Nightwing: Brutality Chapter 4: Nightbird In the Daylight, a birds of prey fanfic

Chapter Four: Nightbird in the Daylight

Dick ran quickly through the entrance of the office, slamming the door behind him, but neglecting to lock it, or even flip the sign to "closed." He continued straight up the stairs next to his desk, and rounded the corner towards his apartment entrance, loosening his tie, and removing his suspenders on the way. He stopped next to the broom closet outside his apartment door, and opened it. The hinges creaked with age and years, as he swung the door open. Dick closed the worn door behind him, and reached in the dark for a thin chain hanging from the ceiling. He pulled the chain and the single bare bulb it was connected to lit up.

The closet was small, just large enough for a few brooms, mops, a mop bucket, various cleaning agents, rags, and a vacuum cleaner. Dick stepped over one fallen mop towards the back wall of the closet. Mounted the back wall of the closet was the fuse box for the apartment and agency. Next to it, hung haphazardly, was an old analog clock. The hands on its face were motionless, the clock seemingly wound-down, or batteries dead. It was day-glo green, a holdover from the seventies, gaudy to eye, almost loud enough to hear. Anyone who happened upon it wouldn't give it a second look in this decrepit, dark, and cobweb crowded closet. And that was the point.

Dick reached towards the open face of the clock. The clear plastic that had once protected the hands was long gone. Dick repositioned the hands to 10:47. The back wall of the closet sunk further back, and then slid right, revealing the interior of a stark white elevator car behind. Dick got in, and pressed the "1" button on the controls. The closet wall in front of him slid back into place, leaving no trace of the lift that it concealed.

Dick continued to loosen his clothing, as the elevator descended, and thought on 10:47 for a moment. Ten forty-seven P.M that night so long ago; the moment when Bruce Wayne's parents were murdered in front of him. The moment the Batman was born in the soul of a young boy. When Dick was still Robin, and still the partner of Batman, 10:47 had been the key to the Batcave. An old grandfather clock in Bruce's study had concealed the entrance to the cave. Move the hands of the clock to 10:47, and that world of perpetual night would open unto you, thought Dick with a wry smile. Dick had modeled the hidden entrance to the Aerie after the one that led to the Batcave, though his green clock was far less ostentatious than the grandfather clock had been, and the broom closet far less impressive than Bruce's study. But each served their purpose well. And 10:47 served it's own purpose; a reminder of the reason why for Bruce, and to a certain degree, the same reminder for Dick.

The elevator came to a stop, and Dick exited quickly. In front of him was the costume "vault," or the "Dress-up Room" as Dick jokingly called it. The room was directly behind the agency, and wrapped around the left side of it as well, though from the outside, a passerby would never be able to tell. The room was like the elevator car behind him; stark white, seemingly sterilized. The bright white was a conscience decision on Dick's part, marking a separation from the world Batman had lived in. Bludhaven could be just as dark as Gotham had been, but Dick felt he didn't need to come "home" to the same darkness.

Six costumes lined two walls in the room, three on each side of Dick, all suspended by hangers on two chromed metal railings that were mounted about six feet off the ground between the far and near walls. A two-foot wide, waist-high, white cabinet, with a single door about two feet in width, sat in front of each costume. Each cabinet contained repair materials for the specific costume they fronted. On top of each cabinet was a single fiberglass bust, stark white as everything else, featureless, save for a nose. The masks for each corresponding costume were set on the busts.

There was little difference between each of the costumes, physically at least. Two of the six costumes had dark navy blue masks as opposed to the other four, which had jet-black facing. The two odd costumes were what Dick called "travel" costumes; they were slightly less armored than the others, to allow easier concealment. The other four were the heavier shielded and equipped suits; each suit was made up of triple-weave Kevlar body armor with the highest ballistics-rating that was available. The Kevlar was interwoven with flame-retardant Nomex textile. The Nomex, along with electronic cooling systems in the suit kept Nightwing comfortable in even the most extreme conditions. They had saved his life in more than one raging inferno. The masks of the suits contained an internal comm-link that enabled voice-command control of Nightwing's various equipment. Nightwing had a choice of either utility belt or wrist gauntlet when he went out on sweeps. The belt was a lighter carry, but with less cargo room, while the gauntlets offered easier access to equipment, but hampered his hand to hand fighting to a certain degree due to their weight. Nightwing usually left the gauntlets to "away" missions. An assortment of Batarangs, monofilament cord jumplines, and gas bombs were among the things that the utility belt could hold.

Dick left his clothing on the floor in a cluttered pile next to the nearest "home" costume, and quickly began to suit up. He put on the body suit, then slipped on his boots, steel-toed leather boots originally designed by Batman, augmented with Nomex-reinforced thermally-stable rubberized soles. Dick stood took the mask from the nearest bust, and then placed it on his face. The mask was held in place by a modified form of spirit-gum, tough enough that the adhesive wouldn't give during a fight or even due to profuse sweat, but not so tacky that it couldn't be removed by the wearer.

Nightwing walked to the end of the costume room and opened the single door there, directly opposite the elevator entrance. The door opened to the weapon room, blank white as the rest of the Aerie, but smaller than the costume area. The box-like room was lined with steel pegboard, like that found in hardware stores. From the hooks and pegs on the walls hung various weapons; swords, knives, larger Batarangs, staffs, and Escrima sticks. While some of these weapons were lethal, and he was trained in how to use each as such, Nightwing was expert in how to subdue and not kill with the same weapons. Dick reached for a near-by pair of Escrimas, made of a shatterproof polymer. The Escrimas were his preferred weapon. Nightwing had become a master of the fighting sticks long ago.

Nightwing twirled the Escrimas in his hands, getting the feel of the weapons, and stowed them the holsters on his back that he had designed into the costume. Nightwing jerked his head left to right, popping joints in his neck and spine. He ran his two gloved hands through his hair, smoothing it back, ruining the part that Dick had carefully put there that morning. Nightwing took his hands from his hair, straightened his arms in front of him, and clenched his fists, cracking the knuckles in the process. Nightwing ran through the weapon room door, straight through the costume room, and back into the waiting elevator car. Nightwing now pressed the "B1" button on the keypad. The elevator descended further.

The car's doors opened again, and Nightwing ran into the main vehicle bay. The main vehicle bay was directly under 1310 Parkthorne, and was about the width and length of the entire building. Nightwing kept a small plane at a private hanger in Bludhaven, and a jet-powered boat at a hidden private dock, but on-site was where he kept the three major land vehicles; Nightbirds One and Two, and an old Bat-cycle.

The Bat-cycle used to be Batman's personal Bat-bike, a jet-black modified street-bike with a 786 cc liquid-cooled V-4 engine, and a bat-motif. Nightbird One had been Nightwing's main vehicle for many years. The vehicle had many of the same modifications and hi-tech extras as Batman's sixth Batmobile. In addition to a WayneTech-modified 6,064 cc engine, the vehicle also had chassis locking clamps for interchangeable, carbon-fiber over aluminum endoskeleton body shell "disguises." Perfect camouflage. The Nightbird could be "dressed" as any number of vehicles; taxi, police cruiser, or more often than not, a primer-paint, beat-up looking, street racer. It was this car that Nightwing usually took out on sweeps. It could be parked in an alley and be left alone for it's looks, and if a thief did come nosing, it had more than enough anti-theft devices to keep itself secure. However, Nightwing determined he might need more than the standard Nightbird for his current problem. Nightbird Two would be deployed. If Nightbird One was a Stealth Bomber, then Nightbird Two was an A-10 Warthog Tank Killer.

Nightbird Two was only a year old. The car was built on the frame and chassis of a 2002 Dodge Viper. "Chick's love the car," Nightwing thought to himself at the time, mostly as jest. The black Viper looked stock from the outside, save for a dark blue Phoenix painted on the hood. While Nightbird One was based on the sixth Batmobile, Nightbird Two was modeled after the last and most powerful Batmobile, codenamed BM7. The 650 hp motor had been replaced with a WayneTech-designed 1,500 hp jet turbine engine. Nightbird Two was much heavier armored than Nightbird One, therefore it lent itself to higher-pressure missions. Auto-engaged twin-auxiliary fuel tanks gave the Nightbird Two considerable range and seven-day emergency rations and water stored in the trunk allowed for extended journeys outside of the city if necessary.

"Unlock," Nightwing stated, already speaking in his raspy baritone. The Nightbird's door lock clicked in response. Nightwing slipped into the car, and closed the door behind him. He had replaced the key ignition with a push-button one long ago, to mirror that of the Batmobile's. The engine roared to life, and Nightwing revved the engine, pumping on the gas.

"Tunnel One, door open," said Nightwing. Tunnel One out of the vehicle bay led to a seemingly rundown warehouse a few streets over from Parkthorne. Dick had purchased it a few years back and left the building mostly empty, save for the hidden exit of Tunnel One. The tunnel door slid open, and Nightwing shifted the Nightbird into gear.

"Giddyup horsie," said Nightwing to himself. The engine screamed as fire erupted from the afterburner in the rear of the car. The Nightbird lunged hungrily forward into the tunnel. The tunnel door slid closed behind it.

The Nightbird burst through the automatic-doors of the warehouse, and then fishtailed severely onto Dixon Drive, as Nightwing swung the car right. It was only seven minutes after Dick had seen the Suburban take off after Lucy's cab. The sun brightly filled the sky, and puddles from the previous night's rain had begun to retreat in evaporation. Nightwing didn't like going out in the daylight, much like Batman hadn't, but it was imperative that he did right now.

While coming up to the first intersection on Dixon, Nightwing tapped a few commands into the Nightbird's onboard computer. The light at the intersection ahead turned green. Nightwing smiled. He had hacked into the Bludhaven's Department of Transportation's traffic signal a few years back, and left relays and code in the systems that allowed Nightwing to take control of the traffic patterns in the Blud if the occasion arose. It was trick he learned from Bruce and Barbara long ago. He swung the car right on the next intersection, and two cross-streets later, turned left onto Sprang Street, where he had seen the Suburban follow the taxi.

The Nightbird roared ahead weaving in and out of the traffic around. Horns blared from the cars about, their noise compensation for curses that Nightwing couldn't hear through the din. A few cars had been caught unawares in intersections, as their green lights abruptly became red. Nightwing expertly steered around those, loosing very little speed in the process. Nightwing thought he saw a few middle fingers raised in salute to his driving skills. He grinned to himself.

Nightwing called up a map of the immediate area, and gazed quickly at the surrounding streets. "If the cab took off down Sprang," Nightwing thought, "then it could have turned at any of the previous intersections. However," Nightwing thought, scrolling the map ahead, and pointing at an area on it, "the Red Light district is here. It'd be a safe bet Lucy lives somewhere there."

Nightwing drove on, maneuvering quickly around slow and confused drivers. At the next intersection, Nightwing noticed a red Civic wrecked up against a building. He slowed slightly, and noticed a smear of black paint on the side of the car. He turned right at the accident, and sped up down the street.

There were a few more cars off the road up there, and a few apparently rear-ended and immobile in the middle of the road. The Nightbird swerved quickly around the vehicles. I'm on the right track, he thought. None of accidents looked that serious, and after quickly displaying incoming calls to 911, he saw that the accidents were reported and EMTs and police were are their way. Good, Nightwing thought as he roared ahead.

Traffic began to slow in front of him, and it became increasingly difficult to drive around the cars. Often, the Nightbird swerved into oncoming traffic to avoid the gridlock. Nightwing saw the source up ahead; the Suburban was in sight, and just knocked a blue mini-van aside. The yellow taxi was just ahead of it, obviously fleeing the black vehicle. Nightwing increased speed, and swung fully into the opposite lane. The traffic up ahead had slowed, due to the Suburban's driving, and it became easier for the Nightbird to slip through the traffic.

Nightwing trained one of the Nightbird's forward cameras on the Suburban and taxi and zoomed in. He looked just in time to see the Suburban catch up to the cab. The large, black vehicle rammed solidly into the left-rear bumper of the taxi. It pressed hard into the cab, then accelerated, spinning the car violently right. Smoke rose from the burning rubber of the taxi, the driver trying desperately to stop the car. The taxi's left side crashed into a nearby brick-walled building, and slid backwards the length of the building for about fifty feet, the steel sparking and smoking rising as it scraped violently across the brick. The yellow car finally came to rest, as the Suburban slowed to parallel it. Nightwing floored the accelerator.

Nightwing flipped a couple of switches on the Nightbird's dash. A Dodge Viper's hood opens different from most cars, "clam shell" style; the hinges are towards the front of the car, as opposed to near the driver. Nightwing kept this feature in the Nightbird, but reinforced the hood, and added a few motors and pulleys. The hood opened slightly and locked, giving the front end of the Nightbird a wedge shape. The Nightbird swung back into the right traffic lane, and lined up with the Suburban. The doors on the Suburban all opened at once, and four men in black began to get out calmly, as if they had all the time in the world. They didn't. Nightwing braced as the Nightbird roared into the back of the Suburban.

Sparks shot from the undercarriage of the Suburban as the Nightbird forced itself under the larger vehicle, picking it right off the ground. The men that were beginning to exit the vehicle fell out of the car while it was in mid-air, and landed heavily splayed out on the ground, dropping automatic weapons as they did. The Nightbird emerged from the other side, and Nightwing lowered the hood once again. The Suburban hit the ground hard, part of the chassis buckling, the frame bending, glass in the open doors shattering from the impact. One of the rear wheels on the vehicle fell off, damaged by the initial impact of the Nightbird. Nightwing swung the Nightbird to the right, and pulled up on the emergency break, spinning the car a perfect one hundred eighty degrees. He quickly opened the door and ran towards the taxi.

The taxi driver got out and ran across the street, blood rushing from his nose. Lucy had yet to emerge. One of the men that was in the Suburban got to his feet, and swiftly pulled a Glock 9 mm from his coat, firing a few rounds at Nightwing. The shots were poorly aimed, and Nightwing dodged them will little effort, jumping towards the brick-building's nearby wall, flipping in mid-air, briefly planting his feet and pushing off into a spin kick. The heel of Nightwing's left foot came into perfect contact with his attacker's face. The man fell to the ground, as his weapon spun away from him. Nightwing landed in a crouch, and from his vantage, saw four other former occupants of the Suburban come around from the opposite side of the vehicle. Nightwing leapt up to the top of the Suburban, tucking and spinning, head over heels in mid-air, catching two attackers in his peripheral vision. He threw the two Escrimas at them as he landed on the roof of the vehicle. The Escrimas found their targets, hitting one man in middle of the forehead, the other right behind his left ear. Both men fell limply to the ground.

The other two men stopped their advance on the taxi and fired on Nightwing with their MAC-10s. Nightwing flipped off the roof of the Suburban while throwing two Batarangs at the attackers. Both blades hit home, impaling the back of one man's hand, making him drop his gun, and slicing the other's shoulder, making him loose grip on his weapon. Nightwing landed then lunged at the man on his left, as the attacker tried to pull the Batarang from his hand. The attacker gave a brief 'yelp' as Nightwing slammed an open palm into the bridge of his nose. The attack was commonly believed to be lethal, but Nightwing knew it rarely was. However if done right, it could easily knock out an enemy. And it did. The man pitched backwards lifelessly, a trail of blood flowing from his nose following him down.

Nightwing turned towards the final attacker. He was larger than the others, his skin pale white, his head shaven clean. Like the others, he wore a black overcoat covering what looked to be a black Special-Ops uniform; a utility belt and pouches, harness rigging and the like. "Baldy" swung at Nightwing with his right. Nightwing dodged, but the blow glanced his back. He's a pro, Nightwing thought. He could tell from the punch. T-Cool was nothing compared to this man. Baldy did a spinning back-kick, which barely missed Nightwing's head. Nightwing threw a palm at Baldy's head. Baldy dodged easily, but Nightwing spun in the opposite direction, crouching as he went, and swept Baldy's legs from under him. Baldy fell, briefly, but got back to his feet as fast as he had fallen. He swung again with a solid right. This one caught Nightwing in the chest. While his armor cushioned any real damage, the air briefly escaped Nightwing's lungs. He staggered back slightly dazed. Baldy grabbed him by the hair and belt, and threw him into the side of the Suburban. Any glass that hadn't already broke shattered around Nightwing. He fell to the ground with a thud. Nightwing shook the stars from his vision, as Baldy grabbed Nightwing by the hair again, jerking him to his feet.

"Your momma's been feeding you your Wheaties, eh big-boy?" asked Nightwing through gritted teeth. Baldy smiled. Nightwing returned the smile, then swiftly planted his left fist into Baldy's teeth. A few teeth broke and flew out like Tic-Tacs from a damaged package. Baldy staggered slightly, without releasing his grip on Nightwing's hair. Nightwing slammed his left elbow into Baldy's bicep, and his grasp on his hair finally let up. Nightwing wasted no time; he slapped Baldy's left arm aside, and swung his left elbow into Baldy's chin. The big man staggered back farther, and Nightwing delivered a standing side-kick into Baldy's gut. He pitched forward, gasping for air, and Nightwing put him down with a spin-kick to the side of the face. Baldy fell forward, and lay prone. Nightwing ran a hand back through his hair.

"If you wanted hair so bad, you could have just asked," said Nightwing sarcastically.

Nightwing ran around to the taxi. Lucy was just then venturing out. She looked shaken, but uninjured.

"Lucy," called Nightwing, as he reached her. She backed away from him.

"No... no," she said, her voice trembling. "Stay away from me. They know I talked to your friend. They tried to kill me!" She backed away up the street.

"Lucy, who?" asked Nightwing. "Who do these men work for? Please, you have to talk to me, to Grayson!"

"No!" shouted Lucy, as she backed further away. "I don't want to die!"

"Lucy," Nightwing pleaded, "I won't let anything happen, I promise yuh --"

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around Nightwing, pinning his arms to his side.

"Baldy," Nightwing said, as he felt the grip tighten.

The large man giggled. Nightwing frowned at the noise.

"Mr. Clean," stated Nightwing, grimacing, "I really don't have time for this."

Nightwing pushed off with his feet, propelling he and the large man into the front of the Suburban. Baldy's grip didn't relent, so Nightwing brought his right foot heavily onto that of the other man's. Nightwing felt as the bones cracked and broke in his attacker's foot. Baldy let out a 'wheeze.' Nightwing swung his head violently backwards into Baldy's nose. He felt that break as well, and the warm feeling of Baldy's blood running down the back of his head. Baldy finally released his grip on Nightwing. Nightwing spun and landed a solid left to Baldy's left ear, following with a right to the larger man's chin. Nightwing finished with a solid kick to Baldy's groin. A look of surprise erupted on Baldy's face, as he fell to his knees, his hands reaching for his crotch.

"Sorry to go nuts on you," Nightwing grinned. He slammed an open palm into Baldy's nose. The bald man's head snapped back and smacked into the Suburban, denting the grillwork. Baldy fell forward again.

Nightwing turned back to Lucy, but she was long gone. Nightwing heard sirens nearby. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Dammit," he swore to no one in particular.