240 hours before (10 days):
Midnight
A rather angry yell sliced through the peaceful silence of Wayne Manor, house to a family not by blood, but by heart. At least most of the time...
"Tim Drake, I swear to god, if you forget our anniversary ONE MORE TIME, I'm going to steal one of Damian's swords and castrate you!"
"Hey! Don't bring me into your relationship crisis. AND DON'T YOU DARE STEAL MY SWORDS!"
"We don't have a crisis! Steph, c'mon, it's not that bad!"
"Aren't you supposed to be the smart one, Replacement? Of course it's bad, you forgot your anniversary for the third time in a row!"
"Don't talk about things you don't understand, Jason! I don't see you having a girlfriend!"
"And if you don't remember this next year, then you won't have one either!"
"Would you all shut your traps, I'm trying to sleep!"
"Not in that tone, Master Damian!"
"Boys-"
"Hey, here are girls, too, Bruce! Don't be so sexist!"
"Fine, kids, if you don't stop this right now and go back to sleep, then none of you'll go on patrol tonight!"
And just like that, the Manson went silent once again.
234 hours before:
Tim Drake awoke with a head splitting headache. He groaned and turned to his side, smashing his hand against the beeping alarm clock. "Shut it, you annoying peace of metal," he grumbled and sat up in his warm and comfortable bed, rubbing his eyes. He groaned again. His stomach hurt.
And then the events of the night came crashing back at him and he realized just why he had such a bad stomach ache. Fear and dread. He had forgotten his and Stephanie's anniversary. Again. He promptly fell back into his pillows.
Steph had told him last year, after he'd forgotten their two-year anniversary, that it was his responsibility as her boyfriend to write her a cute message the following year at midnight. And he forgot.
"Timmy," came the voice of his girlfriend from downstairs, oozing with false sweetness and Tim new he was screwed. "Come down, Timmy, it's breakfast time!"
"Uh," stuttered Tim, looking for a way out of this. "I think I'll stay in bed, I don't feel so good!" he yelled downstairs, hoping to sound convincing.
"Timothy Jackson Drake, if you don't get your ass down hear in three seconds, I'm gonna make good on my promise from last night!"
Tim gulped. He really didn't want to be castrated, especially not with Damian's swords. Who knows which guts he's put them through.
"Coming, sunshine!"
"Hey, Tim," greeted his older brother Dick when he sat down at the table, as far away from Stephanie as possible. Alfred was serving breakfast and Bruce was reading today's newspaper. Damian and Jason were- to no one's surprise- fighting (only God knows what about) and throwing pointy things at each other. Steph was explaining Monopoly to Cassandra, who didn't seem to see any sense behind the game and Dick was enjoying his food, thinking about who knows what.
"Why don't you eat, Tim?" asked Stephanie innocently, smiling that false sweet smile again. Tim glanced down at his food and then back up at his by now devilishly smirking girlfriend.
"Eh, not hungry." Tim didn't trust his food anymore. Heaven knows what Stephanie put into it! "A shame," she cackled and bit demonstratively into her scrambled eggs. Tim's stomach grumbled, but he ignored it and threw a glare at his chuckling tormentor. "I hate you," he mumbled, resting his elbows on the table and his chin in his palms. "What was that?"
"Nothing," he squeaked.
232 hours before:
"So not fair," grumbled Jason, shouldering his backpack. Tim nodded. "Yeah, why is Dick excused from school, but we have to go!" Bruce groaned. "Because Dick and I are going to Blüdhaven and look for an apartment for him. I told you that during breakfast." Jason huffed in annoyance and Tim could hear Damian snicker. "What's the problem, Todd? Afraid you can't keep up at school?"
"Why, you little..."
"Young Masters, please. The Limousine is waiting outside, Miss Stephanie and Miss Cassandra are already inside and waiting for you to come," interrupted the British butler the boys' bickering. "Still, Dick is not eighteen yet, he should have to go to school just like us!"
Bruce, who looked really pissed now, sighed. "Jason, Dick is going to be eighteen in a few days, while your seventeenth birthday was just a few weeks ago. And don't get me started on Tim and Damian. You two are practically kids."
"I'm not a kid," growled Damian. "I'm twelve. Drake is the kid."
"I'm older than you."
"I don't care."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. "If you don't get in the car right now, I'll bench you for the next whole week."
"What?! You can't do that."
Bruce gave Jason a hell-I-can look and crossed his arms. "You want to test me, Jason?" The two had a stare down, until Jason grabbed Tim's arm and dragged him out of the Manson, Damian trailing behind. Tim could hear Jason mutter thing like, "Stupid", "They are all idiots" and "Dick is a dick," as they climbed into the car.
"Let me guess," laughed Stephanie, as they were being driven to Gotham High, "you three tried to convince Bruce to let you stay at home."
"He threatened to bench us!" complained Jason, throwing his arms in the air. "Who does he think he is?!"
"Your legal guardian," deadpanned Cass quietly. Even though she'd mastered the English language, she still didn't talk much and only really quietly. If you didn't know her, you'd probably think she's shy, but Tim knew better. She just didn't feel comfortable around others. She hardly talked around the Batfamily, but with strangers- no sound came out of her mouth, but the Bats could still understand her, her body language and her facial expression. They learned to read her, like she read others.
Meanwhile:
Bruce and Dick drove in silence. None of them knew what to say, as they got further and further away from Gotham. "They'll miss you," broke Bruce the awkward silence. Dick nodded. "I know. I'll miss them, too. And you. I'll miss you." Another few minutes of silence. "Damian will come to visit a lot," stated Bruce flatly. "Why?" The father looked into his son's blue orbs. "He is training to be Robin, not Batman. He wants you as his mentor, he wants Robin."
"He's always welcomed, you all are."
"I know."
Bruce had never been a very talkative person. He knew that it had been hard for Dick, when he had been living with him, before the others came. Dick was a very active boy, he always needed some kind of action and couldn't stand to stay still for longer than a few minutes. It had been driving Bruce nuts, even though he thought it was quite adorable. But there were also a lot of similarities between the two. Their sense of justice, their need for righteousness and, of course, their fighting style. And not just that, also the force behind their attacks, their motivation and their... weakness; family.
But was family really a weakness? Or was it rather what gave them strength, encouraged them to go on until they'd drop dead? Was it their fuel to continue fighting, fighting for-
"Bruce?" Dick's question pulled him out of his philosophical thoughts.
"Are you angry?"
"No."
"Then why are you so cold? Colder then usual."
Bruce stayed silence. "I'm not angry," he repeated eventually. "I just don't want to..."
"Let me go?"
"I guess." Bruce hated talking about his feelings, but he knew Dick needed it right now, confirmation that he was doing the right thing. "Bruce, I'm not moving out right now, we're just looking for a possible apartment for the future. I can't live at the Manor forever, this had to come someday."
"Why Blüdhaven?"
Dick sigh. "It's close to Gotham, but not too close. I can start my own life-"
"Out of my shadow," finished Bruce his sentence. Dick sighed again, running a hand through his dark hair. "I guess."
"I think there is another reason," mused Bruce, and leaned back in his seat. "Blüdhaven is similar to Gotham. Most second crime-ridden city. You want a change, but at the same time, you don't. It's not the city you want to change, is it?"
Dick looked at him with his big blue eyes and Bruce was painfully reminded that Dick- his little boy- had grown up, that those eyes weren't the eyes of a scared ten year old, who came crawling into Bruce's bed when he had a nightmare again.
"It's the people around you," he picked the conversation up again. "You want a change in neighbourhood." Dick frowned. "I don't-"
"You do. Because everything reminds you of your guilt. Of Joker. You are running, not from Gotham, or Joker, but from yourself. But you can't outrun yourself, Dick. What happened was two years ago, what happened happened, you can't change that. But don't hold on to your guilt, you are leaving Gotham to move on, so move on."
Another second of awekard silence.
"That was the most sentiment thing you've ever said," smiled Dick slightly, lighting up the mood. Bruce smirked. "Don't get used to it."
"I won't."
225 hours before:
"Get back here, you asshole!" yelled a very angry twelve year old at his seventeen year old brother, as the Wayne siblings got back home after school. "Catch me if you can, Demon Brat!"
"TODD! Give me my swords back!"
"NEVER!"
"Young Masters, please!" said Alfred sternly, an exasperated look in his old eyes.
Stephanie sighed and patted his shoulder. "It's no use, Alf, you know them."
The old butler pursed his lips. "Yes, I guess you're right, Miss Brown."
"What on earth is going on here?" Everybody turned to look at the speaker. "Bruce, you're back!" exclaimed Stephanie, smiling at her mentor and her pseudo brother. "How was Blüdhaven?" She asked, crushing Dick in a hug. He laughed slightly, his chest vibrating against hers. "Good. We found a few nice apartments in good locations."
"When will you be leaving Grayson?" grumbled Damian, a bored expression on his face. "Don't know yet," shrugged the older boy and ruffled his brother's hair. Damian swatted his hand away, a scowl on his face.
"-Tt-"
220 hours before:
"Damian, you and I will patrol Crime Alley, Dick, you'll take the day off and write that application for the BPD." There was a certain bitterness in Bruce's voice and Dick flinched. He knew Bruce would be pissed about his choice of profession, but hearing him say it with such coldness still hurt. "Sure," he muttered, leaving the cave with slouched shoulders.
Jason glared at the bat. "Are you kidding me?" he growled, taking a furious step towards him, but Tim laid a hand on his shoulder, stopping his approach.
He knew that Jason and Dick had come a lot closer since the whole Joker-kidnapping-and-torturing-them story. "Don't try, it's no use," he whispered into the rouge bat's ear.
Jason shrugged his hand off, but loosened his tens shoulders. "Whatever," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "Where am I suppose to patrol?"
"Factory district," stated Batman shortly, turning to Tim. "And you'll stay here to monitor us. Batgirl, Orphan, you follow the ordinary patrol routes."
-
Dick slammed his door shut and flopped down on his bed. Sighing, he ran a hand down his face. Great, just great. His father hated him, Jason probably blew up about it and started a fight with Bruce, while Tim tried to stop them and Damian didn't give a damn. At times like this, he really wished Barbara was still with them; was still Batgirl. But she wasn't.
He sadly looked at a picture of Batgirl hanging on the wall, her red hair framing her face. He glanced at his phone. Maybe he should call her? He still remembered when the doctor had told them she'd never be able to walk again.
"I'm sorry, sir, but the bullet tore through her spine. If we try to take it out, it would kill her. She won't be able to walk again. I'm really sorry."
Tears welled up in Dick's eyes as he recalled the night everything had changed.
"Batgirl, be careful. These thugs aren't like others. They are better at hitting their target than not."
She smiled mischivously at him. "Don't worry, 'Wing, I can take care of myself."
"I know." He pecked her on the lips and watched as she took out her grappling gun and flew down at the thugs shooting at GCPD officers.
His head hit the pillows and he closed his eyes as he tried hard not to cry.
There was a shot and then a female scream. Dick felt his heart stop. No. He knew that scream, feared to hear it ever since he fell in love with a bat. "Batgirl!" He turned around to see her lying on her back, a red circle growing near her stomach area. "No!" But it was too late. Batgirl was no more.
He took a breath and sat up again, taking the phone in his hand. He unlocked it and dialled the number of his lover. After a few seconds, her voice came through the device. "Dick?"
"Hey, Babs. How are you?" He knew his voice sounded tight, but he needed to hear her voice. "I'm finally allowed to leave to hospital tomorrow!" she exclaimed excitedly and the acrobat couldn't help but be exited too, his spirit lifting. "That's great news!" Barbara always managed to cheer him up.
"So, now that you don't sound like a kicked puppy anymore, you gonna tell me what happened?" Dick's smile faltered. "How did you-"
"You may be a bat, Dick, but you can't hide anything from me. I just know you too well."
Dick let out a tired sigh. "I guess you do. I told Bruce about my choice of work after we returned from Blüdhaven."
"I can imagine his reaction. But it's your life, Dick. And if you want to be a cop in a crime ridden city, then be one. No one has the right to stop you from fulfilling you destiny. You always wanted to help people, Dick, and now you found a way to do it as Dick Grayson, not as Nightwing."
"Thanks, Babs. I really needed that- you. I need you."
"Is that your way of telling me you love me?"
"No, that's my way of telling you how awesome you are." He smiled. "I love you."
"Love you, too."
218 hours before:
Red Hood crouched at the ledge of a long abondened factory building, eyes scanning the surrounding area. His hands hovered above his guns strapped to his side. "You sure it's here, Replacement?"
He could practically hear his little brother's sigh at the end of the line. "Yes, idiot. All the bodies that have been found were in a 10 miles radius from there. You're in the right place."
"Was just making sure. Didn-"
He stopped. The wind had picked up and carried over a smell. Well, technically, he couldn't smell anything, but he had constructed his helmet to pick up smells like burning flesh, rotting flesh and blood. And his helmet was signalling him that two of those thing were somewhere close. Blood and rotting flesh.
"I think I found something."
"Told you so. Wait, what did you find?"
Jason rolled his eyes. "Blood. I'm following the scent."
He heard a suppressed snort. "Scent? What are you, a werewolf?"
"No, you asshead, but I have a fully automatic helmet, if you haven't noticed." He climbed down the fire escape, hearing Tim call him a few very colourful words in the process that would have made Damian proud. "Didn't know you'd ever use such foul language. What must Alfred think?"
"Shut it, Jason. You there yet?"
"No."
He followed the direction his helmet was showing him and unease began to form a heavy knot in his stomach. Something was defenitifly wrong. He rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.
The alley he just walked into was dark, shadowy trashcans lining the wall, but that wasn't what caught the Red Hood's attention. It was the body.
He took a cautious step forward, careful to avoid the blood stains on the ground. His heart beat faster than it should, pounding inside his chest like it wanted nothing more than to jump out and run away. There was an uncomfortable tight sensation in his gut, as he slowly knelt down and examined the body.
It was small, probably still a child, but Jason couldn't tell. His- Jason decided it was a he- face was covered by blood soaked hair. Jason reached out and carefully lifted the bangs, revealing the kid's face. Hot anger burned in his chest as he looked at the pained expression of the child that could be no older than twelve. Who would do something like that to a kid? He looked around the crime scene and realized that most of the blood came from underneath the body and left stains across the floor, like he had been dragged here and dumbed like garbage.
Jason swallowed and slowly turned the boy around. An audible gasp exited his lips as he saw what had caused so much blood loss. The boy's back was raw flesh, bones sticking out in strange angles, blood smeared all across his backside. "Jason? What's wrong?"
Jason remembered he still had his com on.
"I found a body." Even in his own ears, his voice sounded shaken, but he couldn't care less at the moment. Someone out there was killing children. "Is it like the others?" There had been more bodies, all children, found dead in some alley, their backs ripped open, just like it was the case with the young boy in front of Jason. "Yes," he swallowed down the bile in his throat. "It... I didn't imagine it to be so... gruesome."
Tim could tell that Jason was clearly shaken up, which wasn't an easy thing to do. "I'll call Batman," he said, softening his voice. "He can collect the body, while you keep looking for anything out of ordinary, okay?"
"Yes, call him. I'll search the remaining buildings before heading back."
"Fine with me," muttered Tim as he looked at the ticking clock. Eleven pm. and they hadn't been sleeping the other night, thanks to him forgetting Steph's and his anniversary. Again.
He yawned as he opened the com link connecting him to Batman.
Jason didn't stop running until he was a few streets away from the body and his helmet couldn't detect the smell of gore anymore. He ripped it off, throwing it to the side and emptying his stomach content onto the dirty floor. Normally, Jason wouldn't have any problems with bodies, not in his kind of business, but the way this body- this kid- looked... It just reminded him too much of his own death. He had been just a few years older than the boy, trained by a bat and raised on the streets, he was used to rough handling, but the kid, how scared had he been, how much pain did he have to endure before darkness finally claimed him? Jason didn't want to think about it.
He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and wrinkled his nose against the bitter taste of bile. Groaning, he put his red helmet back on and grudgingly took out his grappling gun.
He heard a clink as the hook locked somewhere on the roof of the closest building.
Twenty minutes later, he still had to check three more abondened factory buildings, and he heard a static crack in his communicator and then the somewhat agitated voice of Tim Drake. "Hood, we analysed the body and Batman found something. It looks like the wounds on the back weren't inflicted by someone from the outside, his bones are deformed and broke through his muscles and skin by themselves, not by force."
Jason frowned deeply. "How is that possible? Bones don't just think 'oh hey, I don't like my position, lets move three inches to the right'."
Tim huffed. "It's as impossible as Superman or Metas."
"So he's an alien?"
"No, that's the strange thing, we couldn't find any traces of dark matter and his DNA is human. But we did find something unusual."
Jason could hear the hesitation in Tim's voice. "We took a blood sample to discover his identity and... well, there was a cocktail of chemicals in his blood. I assume that's what killed him."
"A new drug?" murmured Jason, fisting his hands. Gotham really didn't need a drug on the streets that ended up killing its users. The city had enough problems without homicidal scientists that saw it fitting to kill kids.
"So the kid was a customer?" he asked Red Robin.
"Don't think so. The chemicals used for- I'm not even sure you can call it a drug- are too expensive for a kid from the streets. We checked his background and he was reported missing two years ago. His parents died during a gang war and he avoided the orphanages."
Jason resisted the urge to punch the wall next to him. It were always the kids that suffered. Adults didn't care if they destroyed lives, families. It was always about money and power. Not always, reminded him a small voice in the back of his head, but Jason decided to ignore it. Batman and the Justice League were the exception, not the rule.
"So he wasn't buying the drugs," Jason forced out, trying to calm his rage, "someone tested them on him."
"And on the other kids, too. They were all lab rats." Tim didn't sound any less enraged than Jason and he could imagine the younger boy standing in front of the Bat-computer, trying really hard not the smash his fist into the expensive monitors.
"Just get back home, Hood."
"Will do, just gonna check out the last warehouse."
Jason didn't wait for a response and started walking again. He rounded a corner and was stopped by a dead end. "Great," he grumbled sarcastically. This was really not helping his mood. He looked at the buildings on each side of him and narrowed his eyes. Maybe he could...
Jason turned to his left and took a few steps back. He flexed his knees and leaned his upper body forward, taking a deep breath and ran. Yes, he ran straight at the wall. If he didn't time this right, the landing would be pretty fucking painful, so he counted his steps.
Five, four, three, two, one, jump!
He leaped into the air.
Using the wall as a springboard, he catapulted himself even higher.
He extended his arms and reached for the railing of the fire escape. His gloved fingers brushed the metal and his right hand slipped, but he managed to hold on tight with his left.
He hang like that for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath, before pulling himself up and looking down. Almost 13 feet. If he hadn't cought the fire escape, things wouldn't be pretty now.
"Nice catch, Hood."
Jason jumped and his finger flew up to where his ear was hidden behind his helmet, near his com. "What the fuck, Replacement? How did you...?"
"There is a camera in your helmet, you know that, right?"
"Ye- holy shit!"
"Jason!? What's wrong?"
"I think I found something. I'll check it out and call you later."
Without waiting for Tim to reply, Jason shut off the com. He really didn't need Tim's babbling right now.
What Jason found was a building. Sure, buildings weren't something unusual, but a science lab where an abondened factory was supposed to be was defenitifly not normal. How he knew it was a lab? Well, the vans with the inscription 'GME laboratories' that parked in front of the big steel doors kinda gave it away, whatever GME was supposed to mean.
The doors opened and Jason crouched down low on top of the rooftop, hands hovering above his guns. Two men in white lab coats exited the building, loading big boxes into the vans. Looks like they're changing locations.
Jason shot his grabbing gun to get across the open space, where he was in earshot of the two scientists.
"What about the test subjects?" asked the bigger one, a blond man with hamster cheeks.
"The boss said to leave them here and burn the building down. We can't have Batman examining any of our experiments."
"And the weapon?"
Now Jason was curious. Weapon? Experiments?
"We are supposed to bring it to the meeting point."
Jason scowled, wondering wether to let them get the weapon and lead him to their boss, or shoot them and get the weapon himself. He looked at the holo clock in his glove. Almost midnight. Jason didn't have much time before sunrise, maybe seven hours and he didn't know how far away this checkpoint was. He grabbed his guns. "Shooting it is."
He aimed both weapons at the men- not at anything important- and pulled the trigger. Two shots rang out and hit their mark and the men fell to the ground, knocked out. Jason growled and activated his com again. "Are you kidding me, Replacement? Rubber bullets?!"
"Nice hearing from you, too. And Bats insisted on it."
"Of course he did," spat Jason bitterly.
"So, what did you find?"
"A lab where none should be, two shot scientists and there is supposed to be a weapon here somewhere."
"A lab?" asked Tim and Jason could basically hear his brain working. "Did they say something about their experiments? Or who they experimented on?"
Jason furrowed his eyebrows. "You mean the bodies?"
"Yes. Can you look for evidence?"
"On it."
Jason jumped down from the roof and landed in front of one of the vans. He looked at the building, then back at the vans. He could just check the vans and leave the lab for the others and get at least a few hours of sleep... "Screw it," he muttered, advancing on the building, guns held firmly in his hands. His heart was fluttering in his chest with every step he took. Even though there was no immediate threat, this place gave him the chills. He followed down a narrow hallway, bright neon tubes hanging on the walls. "Cliché much," he muttered, tightening his grip on his guns. "At least it's not a warehouse."
He reached the end of the tunnel and pushed open another steel door scrunching up his face at the screeching sound. "What the fuck?" He muttered.
Cages. Wherever he looked, he saw metal cages, standing on the ground, on top of each other, or hanging from the ceiling. He slowly and carefully sneaked close to one cage, and his heart leaped out of his chest as he saw what was in it. "Red Robin? You there?"
On the other side of the line, Tim could hear the tightness in his brother's voice. "Yes, you found something?"
"Not something." Jason looked around. "Someone. Children. And they are all dead, just like the one I found in the alley."
He could hear Tim gasp. "You saw children? How many?" Jason knew Tim was reluctant to ask that question. "Fifty, maybe more. They are all in cages, like they're some dogs. Who'd do something like that?"
Jason was scared. He wasn't scared often, but this sight, the sight of fifty dead children being locked away in cages, scared him to the core. He looked down at his trembling hand. When did that happen? And when did he grasp one of the metal poles to hold himself up? "-ason? Jason!?"
The ani-hero shook his head and the trembling stopped. "Yes?"
"Are you okay?"
Jason scowled. What do you think? No.
"Of course, Replacement. I'm fine." Lie!
"Ok." Tim knew he was lying. "You should come home, Hood. We can look at it tomorrow."
"No." Why the hell didn't I say yes? "I have to check if anyone is still alive."
He started walking around the cages, careful to stay away from the blood. And there was a lot. "Jason, I think you-"
But Jason ignored him. He had to find some evidence of live. They couldn't all be dead, they just couldn't. Someone had to be alive, at least one of them had to be-
And then he heard a noise. Like... feathers against metal. He pointed his gun in front of him and crept forward. He looked around with narrowed eyes and saw... a mountain of feathers in one of the cages? They moved again, making a rustling sound as they gazed the metal bars and Jason went halfway around the cage to get a better look at what he'd found. With an increasing feeling of dread, he realized that underneath all the fluffy feathers, was a human.
He could see her face, pale and small, eyes closed, and as he looked closer, he realized that she wasn't lying under a blanket of bird feathers. "Tim," he whispered, because he had trouble comprehending what he saw. "Were all the dead children human?" He could hear typing. "Yes. Why do you ask? Is everything all right?"
"No." He gulped down the lump in his throat. "I found a survivor, but she's barely breathing and..." He looked at the small metal plate in the right corner of the cage. "And I know what the scientists were trying to do. I know the name of their project..." He hesitated, not knowing how to proceed. "They call it 'Protect W.I.N.G.'," he finally said, voice trembling.
"Wing?" Tim sounded confused and normally, Jason would have made fun of him, but this was serious. Counting all the dead kids that had turned up and the ones Jason just found, at least seventy children had gone missing and no one had even noticed. Or no one had cared. "Yes, 'Wing'. Literally." Because the blanket wasn't a blanket, the feathers weren't plucked from some poor animal; sprouting from the girl's back were two huge, raven black wings.