Chapter 4: Blind As A Bat
Chapter Text
Gotham: 9:00 pm. 1 day after Nightwing was released by Harley and Ivy. Winter Night.
PLINK!
A small pebble bounced off the wall. Ivy raised an eyebrow but ignored the interruption. She was busy reading The Price of Salt by Claire Morgan. Or trying to.
PLINK! PLINK!
Poison Ivy looked up from her book, shooting a glare at Harley. The Jester had her ankles crossed and her boots propped up on the couch's arm. Her right hand was busy flinging pebbles from a flowerpot at the wall. Meanwhile, her left hand was fiddling with the Star of David necklace around her neck. Ivy rolled her eyes and turned to the next page of her novel.
PLINK! PLINK! PLINK!
"What is it now, Harley?" Ivy sighed, turning towards Harley in exasperation.
"Oh, nothin!" Harley said, splaying her arms out.
"Then can you please stop throwing shit at my wall? I'm trying to read."
Harley harrumphed, crossing her arms and sticking her tongue out at Ivy. She changed her position from laying on her back to hanging upside down, her pigtails inches from the floor.
"Hnnngh.." Harley groaned, her arms dangling loosely.
"Hnnnnnnngh!" She groaned again, louder this time. You could almost see a vein in Ivy's forehead expand with frustration.
"HNNNNNNNNNGH!" Harley half yelled, throwing her arms in the air.
"What now!? What could possibly be the issue, Harley?"
"I'm BORED, Red! It's almost Christmas time and I'm cooped up doin nothin! Absolutely nothin!"
"You're always bored. Yet you never take my advice on how to relieve said boredom. Read a book, watch some TV, do a puzzle. "
"Lame, lame, lame! What are ya, a granny?"
"No, you're a wanted criminal. And wanted criminals who want to avoid getting arrested stay inside. It's a part of the deal."
"Maybe I should die. Just pitch myself out your window and die."
"Which window? My bedroom window? Or the window you broke saving Nightwing?"
"I said I was sorry! Come on, Ives? Can I please go outside?"
"I don't know Harl…."
Harley flipped herself off the couch, laying her face against Ivy's chest. The Jester wrapped her arms around the hybrid's torso. She was literally on her knees begging.
"I'll do anythin! Anythin! I'll…uhhh…oh! I'll do the dishes for a week!"
"Hmmm…I'm inclined to listen. Sweeten the deal a bit."
"I'll…I'll get you some new vinyls! Yeah! The ones ya like! "
"Keep it coming, Harles." Ivy jeered.
"And I'll stop leavin hair dye in the sink! And I won't break anymore windows! And! And!"
"Okay okay! Fine!" Ivy surrendered, chuckling at Harley's insistence.
"So I can go out?"
"Yes, you win. Go out and do something fun."
Harley perked up, a huge grin on her face.
"Really Ive!?"
"You've earned it. Knock yourself out, Harley."
Harley squealed and squeezed Ivy tight, lifting her into the air.
"Harley! Put me down! Stop it!"
Harley dropped Ivy on the couch, humming and spinning around happily in their living room. She damn near cartwheeled into the bedroom, and popped out in a new outfit. A black choker was around her neck. She was in Converse Running Motions and jeans, with a diamond belt buckle. She had pulled on a cozy sweater that had the initials HQ on the back. Of course, the entire outfit was alternating red and black. Ivy smiled at her friend.
"You look great, Harles. Meeting someone?"
Harley shook her head proudly.
"Nah! I'm gonna practice some gymnastics! It's been a while."
"Sounds good. Just don't forget our deal." Ivy said slyly.
"Yea yea dishes and the works." Harley grumbled, stepping through the non-broken window.
"Oh, Harley! One more thing." Ivy pressed. Harley turned around and faced the green-skinned woman.
"Yeah?"
"No more Nightwing shenanigans. Please. You can't bring attention to yourself."
Harley smiled genuinely.
"I promise!"
Location: Unknown. Time period, unknown.
The vigilante marched silently towards his last target.
Rickie backed away from Nightwing, pressing his back against the dumpster.
"Y-you made ya point! You can stop now! I don't wanna fight!" Rickie said shakily, clutching his injured hand. The advance continued, stopping a foot from the criminal. Nightwing holstered his sticks on his back.
"Good. I don't want to fight either."
Nightwing slammed his fist into Rickie's face, blood gushing out of the man's nostrils. Nightwing grabbed Rickie's shirt collar with his free hand. A gurgling groan came from the man's mouth as Nightwing continued to pummel him.
BIFF! BIFF! BIFF!
Rickie's legs gave out. Nightwing kneeled over the criminal's body, pulling out one of his escrima sticks. The vigilante's face remained stoic as he twirled the blunt instrument. A few flecks of blood ran down the bird emblem on his chest. The rain began to fall.
"S-stop…please." Rickie begged.
"No."
Nightwing raised the escrima stick above his head and slammed it into Rickie's face. He alternated slow overhand blows and quick strikes from side to side.
TOK! TOK! TOK!
Blood was now running down Nightwing's face and chest, his hand fully coated. His lenses and emblem were stained red. Rickie's eyes were both swollen shut. His jaw and nose were both fractured. His chest was barely rising anymore. The rain was really coming down now.
TOK! TOK! TOK!
Blood was splattered against the dumpster and the brick wall. Chunks of flesh were ripped out by the blunt force. Nightwing wouldn't stop. He was so caught up in bludgeoning Rickie that he didn't hear the capes whooshing behind or the gadgets being unholstered. Only a familiar voice calling out to him.
"Nightwing, stand down."
The Acrobat stood and turned, looking back over his shoulder. Batgirl, Batwing, and Signal all stood behind him, their faces twisted in horror. Signal took a cautious step towards Nightwing, his hands shaking slightly.
"What have you done?" he asked painfully.
Nightwing looked down at Rickie's body.
Gotham, 8:00 PM. 1 day after Nightwing was released by Harley and Ivy. Winter Night.
"Ahem."
"Ah!" Nightwing yelled, jumping back in his bed. Alfred stood over him with a concerned look on his face.
"Master Dick, you were talking in your sleep again. And your sheets are soaked in sweat. Are you alright?"
Nightwing groaned and ruffled his hair, staring up at Alfred with squinted eyes.
"Hnngh...I'm fine Al. Just a nightmare is all."
"I see. Master Luke awaits your arrival in the training room. He said, and I quote, 'I'm tired of Dick duckin boxing practice. If he's scared, he should cancel.'
The vigilante scoffed, popping out of bed. He removed his domino mask and smiled.
"We'll see who should've canceled." He said slyly. Alfred bowed slightly and then left Dick's quarters.
Dick changed into a black tank top and shorts, as well as a pair of running sneakers. He hummed to himself as he bounded down the stairs and scanned in at the grandfather clock, spotting Signal at the batcomputer.
"Anything good on tonight, Duke?" Dick asked earnestly. Duke shook his head and smiled.
"Nah. Now stop procrastinating that ass whooping Luke is gon give ya."
Dick rolled his eyes and headed down to the boxing gym, where Luke was waiting.
"I was right about to head back to my room." Luke said, his brown arms crossed over his chest.
"Yeah yeah, everybody has a joke about me today. Are you ready to get started or what?"
Dick nodded, putting on his head guard and boxing gloves. Luke may have been an inch shorter than Dick at 5'9, but his broad shoulders and wide forearms were a result of constant weight lifting and boxing. Dick knew better than to underestimate him.
BIFF SWISH!
Dick landed a blow on Luke's chest, missing the second one. He smiled slightly, blocking a punch aimed at his face. The Rromani was bouncing from each foot. Staying mobile was the key.
BIFF SWISH BIFF!
Luke landed a solid jab on Dick's stomach, whiffing a cross and landing an uppercut on his jaw. Dick stumbled a bit but kept his balance. He tried to ground himself in the sparring match, ignoring intrusive thoughts.
"Where's your head at, Grayson? Daydreaming again?" Luke jeered, throwing a soft fake out with his left. Dick fell for it and took a right to the nose.
BIFF!
'What have you done?' He asked painfully.
Dick felt his brains swim around after that punch. His breath hitched a bit and his hands fell. Luke took advantage of this, landing two left-handed jabs squarely on Dick's chest.
BIFF BIFF!
'Nightwing, Stand down.'
Dick was stumbling now. His nightmare was on loop. His feet weren't moving anymore. Sitting duck.
BIFF BIFF BIFF!
Luke landed three powerful punches on Dick's chin. It knocked him to the ground, his arms splayed over his head. Everything was blurry and ringing.
"Dick!" Luke's voice finally cut through the noise.
"Ugh…damn you hit hard, man." Dick said with a chuckle. Luke removed a glove, pulling Dick to his feet.
"What's going on with you, Dick?" Luke asked. His tone was heavy with concern.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Because you keep doing dumb shit. Clearly, something is on your mind. And it's not Black Mask."
"Luke, I'm fine. Let's just-" Dick tried to slip past Luke, but the boxer stepped in front of him.
"Bullshit. And you're not leaving my ring until you fess up. Something is clearly going on in that brain of yours."
Dick decided to go half honest.
"I'm overwhelmed. A lot has been going on lately and I just feel…I don't know. Lost I guess? Yeah, lost. Sometimes I feel like I'm falling without a net. And not in the fun, adrenaline rush way. Like if I fall we all fall."
Luke nodded thoughtfully.
"Well, that's true. But not in the way you think. Dick, you've convinced yourself that you have to do this all alone. That you have to be perfect every day or we'll all crumble. We just need you to do your best. And let us work as a team. When one of us falls, the rest of us catch them. But if you fall and don't let us help, we all fall down."
Dick nodded and looked away, embarrassed by his mistakes. Luke laid a strong hand on Dick's shoulder, giving him a slight smirk.
"Look. Don't tell anyone this, but how about I give you the night off. We can skip training and evidence analytics, just for tonight."
"Are you sure, Luke?" Dick asked.
"Absolutely. We all need a break and a refresher at times. You haven't been Dick Grayson in a while. Go out and do something fun. Maybe…a friend outside of the capes?"
Dick smiled.
"I know just the friend."
Gotham, 10:06 PM. Winter Night.
"Ladies and Gents! Theys and Gays! I present…THE HARLEY QUINN!"
Harley strutted on the rooftop, waving to an imaginary crowd.
"And for my first act, a flip!" Harley exclaimed. She started off in a jog and then tumbled, springing off her hands and landing on her feet. Her boots clacked against the concrete, the heavy shoes a good counterweight for her tricks.
"Wonderful, Miss Quinn!" She said in her mock announcer voice.
"For my next act, the handstand bridge! And a one, two, three!"
She dropped into a bridge, before swinging her feet into the air as she held a handstand. Harley even started to walk, gently swaying each boot to maintain balance.
"Isn't she magnificent?" Her voice boomed.
"And for my final act, a double backflip!" Harley said proudly. "Drum roll, please!"
Harley strummed on her thighs, before picking up speed again. She launched herself forward, bouncing her palms on the concrete and spinning twice while airborne. The gymnast landed perfectly on her feet, hands thrown up in the air.
"GIVE IT UP FOR HARLEY QUINN!" She yelled in her announcer's voice. Harley basked in the glory of her imaginary applause and roses.
"Not bad." A voice said suddenly, laced with a smile.
Harley's eyes went wide as she whipped around.
Nightwing. He was grinning, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. His black and blue armor was complemented by the moonlight, his bird emblem standing out the most.
"What are you doing here?" She accused, taking a few steps back.
"Just enjoying the show." He said disarmingly.
"What, like some kind of perv? Staring at my body while I'm flipping around?"
Nightwing blushed and looked away.
"What? N-no, not like…That's not what I meant!"
Harley snorted and laughed at him, taking a step toward him.
"Okay, Nighty. What did you mean?"
"I was just…around."
"Around."
"Yeah ya know. Around, in the area."
"Shouldn't you be doing something more important than just lurking about Gotham."
"I was investigating!"
Harley raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"Uh huh. Like what?"
"Well…the docks, yea! The docks."
"The docks."
"Yup."
"Which are on the other side of Gotham."
"Yes ma'am."
"Don't call me ma'am, it makes me feel old."
"Sorry, ma'am."
Harley groaned in annoyance and continued.
"So anyways. That's bullshit. Tell me why ya actually here, Birdie."
Nightwing sighed, looking down before looking at Harley. His eyes were full of sincerity. He sat down with his back to one of the walls on the rooftop, signaling for Harley to sit next to him. She obliged.
"I came to say I'm sorry. And thank you."
Now it was Harley's turn to feel uncomfortable.
"You're what now?"
"I'm sorry, Quinn. I'm sorry for chasing you across those rooftops. That was…a dick thing for me to do. And I never got to thank you. For the warehouse. For helping me after I fell in that alley. Everything."
"I…I appreciate that. Ya welcome, Birdie."
"I think I misjudged you. I never gave you a chance, ya know? So that's why I'm apologizing."
"Ya came all this way just tah apologize tah me?"
"Yes…and, no."
Harley nodded for Nightwing to continue.
"I had the night off tonight. And I wanted to just clear my head ya know. A lot…has been going on in Gotham lately."
"Like what?"
"I'm not sure if I can talk about that with you, I'm sorry."
"Oh." Harley's pigtails wilted a bit.
"But ever since I woke up in Miagani, I've been reading your letter. Over and over again. It made me realize that I was wrong about you. And that means I at least owe you a chance."
"Damn right ya do!"
"I also have to return this." He said playfully, handing her back the letter.
"Why's that?" She asked, cocking her head in confusion.
"Because last time I had something of yours it got me in trouble."
"Ooooo, I gotcha in trouble? Sounds like I'm rubbing off on ya nicely."
"Yeah yeah, whatever.."
Nightwing stood, extending a hand towards Harley.
"So…friends?" He asked hopefully.
"Hmmm. Friends!" She said, standing and shaking his hand.
"Cool." Nightwing said.
"As your new friend, I challenge you to a flip-off!"
"You're challenging me. They literally call me The Acrobat."
"And they call me The Gymnast."
"No they don't."
"Yes they do."
"Either way you would lose."
"Okay, so accept my challenge."
"Fine, fine! Let's start."
Nightwing stretched and walked to the edge of the building, before running and popping off of one hand. He spun sideways in the air, landing perfectly on his feet.
"Beat that." He said confidently.
"My pleasure." She replied.
Harley stood where Nightwing had started, getting back into a bridge. This time, she flung herself forward using nothing but her core. She completed 4 rotations before landing on her feet.
"Impressive." Nightwing admitted.
"Thanks, Nighty. Your turn!"
Nightwing prepared himself to jump again.
"Cave to Nightwing. Do you read me?" Signal said abruptly.
"Nightwing to Cave. What's going on?"
"We've got multiple incidents, all could be high-level threats. We need you back here ASAP."
"On my way. Nightwing out."
Harley frowned a bit when she heard the last sentence.
"I'm sorry, I gotta go Harley."
"I know, I know. Your Mr. Gotham now, blah blah blah."
He pulled out his escrima stick, aiming it towards another building.
"I'll finish our little competition another time, yeah?" Nightwing said.
"How will you find me?"
"I'm a detective. Finding people is my job. Later, gurli*."
And with that, he fired the grappling stick. Nightwing disappeared into the night.
"I gotta get me one of those babies." Harley said jealously.
Rromani Translation:
gurli : Cherry
Gotham, 10:57 PM. Winter Night.
Nightwing walked into the cave, where Batgirl, Batwing, and Signal were waiting. Alfred remained on standby, a tray of tea in hand. The Acrobat grabbed a mug and began sipping.
"Feeling better?" Batwing asked. Nightwing nodded, before walking to the Batcomputer. It was buzzing with activity.
"Woah…that's a lot going on at once." Nightwing said with a whistle. He turned to his fellow Bats.
"Listen up everyone. All three of these incidents will require stealth. Avoid combat at all costs. We are only there for recon and information. Batwing, you're on comms duty. Got it?"
"Yes sir." he replied, sliding into the chair.
"Signal, Jonathon Johnson just woke up from his coma. I need you to infiltrate Gotham General and find out what he knows. Record what he says and come back to the cave."
"You got it, Nightwing."
"Batgirl, Breyfogle docks has had a spike of imports ever since Port Adams was shot up. I'm willing to bet whoever was behind that attack is also using Breyfogle as a new place of operations. Find out what the shipment contains and see if you can find any evidence linking it to Port Adams. Tech, guns, etc."
"Consider it done."
"I'll be checking out the disturbance at Black Mask's building. We got an anonymous tip that an explosive device went off there yesterday. I'll collect the evidence and report back. You all have your assignments. I repeat, do not engage the enemy. We are gathering information so our next strike is precise."
Nightwing took a deep breath.
"I also want to apologize for my recent behavior. I haven't been on my A game. I promise to lock in and do better. Any questions?"
They all Shook their heads.
"Then let's do this."
The Bats deployed, each of them hopping on their respective motorcycles. They sped off out of the cave, causing the bats to screech and scatter.
"Be safe, my sons. And girl." Alfred said wistfully
Gotham, 12:04 AM. Winter Twilight.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The ECG machine's noise echoed against the walls. Jonathon Johnson groaned, leaning up a bit in his hospital bed. His dreads were messy and going in all directions due to multiple nights of not being covered up. He was sore, two nine-millimeter rounds having slammed into his side a few days prior. He was alone, just him and the equipment.
"Fuck…I feel like absolute shit…" he lamented.
"You look like it, too." A voice from nowhere replied.
Jonathon looked up to see a Bat in yellow and black body armor standing over him.
"Don't scream." Signal's voice was stern but soft. "Trust me, you don't want anyone to know I'm here."
Jonathon took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He nodded.
"Okay, Jonathon. I'm here to ask you about the shooting at Port Adams. All the cameras were destroyed, with no fingerprints left behind. Unfortunately, you're the only survivor."
Jonathon groaned and put his back on the hospital bed, sitting up fully.
"Yea. And Jon is fine. Damn, nobody else made it but me?"
"No. I'm sorry. Can you help me?"
"I can try."
"Tell me about that night, Jon. Before the shooting."
"It was just like any other night, ya know? Honestly, we were bullshitting. We don't do much at Port Adams anymore. Get a week's check for 1-2 days of work, plus overtime."
"Why?"
"Erm…I dunno about that one. It's the type of stuff that cops tend to arrest ya for knowing about."
Signal cocked his head and gave Jon a glare.
"Right…sorry. The big wigs in Gotham give us extra money for moving contraband. It's real hush hush. Been making 29 an hour instead of the usual 19 and I only work on the weekends."
"Hard gig to pass up. " Signal replied.
Jon's nose flared in annoyance.
"Don't come here all high and mighty, asshole."
"Anyways. Why did the dockworkers have guns on them?"
"What?" Jon asked incredulously.
"Your coworkers. They were armed to the teeth. MP5s, Uzis, burst fire Glock 19s. The works."
"Man you've got it all wrong! We were ambushed!"
"By who?"
"A bunch of guys in body armor. It was blue and black, shifting between each shade. And then there was their leader."
"What did he look like?"
"Blonde hair, bandana on his face. Orange body armor. Carried a big ass piece, I think it was a revolver. "
"Shit…" Signal breathed. It all made sense.
"They rushed us…came off the S.S. Wrath shooting. I took two rounds before I jumped into an empty crate. I hear their screams every single night."
Jon began to hyperventilate a bit. Signal placed a hand on the dockworker's shoulder.
"And then, the bandana guy shot one of his own men. Planted the guns on my guys and left them there. For the flies and the rats. Fucking Cobblepot…"
"Wait, Penguin's involved?"
"Involved? This was him. I'll bet my life on it. Him and Black Mask are the only ones who used that dock."
"Signal to Cave. I know who was behind the shooting at the docks."
"Cave to Signal. Report." Batwing asked.
"Cluemaster. He's back in Gotham. And he was hired by Penguin."
"Shit."
"Yea. Can you contact the others?"
"You got it, Sig-BZZT BZZT WHIIIIIR."
Signal winced as his Comm was full of static. His eyes went wide. He turned to Jon.
"You're not safe. We have to m-"
BASH! FTT-TT!
Three body armor covered men burst into the room. They fired their suppressed weapons at Signal and Jon. Signal turned just as a bullet impacted his head and shoulder. He collapsed to the floor.
Jon grunted as seven rounds slammed into his head, neck, and chest. He slumped to the side, red stains pooling on his hospital gown. A steady stream of blood spilled from the top of his head to the side of the bed. Grey matter and gore were splattered all over the wall behind him.
Signal was sprawled on the ground, his head cloudy due to the concussion he just endured. His hands were slick from Jon's blood. He struggled to collect himself.
'Game plan. Now.' Signal thought. He reached for a smoke grenade first but opted instead for a flashbang. He needed visibility.
"Confirmed hit on both targets. The witness is dead. Approaching the Bat with caution." One of the thugs said.
Signal flung the explosive behind the bed, its explosion disorienting the soldiers. Signal pounced. The Meta slammed the first one's head into the wall three times, before jumping to try next. He punched him twice in the jaw, slamming his face into the side table. Signal whipped around to see the third and final thug had regained his senses, leveling his gun at the vigilante.
CLANG!
Signal flung his batarang with incredible speed, knocking the gun to the ground.
"SEND BACKUP!" He yelled into his Comm, just before Signal's elbow knocked him unconscious. He clutched his nose, which he just realized was bleeding. Body armor could only stop so much.
CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!
Military Boots coming down the hall. It's go time.
Signal sprinted towards the window, reaching the glass just as Penguin's men arrived. He flipped through the window, smashing it as volleys of bullets came after him. He was struck 3 times in the back, but gritted his teeth and ignored it. The meta raised an arm and fired his grappling gun.
BANG!
He gripped it tightly and swung through the air, grunting with pain. He landed softly on the ground, straddling his motorcycle. Signal revved it and took off. He raised a shaking hand and pressed his comm.
"Batwing, my comms were jammed. Alert the others."
He took a few calming breaths before continuing.
"I think we just walked into a trap."
Gotham, 12:09 AM. Winter Twilight.
It was quiet.
Nightwing stalked around the parking lot, sticking to the shadows. The moon was obscured by clouds. Other than the street lamps it was completely dark out. This worked to the vigilante's advantage. Low visibility meant that he would be hard to see, especially with his suit in stealth mode.
"Nightwing to Cave. At the parking lot. There isn't a lot of activity out here, despite the explosion."
"Cave here. Sounds strange." Batwing agreed. "You would think Black Mask would be on high alert after the disturbance."
The Acrobat kept his Comm line open as he took a gander around the area. All remained still.
"Agreed. Will be extra cautious during recon. Nothing much to report so fa-wait."
"What is it?"
Nighwting noticed that one area of the ground was darker in uneven blotches. He went to a knee and scanned it with his lenses. His eyes got wide.
"Explosive residue. The detonation was contained, but powerful. And the temperature had to have been north of 4,000 degrees Fahrenheit."
"Damn." Batwing whistled.
He scanned again, this time for the chemicals involved.
"Red phosphorus, petroleum, a hint of thermite. This guy's good. Red phosphorus is easier to contain than it's white counterpart. The petrol was added to increase the burn and smoke. Thermite must've been an additive. Batwing, cross reference the explosive materials with past crimes in Gotham."
"Already did. And you won't like what came up."
"Fill me in."
"Nah. The explosive materials came back as an exact match to a bombing 3 years ago."
"Riddler?" Nightwing suggested.
"Try Cluemaster."
"Cluemaster? He's back in Gotham?"
"Hold up. Just got a transmission from Signal. He confirmed with the witness from Port Adams that Cluemaster was there. And he works for Penguin."
"It just gets better and better." Nightwing lamented.
"So if Cluemaster was at the docks. And his bomb was used against Black Mask's men…"
"Penguin is at war with Black Mask."
"Signal's comms just cut off!"
"What? Are you sure?"
"Heavy interference over the line, the connection dropped mid sentence. Collect those samples and boogie. I have a bad feeling about this."
Dick removed a pair of forensic tweezers and picked up remnants of bomb shrapnel. Next, he scrapped up the chemical residue with a cotton cloth. Both samples dropping it into a seperate evidence pouch and stuffed into his utility belt.
"Okay Batwing, I'm-BZZZZZT-WHIIIIIIIIR!"
"Shit!" Dick exclaimed, shutting his Comm off. A chill ran down his spine as he realized he wasn't alone.
BRAKA BRAKA! BRAKA BRAKA! BRAKA BRAKA!
Black Mask's men launched a heavy assault on Nightwing, their assault rifles blasting volley after volley in his direction. He sprung backwards, coasting through the air before hiding behind a concrete column. It crumbled under fire.
He attempted to use his detective mode to get a bead in his assailants, but saw nothing but static.
"Fuck! They're jamming my comms and my mask? Who's giving all these goons anti-Bat tech?" He asked with exasperation.
"Smoke grenades won't do me good, my visibility is shit already. I'll have to blind them briefly."
BRAKA BRAKA! BRAKA BRAKA! BRAKA BRAKA!
Nightwing covered his head as concrete shrapnel and hot metal landed on top of him. He couldn't stay here. The vigilante dashed from left to right, zigzagging as more rounds were pumped in his direction. He looked around a few times before spotting worthy cover. He grabbed a chunk of concrete that had broken off from the main column.
"Here goes nothin!" He exclaimed.
Nightwing flung it through the window of a car on the opposite side of the parking lot. Gunfire focused on the car he struck, sparks and fragments flying. He sprang up and sprinted away from his hiding spot, diving behind a white van. Bullets began whizzing in his direction again. The vigilante produced a flash bang grenade and a winding from his utility belt. First he tossed the flashbang.
BRRING!
Next was the wingding.
FWEE!
He cracked the first guy between his eyes, dropping him. Nightwing sprinted and jumped on the second thug, slamming an armored elbow against his nose. The Acrobat pounced and tackled the third man, landing five furious punches on his sternum and face. He didn't get up. Next up.
BIFF!
Hard elbow to the jaw and stomach, followed by a roundhouse kick. Next u-
BRAKA BRAKA!
"Ah!" Nightwing yelled in pain, two bullets punching through his body armor. He was hit in his left trap and side. A hail of bullets flew in his direction. Adrenaline pumped through Nightwing's veins as he dragged his body to a hiding spot by another van. He looked around the corner.
PKOW!
That one missed, but barely, Blood ran down his abdomen and through his fingers as he clutched his wound. He could hear the thugs approaching.
"Target hit bad. We'll get in close for a kill shot, Mr. Sionis." His delivery was stone cold.
The gangsters surrounded Nightwing, barrels aimed at his black emblem. His chest rose and fell with a staggered quickness, blood covering the insignia above his sternum. He clutched an escrima stick in his free hand, gritting his teeth at the goons. One of them stepped forward, unholstering a custom made handgun. It was silver and gorgeous, covered in engravings of roses and skulls. He leveled it with Nightwing's head, eyes between the barrel. The vigilante closed his eyes with a sigh.
BLAM!
Blood splattered across the Acrobat's face, and on the car door behind his head.
The gunmen jumped at the gunshot. Nightwing opened his eyes. He was shocked to see a body slump next to him. His would be murderer had been shot through the throat, half decpaitating him. A few pathetic gurgles escaped his lips as he lost his life.
"SNIPER!" one of the gangsters yelled, the squad scrambling for cover.
Black Mask's men trained their fire towards one of the rooftops. Bullets rained down on them. Nightwing struggled to control his breathing. He groaned and pressed a hand to his side. The suit was designed to pressurize against any breaches, but it was moving much slower than programmed. These were not run of the mill armor piercing rounds.
The thugs attempted to draw out the sniper. Some laid suppressing fire while others fired more precise shots at the rooftop. All would be still, and then more sniper fire rained down on them.
BLAM!
Bullet to the center of the chest. Dead before hitting the ground.
BLAM!
This shot was flashy, blasting through the scope of the gun. The goon's eyeball mixed with gun fragments as he met the ground.
BLAM! BLAM!
First round blasted through a vertebrae below the ribs. Next one was through the forehead, just as the gunman fell to his knees.
One by one, they all dropped to the ground. Each shot was perfectly placed. Nightwing stared in shock as the last thug was shot dead. He looked up to the roof where the shots had originated from. His vision was blurry from the lense jammers, but he could make out some of the gunman's features.
Red mask. White lenses. And a smoking gun in his hand.
The figure locked eyes with Nightwing, then ran. Nightwing raised his arm to grapple after the shooter. He wheezed and doubled over coughing, spitting out a few gouts of blood.
"You won't escape me that easy…" Nightwing growled, pulling out a shot of adrenaline from his belt. He jammed it into his thigh hastily. He had already lost enough time. A burning and tingling sensation ran up his leg and into his stomach, exploding across all his limbs. First came the groans, then a yell.
BANG!
Nightwing fired his grappling stick and zipped through the air. He spotted the sniper across the two rooftops over, opting to fire his escrima stick swung through the air, staring down at the shooter running below. Nightwing fell freely through the air, his trajectory perfect.
"UFF!"
Or so he thought.
Nightwing sprang to his feet and resumed the chase on foot. He was jumping over vents and roof fixtures, about 15 feet behind the target. Nightwing was more careful this time, carefully examining each obstacle. He had learned from his last tumble. The masked man ahead of him was good.
Too good.
Nightwing wasn't holding up well physically. He could feel his arms and body getting heavy. An attempt to ignore the exhaustion was met with a swift rebuttal by his body. He was close to the edge of the building, which his target had already jumped off of. The vigilante fell to a knee, unholstering his batclaw and firing it at the gunman. The cord swiftly began wrapping around the sniper's ankle. He gripped the gadget with two hands, preparing to yank the suspect back towards him.
Nightwing gasped as the sniper jumped into the air and flung a sharpened projectile at the cord, slicing the wire before it went taut. The masked man didn't look back as he continued his descent, disappearing into the black.
Nigthwing raised his grappling hook, but fell to a knee. Blood started to pool under him. The rigorous activity had caused his suit to expand, leaving his wounds open. A heaviness wooled over his eyes. A chill coated his skin. His body went slack, pitching forward and falling on his face. He looked at the projectile the sniper had flung, which was embedded in the ground 5 feet from his head.
A black batarang.
Nightwing pressed his comm, but it was still fried. He groaned in pain and accepted his fate.
Suddenly, a flash of blue and red flew across his line of sight. He was going in and out of consciousness at this point. He thought he recognized the pair of arms that scooped him off the ground. Nightwing passed out, just as he felt himself get lifted off the ground.
Gotham, 11:59 PM. Winter Night.
Batgirl landed softly on a building's rooftop, her cape fluttering behind her. There was a soft beep as she pressed a finger to her cowl. The lenses magnified her vision, making it easier to scan the dock. Burly dockhands and gangsters littered the wharf, either a crate or a gun in hand. The armed men wore shimmering body armor and night vision goggles. The workers were armed had a bat or a chain nearby. The Heroine pressed a finger to her Comm.
"Batgirl to Cave."
"Go on, Batgirl." Batwing responded.
"At Breyfogle docks. Won't be on comms much, too many wandering ears. Will focus on recon and send pictures of evidence to the Batcomputer."
"Sounds good. Stay safe out there."
"Always, Batwing. Batgirl out."
She jumped to the ground and began a stealthy advance through the dock. She ducked behind crates and forklifts, using the lack of moonlight as cover. Batgirl noticed two dock workers conversing while unloading a small cargo ship. She used her lenses to take a picture of the boat's name, before using her cowl's mic to pick up on the conversion.
"Why don't we get the fancy armor?" One of the henchmen complained.
"Penguin's supplier is only offering limited amounts of that fancy anti-Bat tech. And it's being given to the best of the us."
"You saying I'm not good enough?" the man's voice sparked with anger.
"Yes that's exactly what I'm saying. And neither am I. Now get over it."
Batgirl ran the boat's name through Gotham's Maritime database.
"S.S. Wrath. Doesn't exist. But I bet if I got on board…"
Batgirl grappeled up again, silently gliding over the heads of the goons. She cut throught the and landed on the ship's deck. A few quick glances revealed a hatch, which he threw open to board the vessel. A soft tone was emitted as she activated her detective mode.
"No life forms detected." her cowl confirmed.
Her boots clacked softly against the grated floor with each step. Batgirl's black cape and auburn hair swayed behind her gracefully. She took the stairs down into the cargo hold, following the schematics she memorized just an hour or so before. Rows and rows of crates sat beside each other. Some were black, some were blue, and the rest were green. Batgirl reached into her utility belt, pulling out a titanium bladed tucker. With a jam and a grunt of effort, she popped open the top of the black wooden box. A soft smile washed over her features.
"Bingo."
The first container was full of firearms, military grade and unused. Batgirl picked up one of the submachine guns. She used her gloved palm to brush off shreds of packing paper from the weapon. A beep came from her lenses after she confirmed it's make, model, and rifling.
"Yup, matches the Port Adams shooting. It was Penguin after all."
She cracked a blue crate, this one containing body armor. It shimmered between blue and black under the naked eye, but was invisible to her detective mode. She grabbed a scalpel from her waist, slicing off a strip of the armor. He dropped it into an evidence pouch at her hip.
"And lastly…: she said dramatically, popping open the green container. Her eyes widened for the first time that night.
The container was full of custom made blades. She picked up a KA-BAR knife. A quick scan revealed its origin.
"This is an authentic KA-BAR knife handle, but the steel blade has been modified. It's been removed and replaced with a titanium polymer alloy. These knives are strong enough to slice through my cables and my body armor."
She put the knife in an evidence bag, placing it in a utility pouch below her back.
"Someone is supplying Penguin with Anti-Bat tech. He's at war with us."
Batgirl decided it was time to go. She replaced the crate tops and turned.
CLICK CLICK!
The sounds of guns being cocked echoed through the boat. 9 laser sights were aimed at the emblem on her chest.
"We finally meet, Batgirl." a cold voice said, emerging from the crowd of gunmen. He was in bulletproof vest and an orange sleeved shirt, his long ponytail swinging with each step.
"Cluemaster." Batgirl said disdainfully. He chuckled at her.
"One and only. Oh boys. Don't aim for the chest. It's where the armor is strongest. You gotta shoot for the shoulders, delts and traps. Cracks open the armor like an egg. A tip from our friend."
The lasers swayed from her chest to her shoulder area. Bargirl's eyes darted around. She needed a plan, and fast.
"What are you doing in Gotham? And why did you shoot up Port Adams?" she accused.
"Cleaning up house. Penguin is making a move. But you've probably figured that out already, haven't you?"
"They were innocent! And you murdered them in cold blood!"
Batgirl softly turned her wrist, causing three miniature stingball grenades to fall into her hand. She had mapped out an escape route. Smoke would've been preferable, but their night vision goggles would cut straight through it.
Cluemaster's body language got rigid. So did Batgirl's. She pulled the pins on her grenades.
"She's stalling! Enough of this! FIRE!" he yelled.
FTT-TT! PING!
She flung the non lethal explosives at the men aiming at her. Silenced gunfire sprayed in Batgirl's direction just as the bombs went off.
The goons yelled in pain. The grenade unleashed a loud pop, causing their ears to ring. Hot rubber balls slammed into their faces and chests, causing some to collapse.
Batgirl sprinted down a hallway, her boots clacking loudly this time. The thugs had recovered, shooting down the breezeway.
BAP!
A hiss escaped her lips as a round impacting her thigh. She stumbled but kept running. Batgirl girl jumped out the boat, raising her arm to grapple away.
BLAM!
Cluemaster's aim was precise, blasting the grappling hook out of her hand. She winced and clutched her wrist, running for cover as more bullets whizzed near her.
FTT-TT-TT!
A barrage of rounds slammed into her back. Batgirl gasped for breath, trying to collect the wind that had been knocked out of her. Just as her breaths became even, a stun grenade landed at her feet. She covered her eyes in desperation.
BRRING!
She collapsed, blinded and injured. Her torso was sore from bullets stopped by her body armor. The grenade had launched a chunk of metal into her thigh. She was gushing from her leg and nose, coughing up blood as she laid on her back.
Cluemaster and his goons stood over her, silent. He pulled out his .44, lining it up with her exposed chin.
"I don't know why you idiots don't just shoot these Bats in the face. It's literally unarmored."
BLAM!
He fired.
ZOOM!
She was…gone. A red and yellow flash had buzzed in and snatched her away.
Cluemaster looked up in confusion, as did the rest of his guys.
"Dammit! " he yelled, kicking at the ground where she was previously laying. He pressed his Comm.
"Batgirl got away. Appears to be Meta interference."
He paused for a moment.
"Signal too? Dammit. DAMMIT! We can't be so sloppy next time." he said furiously.
"I….yes. Sorry, Mr. Cobblepot. I won't let you down again."
Cluemaster sighed and holstered his handgun.
"Hurry up and unload that boat. We don't have a lot of time! Alpha team, help get the crates in the trucks. We need that gear back at the Iceberg Lounge! Delta team, create a perimeter! No one else is going to interfere tonight! After Alpha team leaves, you take the second truck and take it to the warehouse in Miagani. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!" they bellowed, assuming their positions.
Above them, two figures landed on a rooftop overlooking the docks. Both scanned the area with their white lensed domino masks. They nodded at each other. The taller of the vigilantes pulled out a disrupter, aiming it at the trucks.
FWEE! FWEE!
2 trackers flew out the barrel and silently latched themselves to each white tractor trailer.
"Muskatiki!*" He breathed.
"I take the truck heading south, you take the truck heading north?" His companion offered, her features hidden under a hood.
"Sounds good to me. We'll strike once they've reached their targets. We destroy those weapons and they'll get desperate. That will get us one step closer to taking down Cluemaster."
"Sounds good."
The two vigilantes remained in the shadows, waiting patiently.
Arabic translation
Muskatiki : Gotcha / I caught you
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