying this. However, the papers are there if you want to sign them."
The four of them sat there, silence spreading over nervous minutes. Finally, Dick looked up and asked, "So, you'd be our legal father? Not just a foster father."
"Right," Bruce said.
"Do we need to call you Dad?" Jason asked.
"You can call me Bruce or whatever you wish you call me. Within reason. Nothing has to change but what we are by law."
Jason stared down at the paper. "But, you'll be my father. By law. Not Willis Todd."
"That is correct."
Jason immediately reached for a pen.
Dick bit his lip, tentatively reaching for his own. "You're not going to replace my father?"
"I would never want to."
The eldest nodded, and began to sign his name. After a while, Tim glanced between the paper and Bruce, the billionaire providing a supportive smile to his newest ward.
"Are you sure about this?" Tim asked, the first words out of his mouth for days.
"More sure than I've been about anything."
Tim took a deep breath, looked at his two "older brothers," and reached for a third pen, signing his name. He would have to get used to his new name, Dick reckoned. Timothy Drake Wayne.
August 14, 2014 01:49 - Gotham
It was just a name.
No, it was more than that. It was blood. History. A slew of unanswered questions and potential relationships. It was a promise of some happy home, even if it was some distant dream rather than a reality.
"Sheila Haywood."
Batman and Nightwing had been out for hours, leaving Jason and Tim on their own, save for the occasional checks from Alfred. Tim was busy reconfiguring a few of the latest computers when Jason had finished decrypting the files under his name. Well, when Tim helped him finish decrypting the files under his name.
"You sure you're okay?" Tim asked after a session on the rings.
"Fine," Jason said shortly.
Tim gave him an uneasy look before making his way back into the mansion, leaving Jason to his research. Cases the teen didn't understand mixed with testimonies in Gotham and Ethiopia. His mother—his real mother—was a doctor. At least, she seemed like a doctor. Nothing else mattered. She did good for people, just like Jason hoped a parent would. Just like he had always wanted a parent to do. She was someone to look up to, admire.
And Bruce kept her from him.
At first he was irritated. Then angry. Then seething. By the time the Batmobile screeched into the cave, Jason was beyond irate. His mother, the woman who had actually given birth to him and might actually want him, had been kept from him by the man who had just recently claimed himself to be Jason's father. Fine, sure, Sheila hadn't been there since Jason was a baby, Catherine had, but she had to have a good reason. She had to. Mothers always had good reasons for leaving their children.
"You lied to me."
No "hello" or "how was the mission?" Jason stared at Bruce, shaking with anger. Seconds of twisted tension spread over them before Nightwing even knew what was happening. Then, between the computer monitor flickering not far from them and the stern but ever-so-slightly guilty look on Bruce's face, he had an idea.
"What did you find out about Jason's parents?"
It had to be about them. Nothing else would get the boy so worked up so much without even hearing the other side. Parents, Dick had learned long ago, were Jason's soft spot. Especially mothers.
"You were not meant to see that. Not now," Batman said, voice firm as he stared at Jason.
"You know exactly what I mean, then! You knew!"
"We're not discussing this now, Robin."
"No! I'm Jason now, and you're Bruce, and we're talking about this!" the boy screamed, emphasizing his yells by tossing equipment from the nearby desk to the floor. "We're talking about this now! You knew!"
Bruce tore the cowl back faster than Dick had ever seen. "You need to calm down, Jason. We'll discuss this calmly and rationally, but you need to calm down."
"I don't have to do shit!" Jason screamed. "You kept it from me! You kept my father's death from me, and now you kept my real mother from me!"
"Just because she is the woman who gave birth to you, it doesn't make her your mother, Jason!"
"And just because you signed a paper, it doesn't make you my dad!"
The two of them stared at each other, Dick clearly seeing the regret of their own words over their every feature. Jason had never seemed so small, so vulnerable before. Bruce had never seemed so human. So wounded.
"Jason," the man started, rubbing a hand over his face, "I know you want to know more about her. I'm sorry keeping your mother from you has upset you so much. Of course it's understandable. But, I needed to find out more about her, to verify if the information was correct, before I brought you into this. The last thing I would ever want to do to you is hurt you."
"You knew keeping my father's death from me hurt. We talked about it. I never thought you'd do it again," Jason said, though Dick was mildly pleased his voice was at least calm and even.
"How much of the file did you read?" Bruce asked.
Jason shrugged. "Enough. Sheila Haywood had me when she was young and trying to get into college. She's now a doctor somewhere in Africa. Ethiopia or something. That's as far as I could get from your files. My mom is a doctor? How is that bad for me to know, Bruce?"
"Because I don't want you to get your hopes up about something if it may be more than just a doctor helping in Africa. She has files here in Gotham. They were difficult to find, but I am trying to piece together who she is and what she is doing. She may be into something, both here and in Ethiopia, but I'm not sure yet. All I know is it involves her clinic. I wanted to give you the full story before I told you anything at all."
"You should have told me to begin with," Jason said, crossing his arms. While his posture was curling in on itself as it tended to do in his defensive, hermit crab state, Dick was relieved he was at least cooling down. Defensive but calm was a lot better than irrational for his little brother.
"I am sorry I did not tell you to begin with, but you have to trust that I have my reasons, Jay," Bruce insisted, stepping closer to his adoptive son. "I want what's best for you."
"What's best for me is trusting where I come from. Knowing who Sheila Haywood is, what is happening with her is what I need right now. You're my father now, Bruce, but I need to know who my mom is. I need to know what she's doing."
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose before glancing over to Dick. The oldest son of the Bat was now also one of his most pragmatic and trusted allies. Dick knew whatever he said would sway the man's decision.
"Let's find out what Sheila Haywood is up to."
August 28, 2017 03:25 - Infinity Island
"What are you up to?" Bruce snarled, staring down the ancient man as if he were staring down any other street thug. The only sign he remotely respected the man he was glaring at was the resistance in his stance. He kept himself from launching at the near-immortal, but just barely.
"We already spoke of this, detective. War is coming. War is always on the brink, of course, but I have discovered a way to make the outcome decidedly in your favor."
"A league of zombie assassins?" Robin snapped at the man, earning a sideways glance from Bruce and Talia, not to mention a death glare from Damian.
"Not quite as elegant a phrase as I would use, boy," Ra's said, as cool as ever. "What do you think would happen if you used your enemy's weaknesses against them? Their hearts? Their souls? What do you suppose someone would do if they saw a loved one fighting against them? A ghost battling on the other side?"
Nearby, the pile of team members stirred, M'gann struggling to rise to her feet. Her collar was discarded on the floor, Tigress struggling to keep her face steady. Dick could feel the psychic link reconnecting, or whatever he thought a psychic link did. If they kept the villain distracted long enough, perhaps they could use their combined powers (or, lack thereof) to over take him and his lackeys and get the hell out of there.
A longshot, but still a shot.
"What you're doing is unnatural."
"No more unnatural than evolution. We grow, we learn, we thrive or die. It's the cycle of life."
"How would you know about the cycle of life?" Nightwing snapped. "You've been stuck in the same state for years."
"I've lived more lifetimes than you can imagine, child. Death is a final lesson, but decades, centuries of living is far better a teacher than the cold grip of death. Those around me can tell you that. Well, some can," Ra's finished, sending a look toward the masked men snarling and biting behind their metal masks. "Not all quite went as planned. One, however, has proven more successful. There are still some problems, but one has helped us narrow down the variables considerably. The degree of decay, type of death, location, and previous lifestyle. All important pieces to the puzzle."
Ra's looked down at the the red helmeted figure. Talia, staring between her father and Bruce, pulled Damian closer to herself.
"Do not do this. Not this way," she insisted, standing firm in spite of her slightly unsteady voice.
"I am sorry, my dear. It is the only way," Ra's said. Then, with a nod toward the red helmet, the figure pounced toward the bats with movements they had not seen since… well, since themselves.
He was strong, fast, agile. Everything they would assume an assassin could be. Trained to perfection and, with each narrow dodge and each vicious punch toward one of them, he was clearly beyond a simple soldier.
Still, he was human. Limited. Others fled toward them to help in the chaos. Assassins distracted Tim and Stephanie while Barbara and Bruce attempted to figure out just what the hell to do with Damian and Talia. Nightwing was left to stare down the shining red metal, the eyes glassy and expressionless.
Good. That made it easier to kick the hell out of whoever they had brought back. Whoever they had robbed of a restful peace.
Nightwing stepped forward, escrima sticks at the ready. Only when he was inches away, a mere second from landing a hit to the figure's ribcage, did he feel himself propelled backward. A scream burst from near the broken pod, and the entire chamber seemed to radiate with a terrifying eruption of energy.
"Stop!" M'gann screamed.
Nightwing sat up, looking around the vast room. Every person, assassins, bats, and team members alike, were all flat on their backs or held up against a wall. The martian's eyes glowed a radioactive green, and her gaze landed on the red helmeted opponent now a good twenty feet from Nightwing.
"Stop," she repeated, her voice shaky.
"What the hell was that about?" Spoiler asked, holding her head. Tim, Barbara, and Dick just looked at their old teammate
"Please, don't." M'gann's eyes turned back into a soft brown, though many still felt pinned against their respective surfaces. "Don't hurt him."
"I would have been fine," Nightwing insisted.
"I don't mean you," she said, turning her fearful eyes toward him. "Don't hurt him."
She took her hand from where she was holding it, letting go of half of her pinned hostages. Now, she focused on the red helmeted figure alone. Her eyes, now shining with tears, didn't blink as she stared the enemy down.
"You can't hurt him," she insisted. And, with that, she burst her fist open. For a moment, it seemed as if nothing had happened. Then, Dick noticed the red helmet was pulling away from its owner. He readied himself for falling skin, decaying flesh, rotting bone.
He never could have prepared himself for this.
As the helmet fell to the ground with a resounding thud, the world stopped. Air stilled and the chamber went so silent Dick could hear his heartbeat in his ears.
Then, breathless, eyes prickling with burning tears, he muttered the only name he never expect to say.
"Jason."
One more chapter before... well, you know. I hope this is continuing to live up to (or, fingers crossed, exceed) expectations! Let me know what you think!
- Defective