All of the characters and story lines and everything else I can think of are the property of DC comics and the WB network. The only bits that're mine are the words and the voice.
Chapter 7: The Rescue
She could see only eyes—hard, desperate eyes. The rest of the face was obscured by a ski mask. With all the courage she could muster up, she thrust her son behind her to protect him from the blunt muzzle pointed in their direction and addressed the man: "Wh—what do you want?
He snorted derisively, "What the hell do you think I want, Lady? Take off those earrings and that necklace. Put them in the purse. Then, hand over the purse nice and easy. Nobody makes any stupid moves, nobody gets hurt." He grinned, then, lips moving under the mask, "See? I'm really a nice guy."
She bit back a reply. Fear made her sarcastic, and sarcasm was not the better part of wisdom just now. Trying to control the shaking of her hands, she moved to comply. One of the earrings dropped to the ground.
"Stupid Bitch!" He struck her face hard with his free hand, momentarily stunning her. "Pick it up!"
Shaking, she complied, murmuring to her whimpering son, "It's all right, Honey. Mama's all right. It'll be over soon."
It happened so fast, she never even saw it coming. Neither did he. One minute, he was standing over her with the gun—the next, he was flat on his back, gun skittering across the broken pavement, with a medium-tall man in black and blue leather kneeling on his chest. The man had him by the throat.
"Who the hell are you," managed the gunman.
"Who, me? Let's see…how about…your worst nightmare," the black and blue fellow snarled. The gunman reached for an empty vodka bottle lying nearby and clocked him with it, then pitched his body sideways, slamming the man against a wall and breaking his hold. Both men leaped to their feet, circling each other. The boy whimpered, frightened, and his mother wrapped her arms around him, huddling against a dumpster for cover. Black and Blue glanced at them, eyes kind behind his mask. "Don't be afraid, kid—I'm here to protect you."
The gunman charged him. The boy cried out. The man in black made a graceful leap, somersaulting over the robber and landing behind him, twisting his arm up behind his back and slamming him against the rough, brick wall of a building. He then used what appeared to be a judo move to slam the guy facedown on the ground. Whipping out a thin line, the man in black hogtied him. He stood over his captive for a long moment, fiddling with what appeared to be his watch.
The boy's eyes were huge. Turning, the man approached the pair slowly, palms open, speaking quietly. "It's all right. I won't hurt you. You're safe, now. Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"
The woman relaxed. It was all right—she could see it in this guy's eyes. He was sincere. She slowly got to her feet, one arm around her small son. "No, he didn't hurt us. We're okay."
"You sure?" The man indicated her eye, which was already swelling.
"Yeah. Oh, yeah…you shoulda seen the other guy."
The man twinkled at her appreciatively. "I must say, you're pretty tough."
"Hey, I have seven kids—all boys. This was nothing."
He laughed. "My hat's off to you, then." He looked, then at the boy. "It was pretty scary, wasn't it," he asked, gently. The boy's eyes filled with tears and he hung his head. The man knelt, "What's your name?" .
"Teddy."
"Nice to meet you, Teddy. I'm Nightwing." The man's easygoing, lopsided grin was contagious, and after a moment, the boy grinned unsteadily back, hesitantly shaking the offered hand. Nightwing looked him in the eye. "You did exactly the right thing back there, Teddy. You should always stay quiet and not make any sudden moves when somebody's got a gun on you. You did exactly right. You probably saved your mother's life, and your own, too." He straightened. "You should be proud of yourself."
The woman looked at Nightwing gratefully. "Thanks," she said, softly. "I mean, thanks for saving us, but also…" She indicated Teddy with her head.
Nightwing shrugged, "Kids tend to feel responsible," he said, offhandedly. "You might want to think about some counseling if he has any trouble getting past it." His compassionate, grey eyes met hers, "Or you." He glanced down at his wrist, appearing to check his watch. "I've contacted the police. They're on their way. You'll need to make a statement."
She nodded. Nightwing bounded gracefully to the top of the dumpster, then leaped to catch the lowest rung of a fire-escape ladder several yards up the side of one of the buildings. He swung back and forth several times, gaining momentum, then launched himself almost directly upward, turning a backflip in mid air, landing solidly on the fire escape and climbing to the top. He leaned over the side and grinned. "See ya." She watched him flip through the air and disappear over the edge of the roof as the squad cars pulled into the alley.
On an adjoining rooftop, Helena considered what she had witnessed. It was not the first time she had watched this Nightwing guy save someone's ass. He intrigued her. She wondered why he patrolled the city each weekend, helping unfortunate victims of violence and crime. What was in it for him? Money? Power? Sex? He had to have some ulterior motive. People always did.
She'd taken to surreptitiously shadowing him on the nights he was around, trying to find the pattern which would give her the clue to his motivation. She never found it. Occasionally, he would check up on someone he had helped, as if to assure himself that they were all right, but he never resumed contact with them, so she could rule out money and sex as possible motivations. She could eliminate power, too. She'd watched him fight enough that she could tell he wasn't getting his thrills from kicking people around. On the contrary, he was almost gentle with his opponents, certainly winning his fights, but never using unnecessary force or resorting to brutality—and she'd never seen him give in to the temptation to kill anyone—even when the creeps deserved it. He merely defeated them and handed them over to the cops, not even sticking around to take any credit. It didn't make sense.
She was fascinated. This guy would certainly bear watching.