COURT MARTIAL: PART 2:

"To turn myself in."

Stunned Superman paused, not believing what he heard. "Dick ... you can't."

"I have to," Dick replied. He turned hurt eyes to face the man who was like an uncle to him, the man he respected and looked up to more than anyone in the world, except Bruce. "He's dead because of me. I walked away. Walked away and let her shoot him. Wanted her to shoot him. I'm responsible. I ... I have to turn myself in."

"Her? Who's 'her'? Who shot him Dick?"

"That doesn't matter. It wasn't her fault. Not really. It ... it's mine."

Clark's mind was reeling. Dick hadn't shot Blockbuster, but ... he had walked away and let it happen. Bruce ... would he ever understand? Would he? Could Dick? "You can't do that. If you turn yourself in for this ... you're not just turning yourself in. Bruce would be exposed. Then the others."

A soft groan escaped Dick's lips as he dropped his head back on his knees. "I can't ... I'm sorry but ... I screwed everything up. I'm a murderer ... you ... you have to turn me in. He would. You know he would, but I can't do that to him."

"You called me to arrest you? Dick ... I can't ..."

"You have to. You know you do. I called you because I trust you to do the right thing and ... to save ... Bruce ... from having to."

Superman again walked to the entryway and looked down at Desmond's lifeless body. His heart ached. This was an impossible situation. For the first time in his life, Clark Kent didn't know what to do. Whatever he did, people he cared for ... people he loved ... were going to be hurt. Whether Dick was technically guilty of murder or not wasn't for him to decide. Not alone. However, turning Dick in to the Bludhaven authorities would be wrong. They were cleaner than they had been in years, if ever, thanks to Dick. But there were still bad apples on the force, bad cops and officials who had worked for Desmond. Placing Nightwing in jail would be signing his death warrant ... every villain he's ever fought would be after him, and Clark wasn't sure in his current state of mind if Dick would even try to protect himself. Batman would be exposed, and the government would close down the entire contingent of Gotham's guardians.

'J'onn,' Superman thought, activating his mental link to the JLA's resident telepath.

'What can I do for you Superman?' came the deep, comforting voice of the Martian Manhunter.

'The League's charter allows us to hold people accused of crimes in certain circumstances doesn't it?'

'Yes, Superman. When conventional holding facilities would be inadequate.'

Superman turned and watched Nightwing. He was worried about the despondent the young man. 'Thanks J'onn. I'll see you soon.'

'I sense you are greatly troubled. Can I help?' J'onn asked.

'I'm sure you will ... I'll tell you more when I see you." He felt the connection close. Superman knew the Martian Manhunter could easily take the details from his mind and know the situation, but J'onn respected his privacy and wouldn't intrude in his mind unless, and until, invited. Superman exhaled before he walked over to Nightwing. Bending down, he placed one hand on Nightwing's shoulder. "Are you ready to go?"

Red rimmed eyed looked up at him. Dick sniffled and stood. "Yeah ... yeah. ... Clark ... promise me ... make Bruce understand that I'm sorry. I never meant ... it just ... happened."

Placing his arm around Nightwing, Superman rose from the rooftop into the air. "I'm taking you to Metropolis." He saw the confusion on the young face. "Trust me, as much as I want to hide you, I won't. I'm going to do what you want ... the right thing. But I'm doing it my own way. So trust me."

"I always have."


The teleporter hummed to life in the Watchtower's teleporter bay. Superman and Nightwing walked down the quarantine step pads and headed into the reception area. A blur of red rematerialized in front of them as Wally West, better known within the Watchtower walls as the Flash, came to a stop before them, a wide smile on his face. "Dude," Wally started, "what'cha doing up on the moon with the big guy?"

Nightwing looked down at the blue green carpet. He felt his chest heave up and down. Of all the members of the Justice League, it would have to be Flash on monitor duty. Wally ... one of his best friends. Dick felt his jaw flex. He couldn't bring himself to speak or to look his friend in the eye.

Flash had finally started to take in the vision of Nightwing before him. Bloody and tattered uniform. "Nightwing ... are you okay? What's happened?" He looked up at Superman when no response came from Nightwing. "What's happened?"

Clearing his throat, Superman looked Flash squarely in the eyes. "Please escort Nightwing to the secure area, and ... place him in one of the cells."

Wally's eyes almost bulged from his head. "WHAT? Are you out of your mind? I'm not going to do that! Why would I do that? You know who he is and --"

"Flash," Nightwing's voice said with authority. "Let's go." Nightwing started for the turbo lift, then turned to see Flash and Superman both frozen behind him. "Come on Wally, you've got a job to do."

Superman put his hand on Flash's shoulder. "I want that uniform and a record of his injuries preserved. Video and photographs."

Nightwing sighed. "That's a waste of time -- "

"Let me be the judge of that," Superman said. Giving Flash a reassuring squeeze, he walked off towards the living quarters. "I'll be speaking with J'onn, Wally, when you're done. We've got to move quickly."

Nightwing rolled his eyes and moved to the turbo lift pressing the down button. He nervously drummed his fingers against the wall as he waited for the lift doors to open. Silently he watched the digital numbers tell the levels the lift passed on its way to the main level. He didn't look at his friend, he wasn't sure if he could. Thankfully, for once, Flash stood beside him without rattling off a million questions a minute. When the doors blissfully opened, Nightwing moved in to the back wall. He rested his head against the cold metal as Flash punched the button for lower level twelve.

"Dick?"

"Murder."

"Huh?"

"I'm under arrest for murder."

Flash closed his eyes. He rode the lift with his friend in uncomfortable silence. When the doors opened, they walked side by side to the holding cells. "I ... come here and let's get the photos and video going," Flash said as he led Nightwing into the larger control area.

Nightwing shook his head. "It's a waste of time. I don't know why he wants that."

"Maybe to help you. You may need help, you know. This time."

"Wal, you don't know what happened. What I --"

"DON'T! Don't tell me Dick. I don't want you to tell me anything." Flash stomped around and set up the video and photographic cameras. "I don't want to ever be able to be used against you, so just ... don't tell me about it. Step over here and let's get started." Sighing, Nightwing moved onto the mark and let Flash collect his evidence. "Ok, stay here and ... um ... take the suit off. I'm ... um ... going to find you something else to wear. Back in a ... " he stopped before he said it. Somehow, he couldn't quite make a joke, the words just wouldn't come. Silently, he left the room in a red blur.

"Flash," Dick finished for his friend as he dropped his mask to the floor. He looked at his gloves and the blood on his hands. Even when he pulled the gloves off and dropped them, he still saw the blood on his hands. It would never go away. He pulled his top off and fingered his bruising ribs when Flash returned. "Find something?"

"Scrubs from the med bay," Wally said dropping them on the counter. He bagged and tagged Nightwing's uniform as his friend changed.

"Ready."

"Huh?" Wally said looking up from his work.

Dick thumbed toward the holding cells. "I'm ready."

Sadly, Wally looked at his best friend. He felt like his heart was going to break. "Good thing one of us is." He followed Dick over and entered his passcode to access the system. He watched the promethium reinforced titanium vanadium door slid open and Dick entered. Wally just stood there ... he wasn't sure how long ... seconds or minutes ... to the fastest man alive it seemed like an eternity. Finally, he willed his hand to enter the code to close and lock the cell door.

Dick watched the door close and heard the locking mechanisms catch. The door was virtually impenetrable. Solid except for a small liquid-crystal portal which operated as a window allowing the inmate to look out, and League members to keep a check on their prisoners. Dick knew the secure holding cells had rarely been used. They hadn't had much opportunity to need them ... until now ... to hold one of their own.

Sighing, he sat on the bunk, his elbows resting on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands. In the solitary darkness, Dick cried. Pain stabbed at his chest, his heart pounding, beating as if trying to tear itself from his chest. He had failed ... failed Bruce, failed his friends, and worse, he had failed himself. In a moment of weakness he had stepped aside and Tarantula's bullet had shattered his very core as surely as it had shattered Roland Desmond's skull.


The heavy black cape fluttered in the wind as Batman descended onto the roof of the Haven Hotel. He had heard the police band reports of a double homicide and further ... that the Justice League was investigating. Other than that, the police band was silent as to details. That the League was investigating came as a complete surprise to Batman, since no one had contacted him and he had League jurisdiction over the Gotham district. He looked around the roof before proceeding inside the building from the rooftop access. His eyes narrowed as he saw his old friend and colleague Ralph Dibney, also known as the Elongated Man, searching for clues. It was also apparent from the way the handful of Bludhaven Police Officers, as well as the morgue attendants from the coroner's office deferred to him that Elongated Man was the detective in charge of the investigation.

Batman clung to the safety of the shadows while he watched the activities. He hadn't seen any of the bodies yet, but his curiosity was piqued when he saw S.T.A.R. lab employees talking with the coroner's staff. "Ralph."

Elongated Man's head looked up at the faint sound. He smiled when his eyes caught a glimpse of the bat in the darkness. With his body remaining where he stood, Ralph stretched his neck up until he was face to face with Batman. "Hey, Bat Buddy! I was wondering where you were."

"What's going on?"

Planting his hands on the railing and pulling the rest of his elasticized body up to the top level to stand beside his former teammate, Ralph pointed below them. "Meta baddie was murdered. The big gaping hole in the back of his head gave it away."

"Who?"

Flipping through his detective's notebook Ralph found the name of his victim. "Roland Desmond."

"Blockbuster," Batman growled.

"Somehow I knew you'd know that."

"What happened?"

Ralph pointed over the stair ledge, "C'mere and I'll show you." Together the former teammates walked past the Bludhaven police officers, ignoring their gaping mouths and whispers at the sight of Gotham's legendary Dark Knight. Stopping on the fifth floor landing, Elongated Man motioned for the lab attendants to lift the crisp white sheet from the massive body that had been Blockbuster. "From what I've been able to piece together, there were two perps. Look at the first set of footprints," Ralph pointed to a set of bloody footprints that came up onto the landing from the third floor flight of stairs. "Female I'd say, by the impression. See how narrow the foot is? She's our shooter. Whoever she is."

Batman nodded, and then looked at his friend. "Why are you here, Ralph?"

Elongated Man turned from the crime scene to face his old friend. "I don't have the foggiest clue. Superman called and said the JLA had an investigation and needed a detective and that you were unavailable. I wondered why you were unavailable when Bludhaven's so close to Gotham, but I know how your whack-jobs keep you busy."

Batman seemed lost in thought as he processed Ralph's words. "Bludhaven is Nightwing's city."

Ralph grinned from ear to ear, "Your boy's got his own city now! That's great! I know you've got to be proud of him."

Batman's lips jutted out and almost formed a half-smile. Quickly composing himself, he simply replied, "I am."

Ralph scratched his head. "Wonder why they didn't call him? Seems like he should be doing this. He's a JLA reservist like I am. I do still read the newsletters." Ralph gave an exaggerated shrug and then he waggled his nose and smiled. "I don't need my nose to wag to know the only mystery isn't in that stairwell."

Batman had a gnawing feeling growing in his gut. "You said there were two perps?"

"All business makes Bats a dull boy, you know. I should've brought Sue along, she tends to loosen you up." He pointed back towards the stairs. "See that other set of footprints? Those are definitely a man's. What I'm thinking based on foot placement is that our perp number two started to walk away up the stairs, then turned and watched his lady friend blow a hole in ol' Rolly's head. Nice guy, huh? Then it seems they came up this way," he pointed to the bloody handprints on the stair railings. "And went out on the roof for a little bloody whoopie."

"No," Batman said lowly. "Why is the JLA involved?"

"That's the other million dollar question. I have no clue about that either. All I know is that it's our investigation, and we're in charge. Big Blue said it was our jurisdiction. I didn't even know we had a jurisdiction, but it's been a long time since I've attended one of those business meetings."

"Where is he?" Batman hissed.

"Who? Superman? Watchtower last I heard."

Pulling his cape tightly around him, Batman ascended the stairs to the roof without a word. His eyes searched the rooftop. He moved towards the center and knelt down. The rain had washed away most of the traces of where they had been, but his well-trained eye caught the faint glimpse of metal ... a comm link. He picked it up and his fingers closed around it as his fist moved up to strike his chest. Standing, he moved to the roof's edge and shot his line into the night. He descended to the Batmobile and roared off towards Gotham.

"Oracle," he barked.

"You rang boss-man?" Barbara Gordon replied as her face appeared on his view screen.

"Where's Nightwing?" he asked impatiently, his fingers gripping the steering wheel.

Barbara sighed and looked down. "I don't know. We ... we kind of broke up and --"

"I'm not in the mood to hear about one of your tiffs. You two look for reasons to argue for the sake of arguing. I want to know his GPS ... now!"

"He turned off his GPS, and he won't answer my comms. I have no way to find him, because he doesn't want me to. He'll call if he really needs anything, but --"

Batman cut her off again. "Damn!"

"Bruce, what's wrong? Has something happened to Dick?"

"What have you heard from the JLA?"

"Nothing," she said as she turned to her left and checked her communications. "Looks like it's been a quiet night."

"No. Not quite. Just incommunicado ... to us. Batman out."


Batman stormed off the teleporter and headed into the Hall of Justice. He moved past Wonder Woman and Aquaman as he beelined for the front of the room. "CLARK!" he yelled as he approached Superman. As Superman turned, Batman punched him in the face as hard as he could. On his gloved hand, he wore the Claw of Horus. The force of the blow sent Superman reeling to the floor. "WHERE THE HELL IS MY SON?"

TO BE CONTINUED ...

THE CLAW OF HORUS WAS USED IN SUPERMAN/BATMAN 4 BY HAWKMAN TO K.O. SUPES. BATS NEEDED AN EQUALIZER BUT USING THE K-RING WOULD'VE BEEN A BETRAYAL OF TRUST SO I HAD OLD SNEAKY GO FIND SOMETHING ELSE. SPECIAL THANKS TO PATTY FOR SUGGESTING THIS. CHAR