Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

Nightwing looked up at the skyscrapers, silhouetted against the night sky and at the rooftops he used to jump from. In the last year or so, he found himself wheezing just a little harder and he avoided the heights now when he really didn't have to be up there. It gave him an excuse to drive the Batmobile as well and tonight he needed the horsepower of the turbine motors to get him into downtown as soon as possible.

The conversation with Cissie had gone better than he had thought it would. He wished she wasn't pregnant, wished that there was some way to go back in time and just stop the whole affair. What was done was done. At least that was what Bruce had said seven years before.

He decided now was definitely not the time to dwell on the mistakes of the past and he ordered the dark spirits that whispered into his ear to shut up and tighten their seat belts. He gunned the engine and inhaled deeply the smell of petroleum fumes. The Batmobile was one of only a handful of vehicles permitted to burn fossil fuels on the road today and that was only because Bruce Wayne had bribed so many politicians before he had gone to jail. The Wayne money now permeated the state legislature and it was the number one reason why he had been able to plead to second-degree manslaughter.

"Only eight more years and he's a free man," Nightwing whispered to himself. Eight more years of running around in the costume, continuing the mission his foster-father had started nearly three decades before.

Bruce Wayne had witnessed his parent's murder, watched as they were shot in the dark by a common street thug. In their blood, which pooled at his feet, he changed, became baptized in pain. For the next thirteen years he trained himself to physical and intellectual perfection. Many who knew him stated that he should have concentrated on the emotional as well. Bruce Wayne had turned into a man incapable of feeling anything but a need for revenge until he felt fear.

A large bat had crashed through the bay window of the library in Wayne Manor and had frightened him. In that moment, Bruce had realized that the bat could strike terror not only in him, but also in criminals, whom he considered nothing but cowards. He fashioned a costume and slipped himself into the role of the Batman, a role that consumed his life.

Not very long after becoming the Batman, Bruce Wayne experienced a second emotion, pity. While attending a Haley Circus show in Gotham City, Bruce had, along with the entire crowd, gazed in horror as the rigging snapped and John and Mary Grayson fell to their deaths. Bruce leapt over the barricade meant to hold the population back and pushed through the circus workers. He didn't head for the bodies, but instead rushed to scoop up young Richard Grayson, the ten-year-old boy who had watched in stunned silence as his parents were murdered. Later it would be determined that gangsters had damaged the rigging so that it would break and Bruce had watched as the little boy became consumed with the hate and hurt that had defined his own life.

To his credit, Bruce tried to be a good father. His problem was that he simply did not know how. He could not express his true emotions because he had never been taught how. He had tried to be a man after his parents had died and he had succeeded to well. As time went on, Bruce and Richard could not relate and the tension between them was more than that normally seen between father and son. Through it all, however, there still remained a feeling of love.

Nightwing had always loved his foster-father, even when he didn't think he loved him back. He gripped the throttle control a little harder as he realized that he now knew exactly how much Bruce had cared for him. When he looked back at his life overall, when he came to understand that Bruce had let him become Robin, to be the first person to truly be let into his heart it made the guilt he that he lived with so much more painful.

He turned a corner and came to a stop. His eyes were watering again and he felt the gnawing in his gut that only alcohol would sate. There would be time to drink later; he needed to deal with his wayward teammate at the moment. She had willfully disobeyed his direct order that Mr. Freeze was not to be touched. It was time she came to Jesus he told himself.

Copy Cat gripped the tube that went from the backpack to the facemask of Mr. Freeze and pulled him closer. Her martial arts program, based upon the skills of the second Green Arrow and the third Batgirl, had allowed her to plow through the thugs and heavyweights. Only Freeze had remained and now he was unable to defend himself against his foe. "Leave me alone!" he said, his breathing getting harder and harder. There was real fear in his eyes as she started to squeeze.

"I'm Justice League, I don't have to leave you alone," she said with a wicked grin. She slowly reached her free hand down to her secondary input and pressed the third button. A small injector located at the base of her spine injected her with a small amount of synthetic Venom, a drug that increased strength.

Originally used by the villain Bane, it was now available for the right price in a reduced concentration. Copy Cat liked to use it whenever she ran an interrogation program. Perps respected strength and not strength of character. "Now, I'm going to ask you again, scumbag, why did you kill the Titans?"

"I've never killed anyone!" Mr. Freeze gasped. "I only steal in order to buy the drugs and equipment I need to stay alive!"

Copy Cat head butted him, cracking his goggles. A small mist of frozen air started to escape. "You and I obviously have a communication problem," Copy Cat said, smiling. She shoved Mr. Freeze back and he stumbled into a wall. "When I tell you to give me an answer, then your job is to give it to me. I'm a lady that likes it fast and with no complaints, get it?"

"You're insane!" Freeze sputtered as he tried to get back up. His hose had come loose from his backpack and he kept twisting to try and reseal it. Copy Cat walked up and kicked him hard in the ribs and he fell back into the wall. "Leave me alone!" he begged again.

"You bastard! You get off on killing children?" she asked, kicking him in the knee he had left exposed. He howled in pain and grabbed it. There were tears in his eyes now and his mask was fogging up.

She took another step forward, intent on beating him some more when something whirled by her head and stuck into the wall. She quickly looked to see one of the shuriken that Nightwing was known to employ. "You don't belong here," Nightwing said.

"Go home, old man," she said without turning back around. Instead she reached out for Freeze and he tried to back away. "Come here," she said.

Nightwing landed behind her with a hard thud. "I told you not to come here. Leave him alone. He's a thief, not a murderer." Nightwing looked around the warehouse at all of the boxes and crates of stolen material. It was quite a cache of ill-gotten goodies and he silently berated himself for not being more attentive about the "petty" crimes going on in Gotham City. He had been spending way too much time worrying about League business. "He's under arrest for theft and dealing stolen goods, but he isn't a murderer."

She whirled around to face him, her breathing fierce. He recognized the signs; she was injecting herself with more Venom. There was even a chance she was addicted to it, but he somehow doubted it. If she were, it would have been a piece of cake to kick her off of the League. "Like you would be able to recognize a murderer when you saw one!"

"If your problem is with me, then deal with me. Regardless, you disobeyed a direct order not to pursue Mr. Freeze," Nightwing said, casting a glance at the villain. He was busy repairing his equipment and was otherwise too preoccupied to get away.

"You aren't fit to give me orders!" she cried. She took a long step towards him and pointed her finger in his direction. "You aren't a real hero."

"And why is that? Why is it that you hate me so much?"

"Because a hero is supposed to go after the bad guys, but you refused to go after the Batman when he killed the Joker. It should have been you, but it was Superman instead." She started to laugh. "And now the League coddles you like you're a baby with a boo-boo!"

"The situation was a lot more complicated than that…"

"Shut up! How in the hell does someone who plays favorites with murderers get elected as the chairman of the Justice League of America?" Nightwing could hear the Venom pump starting up again and he watched as her biceps started to expand. She was also growing taller.

And a part of him could understand her rage. From his late teens, Nightwing had struggled to establish his identity as being separate from that of the Batman. In order to do that, he had to move away from the darkness that had seemed to personify his former mentor. Nightwing was supposed to be above reproach. He had been leader of the Titans, had been recommended to the League by Superman himself.

Yet he had not pursued the Batman when the Joker had been murdered. He couldn't, but she would never understand why.

His thoughts had put him off-guard and she growled. Before he could return his mind's eye to the situation at hand, she had already started the haymaker that sent him sprawling. He landed hard on his back and grabbed his jaw. There were some loose teeth, but nothing seemed broken. "You're asking for a world of trouble, Wendy."

"It's time you and I settled this," she said, cracking her neck.

He nodded as he started to get up. "Yes it is, but we're going to do it the right way."

"Let's go!"

"Fine. You're suspended from the League," he said as he brushed his uniform off. "You can't hit the team leader and get away with it." She replied by leaping at him and deep inside he knew that he had been egging her on. Only a fool baits someone over pumped on Venom.

It was suicide he thought as they went down in a tumble. She punched him hard in the ribs and he gave back as much as he could. They wrestled for a few moments and he managed to get a leg up and pushed her away from him. She recovered quickly and came screaming back at him, her martial arts programming buried beneath pure rage.

Since they had first started working together on the team, Nightwing had guessed that Copy Cat had not liked him very much. He always assumed it had to do with something in his past, but he had never imagined that because he had not been the one to capture Batman that it would generate harsh feelings. But then again, if he was supposed to be a hero, wasn't he supposed to pursue all criminals?

If she could only understand just how complex the entire situation was now and then. If she only understood how much he wished she would just punch through his skull and end it all now. By reflex, he blocked a punch and then delivered a palm strike to her breastbone. It was like striking concrete.

She brought up a ham fist, like a hammer ready to strike a nail, and brought it down in a titanic swing that seemed to draw the air out of the room. It smashed into his shoulder and he felt it dislocate. He went down on one knee and used his unhurt arm to grab one of his battle staves. As Copy Cat brought her hand up again, he cracked her knees with the weapon.

Unfortunately, her joints had been replaced with metal, he remembered as she hit him again and he flattened onto the ground. His stave went flying and ended up under a car. "Get up!" she bellowed.

He didn't want to; instead he concentrated on the cold concrete floor. He could taste the oil and sawdust in the air and he wondered if it was the last thing he would ever taste. Had he ever considered what the last thing he would taste would be?

No other blow came and instead Copy Cat started to stumble back. "Damn it!" she cried out. Nightwing dared to look up and saw she was pulling a shaft out of her arm. There were a couple of sparks, indicating that the cybernetic wiring just under her skin had been punctured. It had to be either a crossbow quarrel or an arrow shot at close range to get through her Kevlar-impregnated skin.

He picked up a twanging sound and he knew immediately what was going on. Copy Cat cried out again, only her voice was more feminine this time. Nightwing rolled over onto his back, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. Up above him stood a woman in black and purple leathers. She had the figure of a teenager and the eyes of someone a million years old. The woman was busy reloading her crossbow from a pouch on her utility belt, an idea she had borrowed from the Batman. "Hi, Helena," Nightwing mumbled.

The Huntress did not answer immediately, but instead fired the Venom-antidote quarrel into Copy Cat, who was becoming more and more passive with each second. By the time Copy Cat had sagged into a corner, completely drained from her Venom high, the Huntress had loosed five shots all together.

She clambered down from her perch and Nightwing, despite the pain, took the time to watch her graceful figure. She was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, on the outside and the inside. Over the years, especially since the Batman's arrest, the Huntress had become a calming influence in Gotham City. She had become a true champion of the weak and the helpless.

In their younger days, Nightwing and the Huntress used to play "hide the weasel" under the covers, more times than either one would admit to. She had been a real hothead at that time. Now she was no longer that same woman, but was instead a true guardian angel. "I should have married you when I had the chance," he coughed as she leaned over him.

Her smile brightened. "I did ask," she said as she checked his shoulder. He started to give one of his trademark smart responses when she popped his shoulder back into place. "I do so love hurting you," she said as she helped him up.

"I suppose I should say thank you," he managed to croak out. The pain in his shoulder would be with him for several days. He glanced over at the sleeping Copy Cat. "I can't imagine what came over her."

"You were goading her," the Huntress told him as she led him to a crate. "I heard it in your voice. What the hell is going on with you, Dick?"

He grimaced as she let go of him and he drooped his head. "It's League business."

"Then things have really changed since I was a member," she told him as she moved over to check on Copy Cat. After a few moments she nodded her head and pulled something off the woman's costume. "Her Venom pump got stuck."

"Doesn't matter," Nightwing said. "She's off of the team."

"That from the guy who wanted to give everyone a second chance," she replied as she walked back over and handed him the pump. "How's Bruce?"

"Haven't seen him," Nightwing told her. She asked if he was going to tell the former Batman about the death of the new Robin. "I'm sure he knows already. Even prison won't keep him from having his fingers in every pie he can find on the windowsill."

The Huntress nodded and he took a hard look at her. She was in fantastic shape, her hair still as dark as the night, her eyes as seductive as a melancholy melody. He knew what it was, her attitude. When she had first hit the seen, her face was always in a scowl, now she had to fight to keep from smiling. Married life did that to you and there was a dark laugh in the back of his mind. Nightwing had never married, never had the chance because Barbara had been killed.

She saw the look on his face. "What is it?"

He chuckled, something he wasn't prone to do very often. "I was thinking about how married life suits you." Two years before, three years after she had proposed to him, she had married a simple man, an accountant who had been a widower. That dose of normalcy had saved her, changed her and revitalized her.

"Like I said, you had your chance," she told him. There was not bitterness in her voice, but there was that slight hint of regret. He knew that when he had told her no, that he would not commit himself to her, that it had not been personal. She had reminded him too much of what he had already lost.

If Dick Grayson were ever going to marry, he would now have to seek companionship outside the community of super-heroes. Yet, he was now fathering a child with a married member of the League. "I'm such a bastard," he mumbled.

"Don't look to me to disagree," the Huntress told him. They both laughed and each remembered the many fond moments that they had shared so many years before. "Dick, something is eating at you."

"I'm fine," he lied. "I'm just tired. This stuff with the Titans is getting to me."

She nodded. "You know, you can upgrade my reservist status; I'm willing to help," she offered.

"I just might take you up on that," he told her as he stood up. His shoulder ached, but there was nothing he could do about it until after he finished his business with Copy Cat. He pulled out his communicator and Wonder Woman answered. He quickly explained the situation and requested a pick-up. The Amazon told him that the robotic recovery vehicle was on its way. "And Diana," he added before signing off, "Gather the team together for a meeting."