Chapter 2: Trips and Bullets

"Um, I'm doing what? I must have misunderstood you. I thought you said you're commandeering a GART train."

"Wrong."

"Whew." Somehow, that sounded illegal. Not that all of the things that we do are totally above board, but I try to avoid federal crimes. At least for things other than hacking.

"No, wrong as in I'm not commandeering a train, you are." Oracle wheeled to a trapdoor and motioned me to open it.

That's what I was afraid of. Ok, well, Oracle hasn't steered me wrong yet, so I guess I can try anything once. I am getting kind of curious about just what she has in mind. I pull up the door, which opens up to a narrow shaft with rungs along the side to climb down. My mini flashlight reveals train tracks at the bottom, about 10 feet below where the shaft and rungs stop. Interesting, I didn't realize that the GART ran right underneath the clocktower. How convenient… I wonder how Oracle managed that little deed. I turn back towards her, intending to ask, but she's communing with her laptop again.

She looks up and motions toward the trapdoor. "Ok, I don't have time to give you the whole story right now, but basically the GART trains are controlled by computers, and I've hacked their system. The next Gotham-Bludhaven train will unexplainably grind to a halt right below us. You'll have about 30 seconds to get into a compartment that should be right under this shaft. I'll also speed the train up as fast as is safe. You can get into the compartment by prying up a panel. It should come right up, and it'll be a little tight, but you should be ok. We got lucky; the next train is only about a minute and a half away. Get down there."

Jeez, Nightwing, the things I do for you. I clamber down the hole and wait. Sure enough, I can hear the train coming. I can hear the brakes screeching, as it nears me. Bright lights flash me in the eyes as the train slows to a stop below me. As soon as it stops, I drop, searching for the compartment. Like Oracle said, the panel right below the shaft moves, and I slide into a cramped, dark area. I just have time to pull the panel closed before the train starts to move again.

I take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart and my adrenaline rush subsides to a more normal level. Although it's tight, I manage to reach up and activate my ear communicator. "Made it, Oracle. I feel like I'm in a coffin. Think you can tell me how you managed that little piece of ingenuity?" I hear a sigh of relief. Hey, she was actually worried. That tells me something about the stupidity of what I just did. I think I won't tell Bruce that I just boarded a train, in a manner that could splatter me against a tunnel wall, with only 5 seconds to spare.

"Glad you made it, Boy Wonder. How'd it work?"

"Don't tell me no one has ever done this before. Haven't you ever heard of a test run? I guess it went ok, the panel came up fine, but it would be nice to have a few extra seconds to try to avoid the train starting till I'm in. There's not a lot of room to go if you're halfway in. The shaft's only a few feet long, if the train gets started with someone's head sticking out, it ain't gonna be pretty." I shudder, since no one can see me. I can't show fear when anyone is watching, it isn't macho. Bat people always have to be macho. Company policy.

"Ok, maybe I can elongate the shaft at the bottom, just to have a little more time to work with. I can't really stop the train for a whole lot longer, it cools down and takes too long to get up to speed again. Anyway, it worked, and when you get out you'll be in the open air so that shouldn't be that hard. There's a latch on the right hand side, to get out just release that and push. You should be in Bludhaven in about 6 minutes, since I've got the train going full throttle."

"Ha, I bet the engineer is nice and confused by now." I get a mental picture of a typical train engineer, complete with little blue pinstripes, banging frantically on the computer switchboard.

She chuckles, "I imagine this train will get a full overhaul tomorrow. Maybe I should randomly stop a train every once in a while, just so I don't attract attention to where it stopped."

"Yeah, you can start a whole 'Haunted GART' legend. Anyway, I want to know how you managed to get GART to go right under the clock tower, and how that train has a compartment just the right size."

"Well, I'd love to take credit for masterminding the whole thing, but it was mostly luck and a little brain power to figure out how to make it work. See, the GART always went under the clocktower, on its way from the Main Gotham station towards the bay and Bludhaven. Since it's so far down, I never heard it or anything, and I was looking at the schematics for another reason altogether when I noticed it. It just seemed like a good thing to have available…"

"Especially with Dick alone in Bludhaven. Nice to have it closer." I squirmed a little. This is definitely not the place that I would choose to ride the train in. I have some kind of knob drilling a hole right between my shoulder blades, and my legs are starting to cramp from being curled up.

"Precisely. Plus the compartment was already there, I just had to have one of my operative sneak over to the yard, and make a few minor modifications so that it would easily open and close."

"Allow me to suggest a cushion in any future modifications." Either that or a hacksaw. That knob is killing me.

"Oh, you can make it. You're almost there. As soon as the train stops, get out and get away, then contact me and I'll direct you to Dick. He just called again and gave me a few more details. Looks like he made a couple of drug lords mad."

"What'd he do?"

"In his own words, and I quote, 'All I did was burn a warehouse full of coke'."

"A… warehouse full?"

"Yeah, at least 35 million dollars worth."

"Whoa. You'd think these guys would be smart enough not to stack it up so nice for him." The train started to slow down and I tense. "Ok, Oracle, the train's stopping, talk to you in a few." Since the train has come above ground now, I unlatch the panel while the train is still moving. I am out and off of the train by the time that it totally stops. I crouch on top of the train station to contact Oracle again. Total trip time of 11 minutes, 47 seconds. Pretty good for a 25-35 minute drive. "Ok, where's Dick?"

"I haven't talked to him for a few minutes, but last contact was about 2 blocks south and 4 blocks east. Be careful, I think that there are more people after him that he wants to admit. Also, I've got a couple of other things happening right now, so I won't be in touch unless you need me. Let me know when you find Dick, though."

"OK, I'm on my way. Let me know if he contacts you again. Good luck with your stuff. Robin out." Bludhaven buildings are crammed so close together that the best way to get anywhere is the roofs. It should only take me a few minutes to get to where Nightwing last talked to Oracle. Hopefully, he's still in the area. It actually doesn't surprise me that he wouldn't tell Barbara about everybody after him. He hates worrying her. Still, we all know Dick doesn't call for help very often, so this can't be a good situation.

I'm almost there. I hear the sound of fighting coming from an alley near where Oracle directed me. I jump to the roof of one of the buildings lining the alley and look down into the semidarkness. Sure enough, there's Nightwing swapping punches with 3 gangbangers, while 4 more unconscious bodies litter the alley way floor.

Since he has the situation well under control, I pause a moment to catch my breath. He doesn't need my help with these guys and I don't want to mess with his concentration right now. The last thing you want is to distract someone who's defending himself. Unlike other superheroes, we have no powers, nothing to depend on except our training and our brains.

Most people don't realize that just one lucky punch could finish any one of us. If anyone ever gets lucky and knocks me out, I probably won't ever wake up again. Even the so-called 'super-villains' are getting wise to the fact that intricately planned deaths tend to backfire. A bullet to the head or a snapped neck is definitely more effective. Although this may seem kind of morbid, it's a facet of my life. Every night I have to be prepared for what ever might happen. We don't like to talk about it, but in our line of work bad things happen. For example, Jason and Barbara, and even what happened to Bruce. I'm aware of the possibilities, but I refuse to dwell on them. I'm not gonna quit, since I think that what I do has meaning and that I can really help people by donning the mask each night. Not to mention, it's such a rush.

I glance down again, as Nightwing delivers the final punch to the last man. I wince at the sodden thump of fist hitting, and breaking, nose. He's not pulling any punches tonight. I drop down the side of the building into the deep shadows in the back of the alley as he starts to tie the unconscious thugs up.

I'm just about ready to call out his name when he hears me, and whirls. Out of habit, I had secluded myself in the darkness, and he must not have been able to see me at all because suddenly I've got an escrima stick coming right at my jaw. Fast. My training kicks in and my collapsible bo stick extends and bats it out of the air about 2 inches from my face, as I flip back deeper into the shadows. Unfortunately, since I wasn't at all prepared for an attack, I land badly and the breath gets totally knocked out of me. Habit keeps me quiet. I don't have enough breath to tell Nightwing who I am and since it's really dark in this alley, I just hope that he recognizes me before he kicks my butt. I manage to stagger to my feet, still frantically taking in air, as Nightwing moves closer. "Not bad, not bad," It's one of his tactics to talk to the person he's trying to take down. Sometimes it provides just a little distraction, just enough to push the odds in his favor. Well, a little higher in his favor, since they're in his favor most of the time anyway. "Henderson must be actually worried to hire someone good to take care of me. Either that or smart."

He's waiting for me to move, since he can't see me in the darkness. I finally catch my breath. Using all of my self-control, I try not to croak or gasp as I speak. "Uh, actually, last time I checked, I was on your side. Thanks for the compliment, though."

"Robin?" I can visibly see Nightwing relax as I move toward the light. "How the heck did you get here so fast? I about took your head off."

"Trust me, I know. You're jumpy tonight."

"Yeah, well you try spending over an hour on the run from most of Bludhaven's lower element and see how jumpy you are." Nightwing is agitated, although not so anybody else could notice.

"Jeez, sorry, just making a comment. No need to hurt me or anything."

"No, I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair. "I just feel like I'm going around in circles. Let me fill you in."

"Sure, hold on a second, let me let Oracle know that I found you." After attending to that little bit of business, Nightwing and I took a fire escape back up to the roofs. Well, we took the fire escape, but not exactly on foot. I was able to jump to each level, while Dick just did some kind of acrobatic flip thing. He makes that kind of stuff look very easy, but take it from someone who had to learn, the only thing easy about acrobatic stuff is how easy it is to play connect the dots with your bruises. It took me a good year before I could even come close to doing what Dick and Bruce do, and Dick is still way better than I'll ever be.

We hit the rooftops with a vengeance, since Nightwing hates to keep still. Somehow he is able to concentrate while swinging through the air. Must be something from the circus. While we head towards… wherever Nightwing wants to go, he fills me in on the details of his latest escapades. "Babs told you about the little warehouse I torched, right?" At my nod he continued, "I've been keeping an eye on the ringleader of a drug ring, the guy's name is Henderson. I've kinda been ignoring him personally, just focusing on the dealers and busting a lab here and there. Actually, for a while I didn't even know anything about him, just that he was the leader. So, I was expecting your typical gangbanger dope pusher. Imagine my surprise to find out that he is a 'respectable' politician in the state capitol."

Surprisingly, I'm actually keeping up with Dick. I'd like to think that I'm getting better, but I think he's just a little tired. That or he's slowing down so he doesn't embarrass me. We land to take a breather on the top of the Bludhaven Astoria, and Dick finishes his narrative. "To make a long story short, I know Henderson is involved with the drug trade. However, the one guy I was able to get to confess mysteriously disappears from jail, and all traces of him are erased."

"Does this surprise you? If Henderson is as powerful as you say, he probably has more friends on the Bludhaven police force than he has in his own family." I sometimes forget how little support Nightwing has around here. In Gotham, we may not always have the direct approval of the law, but they're also willing to let us be. In Bludhaven, the direct approval of the law tends to be with the bad guys.

Nightwing grimaces. "I know, you don't need to remind me about bent cops. But now that Henderson knows I know, he'd prefer I didn't know. Guess how he's trying to make sure I don't know?" Rhetorical questions like that don't need to be answered. "Anyway, that's why most of his drug gang is gunning for me tonight. And it turns out he's actually a pretty good general, since he hid men at most of the places that I usually stop at…" His voice trails off as something occurs to him.

"Let me guess, you usually stop here, right?" The question is not answered, except by gunshots. Bullets whistle through the air. Lucky for us, these guys aren't all that good of shots. Still, you know what they say. Heaven save you from a lucky gunman.

Nightwing yells, "Down!" but I'm already moving. There's only two places on this particular roof that provide any cover, and since the bullets are coming from one of them, that kind of lowers our options. The quiet one is a stairwell access, with about 6-foot brick walls that extend along one corner. I'm closer, and I get there first.

Whoops! Looks like there was a gunman posted here, too. Unfortunately for him, he fell asleep. He's frantically scrambling for his gun when I round the corner. He looks up at me and his eyes just about pop out of his skin. Maybe I look ticked or something. Good, cause I am. I have a natural aversion to being shot at. Then Nightwing comes over the top of the wall and almost lands on top of the poor guy. He wobbles his gun back and forth, unsure which of us to shoot first. I kick the gun out of his hand as Nightwing punches him in the jaw. Needless to say, the guy crumples.

Shoving the now unconscious gunman to one side, Nightwing squats beside me. The other gunman across the roof continues firing like there's no tomorrow. Idiot, what does he think that he'll hit if we're hidden. He's just wasting bullets. I do have a question though. "Out of curiosity, why didn't he start shooting when we first got here? Why wait?"

Nightwing shrugs, "Maybe he was ordered to see if I did anything to give away my identity, especially if I was talking to anybody else. It's reasonably well known that I'm in contact with someone frequently. Speaking of which, I forgot, I was going to open a channel to Babs so I wouldn't have to repeat this story more than once. Oh well, I'll fill her in later. Anyway, I've told you pretty much everything that I know. Except how to undeclare open season on me."

"Um, Nightwing, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's been open season for quite a while now. Y'know, like since you were 8?"

"Wise guy. I think our best bet is to locate Dutch."

"And who's he?"

"Henderson's right hand man. Big guy. Probably the one who actually called the hit on me. Take him down, it'll take the heat off me, not to mention put a big hole in Henderson's operation. It'll give me time to dig up some more evidence against him."

"Hey, maybe he'll spill on Henderson."

"Not likely." Our intrepid gunman across the roof pauses to reload and starts blasting away again. "Is it just me or are you getting tired of being shot at?" Nightwing gives me a wicked grin and pulls a couple of his throwing 'wings' from his boot. I have to admit that even though I know Dick personally and think of him as a brother, he can look downright sinister when he wants to. He wants to now. "What say we cook his goose for him."

"Don't bother wasting those on him, this'll take care of him." I pull a little pellet about the size of my thumb from my belt. A quick twist to arm it and I pop up and toss it across the roof. A near perfect throw, it rolls to rest only about a foot from where the shots are originating. A couple more seconds and it starts letting out a variety of tear gas. It's only potent for about a minute and a half, but that's long enough to have our 'goose' rolling on the ground in pain, clutching his eyes and throat.

We walk over to him, as Nightwing whines, "But my way is more fun…"

"Yeah, but my way leaves him conscious. Crying, but conscious." It's amazing what tear gas will do to someone. Turns a tough guy into a crying, sniveling baby faster than a kick to the groin.

"Ah, so you do listen when we teach you stuff. Waddya know? You up for a little good cop/bad cop?" That particular routine is one that I use a lot when partnered with someone other than Batman. With Bruce, all he has to do is glare at the guy and suddenly he's spilling his life story. Unfortunately, I haven't figured out how to inspire that kind of fear. So Nightwing and I have to work for our info.

"Ok, but you're the bad cop. Last time I tried this was with Young Justice and I had to be the bad cop. Let's just be real polite and say that it didn't work to well." I'm being reeal polite. I'm being so polite I could be Alfred's butler-in-training.

Nightwing gave me a funny look. "Why? I think you could pull off scary."

I shuddered, remembering that night. "Yeah, but Impulse wanted to be the good cop." I swear, that kid has had me more frustrated than you can even imagine. There is something wrong with a world that lets a speedster be hyperactive. Bart kept running off when he was supposed to be holding me back. Bad cop/good cop does not work when the good cop is in China to get the perp a cup of tea. "I think he got a little carried away with the 'good' idea."

"I see your point. I'll be bad cop." Nightwing doesn't have a very high opinion of Impulse. It probably stems from the time that Impulse was in the Titans. Dick's a great leader, but Impulse didn't give him much to work with. Heck, he doesn't give me much to work with sometimes, although I have noticed a little improvement the last couple of months. Maybe his guardian, what's his name? Max something, is finally teaching Bart that the rest of the world doesn't run at 1000 miles per hour.

Nightwing bends over the gunman, now minus gun, and pulls him upright. I almost feel sorry for the guy. He can barely see, his eyes, throat, and nose are still burning, and now he gets Nightwing in his face. Not to mention a razor sharp 'wing tucked right behind his ear. "Robin, I am getting really tired of being shot at." His voice is conversational, but lowers to a menacing growl as he says, "Really tired. Maybe if I kill this one the rest will get the hint."

I have to give the guy credit. He has more guts than brains. He's getting nervous, but manages to answer with a little attitude. "Hey, man, you can't trip me out. Word is that Batman don't kill. I ain't…"

Nightwing interrupts. "That's right, he doesn't. But tell me, wise guy, do I look like Batman to you? No pointy ears, no cape. To tell you the truth, I'm getting tired of people comparing us. I need a way to make things clear to Bludhaven that I mean business. Maybe if I send you to the various crime bosses… in pieces." The 'wing in his hand traces lazy circles in the guy's face.

He looks at me in panic and blubbers, "Please… don't let…" Nightwing clamps an iron fist around his throat, effectively silencing anything else he may have wanted to say. Time for my part.

I extend my bo stick and move so that I'm almost between the other two. Hooking the end of the bo on one of the curves in Nightwing's 'wing, I use my leverage to shove it away from the man's face. Nightwing gives me his best impression of 'the look', and I am mentally glad that I know that he's kidding. I'd probably react the same way if he ever really went rogue, but trying to take him down or stop him in that situation would be the hardest thing I've ever had to do. My only hope in that situation would be to try to keep him occupied until help got here. Anyway, enough of those morose thoughts. I've got a part to play. "Look, Nightwing, I know that you're frustrated, but there's no need to go overboard. Back off a little, ok? Look, go check on the other guy, we don't want him getting away."

Nightwing growls at me, but heads off towards where we left our first intrepid gunman. I crouch down to speak to this one. "Look, he's serious about this stuff. He's been going a little crazy lately, and I can't stop him if he decides to kill you. The only way I can help you is to get his mind on somebody else. So, I'll make it real clear for you. Answer some questions, and I'll get him not to kill you. First, what's your name?"

"My name's Mario, but I ain't telling ya nothing more than that." He's feeling better now that Nightwing is a good 10 feet away.

"Your choice, man." I turn to watch Nightwing, who is dragging gunman #1 towards the edge of the roof. Mario looks on in horror as he kicks him over the edge, supposedly to fall to the street 10 stories down. I mentally congratulate Dick. He really looks like he's committing cold blooded murder, only I happen to remember that that side of the roof is where the fire escape is. He'll only fall about 6 feet, if even that. I also bet that Nightwing has a line attached to the guy so that there is no way that his fall will hurt him. Nightwing looks over the edge for a while, giving Mario the idea that he's glorying in the carnage below. I turn back to face Mario, who is now ready to tell me anything that I want to know.

About five minutes later, I know the general location of several more drug labs, one money laundering operation, and the location of Dutch's hideout. I signal to Nightwing, who has been pacing the roof behind me, glaring at Mario and slapping a 'wing against his glove covered palm. "Got it."

Nightwing's face melts back into normalcy. He gives me a nod of appreciation. "Good job." He drops over the side of the roof to recover the still unconscious gunman #1, as I tie up Mario. Mario realizes he was scammed when Nightwing appears with the other gunman over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Nightwing binds his man, while I listen to Mario cussing me out. It's actually rather amusing, until that same obscene reference to my mother is made. For the second time in one day, I feel my world go red as I try to control my temper. My bo extends of it's own accord, and I take a step towards Mario. Nightwing notices and gets in between us. "Calm down," he mutters to me under his breath. He turns and gags the now quiet Mario. Turning back towards me he looks me in the eye and asks, "Are you ok? I hardly ever see you lose it like that."

I don't really want to talk about it right now, but I owe him an explanation. As we leave the rooftop and head towards downtown, I fill him in on the events of my P.E. class. He doesn't really say anything for a few minutes after I finish, and I start to feel kind of stupid, like I'm making a big deal out of nothing. Before I can try to change the subject, however, he motions me towards another convenient rooftop. "I just want to tell you that I understand how hard it is sometimes. I think you may have it harder than either Bruce or I did, since Bruce had Alfred and I had both of them. Even though it wasn't always easy for me to be Dick Grayson at school, and it wasn't always easy to be Robin every night, I did have most afternoons to just be me, someone who's a mixture of both. With you in Brentwood, I think that it's understandable that you have some problems differentiating between the masks and the real you."

Nightwing and I sit on the edge of the building, dangling our feet 13 stories above the ground. I really appreciate getting Dick's opinion on this stuff, since I consider him the ultimate role model. He would probably be surprised to know this, considering his ultimate role model is Bruce. He probably thinks that I'm the same way. However, if I had to pick between the two, I think I'd choose Dick. Part of this is left over from childhood, when he was my hero. Mostly, though, the reason is because Dick is willing to be more than a partner. He's willing to be my friend. I think over what he said to me. "I really do ok, I just don't know how to deal with the conflicts between Tim and Robin. I hate to do what Bruce did and turn my identity into a shallow person. But I don't know how to balance it so that it doesn't turn out that way."

"I wish I could tell you what to do, but I think that you'll have to come up with your own balancing act. Don't be afraid to talk to either me or Babs. We know where you're coming from. Maybe we can't do anything but listen, but sometimes that'll be all you need."

"Thanks, Dick." I feel a little better already, just knowing that my anger wasn't stupid.

"Although I'd be happy to go beat down on the Thurns kid if you want me to…"

"Nah, I'll figure out a way to handle that. You ready to tackle Dutch?" I stood, ready to go.

"Sure, but you'd better tell me where we're going first."

"The Zee Moores."

"Where else?" Nightwing grumbles as we swing into the night. Dutch, you'd better get ready. Cause we're coming for you.

Second chaper down! Thanks to everyone who gave me reviews. I appreciate it. And no, I won't be hurting the boys. I like them the way that they are, too! More on the way, but I tried not to leave as much of a cliffhanger because it's going to be a couple of days before I even have time to think about working on the next chapters. They're in my head, but finding the time to get them to the computer is tough. Especially during midterms. So, I'll do my best to get the rest to you all soon. Thanks again, and feel free to give me constructive criticism, 'cause I know this isn't perfect…