Thanks to Patty and Tammy for the wonderful beta job :-) I hope everyone enjoys this part. Char :-)
COURT MARTIAL: Part 19
Batman watched as Nightwing pulled his gloves on. It was amazing how the cuffs of the Olympian shackles miraculously moved from being under the gloves to resting on top of them as Nightwing moved to the next part of his uniform. "Are you ready to do this?" Batman asked.
Nightwing looked at him as he picked up his mask. "No, but what other choice do I have?" He turned back and gazed into the small mirror hanging over his metal sink. Quickly, he applied the mask finishing his transformation. "I'm glad I don't have to wear the scrubs."
"It's a court martial ... this is your ... dress uniform."
"Never knew I was in the military," Nightwing replied with a smirk as he turned around. He released an audible sigh and moved over to Batman. "I'm not ready to do this. I don't want to do this."
"I know," Batman replied.
The cell door opened and Plastic Man stepped in. "It's time."
Batman nodded. He looked at Nightwing's face and said without turning, "Give us a minute, Eel."
"Bats this thing has a time," Batman turned his head and glanced over his shoulder interrupting Eel as if he shouted. Plastic Man sighed and continued, " ... a minute ... you're gonna get me in trouble," Plastic Man mumbled as he stepped out and closed the door.
"Dick, you're going to be okay. I promise."
"Don't. Don't promise something you can't deliver."
"I never have. You can do this," Batman said moving over and clasping his hand on Nightwing's shoulder.
Nightwing sighed and nodded slightly. He rubbed his hand across the smooth metal of the shackle. "I hate that people are going to see me ... "
"They won't. I've ordered the corridors cleared."
"But when I go into the Hall of Justice. Everyone will be there ... they'll ... think "
"Don't worry about this. It doesn't matter what they think."
Plastic Man opened the door. "It's been a minute." Batman turned to face him. "Don't glare at me. I didn't set the times I just have to take him there. It's always the frigging messenger who gets killed."
Nightwing shook his head and followed Plastic Man into the commons area of the secure wing. Chains appeared manacling him as he left his cell. Batman's hand found Nightwing's shoulder once again and gave a reassuring squeeze. Together, they walked in silence from the secure area to the turbo lift rising from level twelve to seventeen. The only sound as they walked across the concourse toward the Hall of Justice was their echoing footsteps and the faint clink of the chains.
Nearing the door, Batman pulled ahead of Nightwing, Plastic Man and Booster Gold. He turned slightly to look at Nightwing before he moved directly in front of the younger man. Batman pulled himself up to his full height, his shoulders wide and his cape draping loosely around his form. As the Hall of Justice doors slid open, Batman placed himself strategically between the courtroom and Nightwing, blocking the view of the occupants of the room. He held his position until he felt Nightwing's presence close behind him and heard the faint sound of the retracting chains. Only then, did Batman fall back in step beside Nightwing.
Nightwing looked around the large room. The round table that normally sat in the center of the room was gone. Replaced by a courtroom setting. A long table was placed near the far end of the room with five large chairs for the tribunal. A witness stand stood to the left of the Tribunal table. The two counsel tables faced the judges' bench. The courtroom area had been roped off to form the bar, separating the gallery section from the trial participants.
As he crossed the makeshift threshold and was behind the bar, he glanced in the direction of the prosecution table. Green Lantern and Blue Beetle both eyed him as he moved to the defense table. Jean Lorring was sitting to the side of their table busily going through papers. Dick turned toward his table. Barbara was a mirror of Jean, working over her papers. She hadn't even glanced in his direction. Flash had stood as Dick approached and clasped him on the shoulder as he stood behind his chair. "I'm in the middle?"
"Yes," Barbara said without looking up.
"Good morning to you too," Dick replied and sat beside her drumming his fingers on the table.
She turned her emerald eyes on him, glancing over the rims of her glasses. "Good morning." Her hand brushed over his, her voice almost breathlessly asked him, "Are you ready?"
"No," he replied shaking his head.
"It'll be " Barbara stopped and looked up. "Yes, Ted?"
Blue Beetle looked uncomfortable. "We just wanted you to know ... it's not too late. The plea is still open." Squaring his shoulders, he looked directly at Nightwing. "Just say the word, say you'll take the deal and this will all be over."
"Over but for the prison time. No thanks," Nightwing replied.
Beetle shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. Okay. We tried." He started walking back to the prosecution table and turned back. "Barbara, if he changes his mind ... any time ... up until the Tribunal has a verdict. The offer's still on the table."
Flash shook his head. "The nerve of the guy."
Barbara nodded before turning to Dick. She held his hand in hers. "It'll be okay."
Before he could reply, the door at the back wall opened and the five members of the Justice League who comprised the Tribunal filed into the room and headed for their seats. The room stood at their entry until they took their seats. Wonder Woman motioned for the room to be seated. "Is the prosecution ready to begin?" She asked. At Green Lantern's nod, she turned her attention, "Is the defense ready to proceed?"
"Yes, your Honors," Barbara replied.
"Very good. Since no jury is involved, we can dispense with opening statements. How does the Defendant plead to the charge of first degree murder, accessory after the fact of first degree murder, deliberate derilicition of duty and conduct unbecoming a Justice League member?" Wonder Woman asked.
"Nightwing pleads not guilty," Barbara replied.
"Very well. Green Lantern, call your first witness."
Green Lantern stood and looked toward the entrance to the Hall of Justice. "The prosecution calls Elliott Brooks to the stand."
The door opened and a middle aged man entered escorted by Hawkman. Apprehension was clear on his face as he walked down the aisle created by the gallery chairs. He tugged self-consciously at the brown suit jacket he wore. Nervously, he stood before the tribunal.
Sensing how ill at ease the witness was, J'onn spoke softly. "Thank you for coming Mr. Brooks. Do not be nervous. If you would please take the stand." Martian Manhunter gestured toward the witness chair that had been set up near the Tribunal's table. "If you would please slip your hand in the lasso, Hawkman will tighten the cinch."
"La-asso?" the man asked, his voice slightly stuttering.
"My lasso of truth," Wonder Woman answered. "Our unique substitute for the oath. If you would ... it won't hurt a bit."
Brooks did as he was asked and J'onn nodded to Green Lantern to begin. He asked all the preliminary questions, the who, what, why and where to set the stage and bring Mr. Brooks to the Haven Hotel on that fateful night.
"What happened after you heard the gunshot, Mr. Brooks?" Lantern questioned the man.
"It was late. I was getting ready for bed but I wanted a soda. I went to get ice and was about to go back in my room. I heard a sound. I think it was a gunshot. So I was hurrying to get back to my room when ..." The man shook his head. "I wish I hadn't been there that night."
"What did you see Mr. Brooks?"
"This guy came crashing through the door like he had been shot out of a cannon and he slammed into the wall across the hall. I couldn't move. I was just watching."
Lantern nodded. "I can imagine, Mr. Brooks. Can you describe the man who came crashing out of the door?"
"I couldn't say how tall he was or anything 'cause he was upside down at first. But he was in some weird " Elliot Brooks stopped mid sentence and looked around the costumed crowd assembled on the JLA's Watch Tower. Brooks cleared his throat and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. Placing the glasses back on his face, he coughed and continued. "Well, he was in this blue and black body suit thing with boots and gloves and a mask and everything. He was young, you could tell that and he had really black hair."
"Do you see that man in this court room?" Lantern asked.
Brooks nodded. "Yeah ... yes he is." He pointed toward the defense table at Nightwing. "That's him."
"Let the record reflect that the witness identified Nightwing, the Defendant. Mr. Brooks, what happened then?"
"A really big ... man I guess you would call him, came out of the room behind him. He was the biggest man I've ever seen." Green Lantern approached him with a photograph of Roland Desmond. He marked the photograph as prosecution exhibit one and asked the witness if that was the man he was describing. "Yes. That's him. They fought. And then they went into the stairwell."
"I'd like to introduce exhibit one, the photograph of Roland Desmond," he said handing the photograph to Aquaman. "Thank you Mr. Brooks. No further questions." Green Lantern smiled as he moved back to his chair.
Flash stood. "Mr. Brooks, you were scared that night, weren't you?"
"Oh yes. I thought I was going to die."
"What happened when Desmond, the big guy, came out into the hall?"
"He was taunting the young man. Talking about how the people around him wouldn't be safe. He pointed his gun at me and I just knew I was going to die. But he," Brooks once again pointed at Nightwing. "He saved me. He yelled for me to get down, jumped between me and the bullet, and knocked me down. He shielded me with his own body. I don't know anyone who would've done that for me."
"So the big guy was armed?"
"Yes."
"After Nightwing saved your life, what did he do then?"
"He fought with the big guy. The big guy had turned to shoot a bellhop who had walked into the mess. The masked guy was really hurt, but really mad. He kicked the big guy in the face from ... like ... a total handstand. You know a ... a flip or ... something. It was the craziest thing I'd ever seen. The big guy hit the wall and plaster cracked and fell everywhere."
"Do you recall whether they were talking to each other?" Flash asked, as he leaned against the corner of the defense table, his arms crossed in front of him.
"The big man was continuing to taunt him." Brooks said.
Jean Loring whispered in Green Lantern's ear prompting him to stand. "I'm going to object if he's going to ask about hearsay."
"Hearsay! He was there! He knows what he heard!" Flash responded.
"Flash," Barbara growled. She crooked her finger at him beckoning him to her. "State of mind."
"Kind of flustered at the moment, Barb," Flash started then backed up from the table at Barbara's glare. "OH!" Turning toward the tribunal he said, "It's not hearsay because it showed the declarant's then existing state of mind."
"Overruled," Captain Marvel said. "Continue Flash."
"Thank you. Mr. Brooks, you said that Desmond was taunting Nightwing. How?"
The insurance salesman from Hoboken, New Jersey looked to the five League members comprising the Tribunal. At the Martian Manhunter's nod, he answered the question. "I can't remember everything he was saying. I mean I was trying to keep from getting killed, but it was about how he was going to kill everyone Nightwing cared about."
Flash nodded, "Blockbuster was armed and threatening Nightwing, correct?"
"Yes," the man said from the stand.
"Thank you." Flash turned and watched Barbara nod at him before he headed back for the table. "Nothing further."
Lantern stood, "Two redirect questions." At Wonder Woman's assent, he began, "Was Blockbuster still armed with a gun when they went into the stairwell?"
Elliott Brooks shook his head. "No. When Nightwing did the handstand kick thing it disarmed the big guy."
"I see. Now you said that Nightwing was 'really mad'. How mad is that?"
"Like he could kill the guy."
Babs reached behind Nightwing and slapped Wally on the shoulder then nodded toward the tribunal. Wally jumped to his feet, "Objection!" and then turned towards Babs as she mouthed the word how. "Oh yeah … uh … Objection, your honors, how does the witness know how mad Nightwing was?"
Green Lantern immediately countered, "He knows because he was there."
Flash glared at Stewart, "No, that's not what I meant."
"Perhaps you could tell us what you meant … quickly." Wonder Woman prompted.
"I mean how does he know if he was mad enough to kill? He's making a prejudicial statement based on his belief of the ultimate outcome of the encounter. Has he ever seen someone that actually was mad and then in anger took a life?"
"You mean other than Nightwing?" Green Lantern said.
"Objection!" Babs opened her mouth, but Flash beat her with a roar.
Wonder Woman frowned at Green Lantern and he shrugged. "I withdraw that comment."
Wonder Woman nodded, "Computer, strike Green Lantern's comment previous to the last objection." There was a tone acknowledging the edit and Wonder Woman looked back at Flash. "The original objection is sustained."
Green Lantern looked toward Jean, who shook her head. He tilted his head as he turned back. "I'll rephrase." Blue Beetle looked toward Jean and she sighed as Stewart continued. "Have you ever seen a very angry person before?"
Brooks, befuddled by the commotion of his previous comment, answered slowly, "Yeah … I mean yes."
"As angry as the defendant in the hall that night?"
Brooks shook his head, "No. Never anyone that … that angry. It was scary angry. Like a rage. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I was scared that if I got in between them I would be killed. I wanted to just get out of there and hide. I mean the big guy was shooting people and threatening the masked guy. He deserved to die and if the masked guy killed him, who could blame him?"
Green Lantern made eye contact with the Tribunal. "Indeed, who could blame him."
Flash hopped up again, "OBJECTION!"
Green Lantern quickly responded before the Tribunal could respond, "Withdrawn."
Superman stared out from one of the observation windows in the Watchtower's unique position in the Mere Serenitatis crater. The view of the earth thousands of miles below them could still take even his breath away. Usually this was a comforting, serene place for his contemplations. Not today. Today his mind was troubled. He tried to not hear the testimony in the Hall of Justice. His attempts were unsuccessful. He hated this. Hated this with every fiber of his being.
"It's hard isn't it?"
"What?" Superman said turning to greet Alan Scott, the original Green Lantern.
"When someone you love is in trouble. When despite all your powers you can't help them. I've been there with my son."
Superman nodded at the mention of Obsidian, the young meta who had started out as a hero only to be taken over by the shadows in his heart and the darkness of his powers switching to join forces with their enemies. Currently, Todd Rice was in therapy. He wanted to resume his hero persona, although the status of his powers was still an issue. He wanted, no needed, to make amends for the malevolent actions he took. Obsidian was the original Green Lantern's son. Alan had been the one who had to take his son down on two different occasions. Yes, he would understand.
"Is it wrong of me to be wishing for some natural disaster that requires my attention at the moment? Anything to take me away from here, and what I have to do."
"It's certainly a natural reaction. For all of your powers and abilities, you're more human than most of the mere mortals you walk with."
"There are no mere mortals here." Superman gave Alan a slight smile.
Alan nodded. "True. You know, I understand how difficult this must be for you. Testifying against Nightwing. I know you consider that boy family. I can relate you know. Turning Todd over to the custody of the DEO ... father's shouldn't have to do that."
"No. They shouldn't," Superman replied as he once again turned to the window.
"Families should not have to do that." Alan Scott placed a comforting hand on Superman's shoulder. "You just do what you have to do. We all do. It will be all right and he will understand."
Superman gave his friend a sad smile and nodded in understanding. Inclining his head slightly, he spoke. "They want me in the Hall." He strode away from his friend, took a deep breath, and entered the Hall of Justice.
He smiled slightly at Dick as he took his seat and went through the preliminary questions setting the stage for the meat of his testimony. His mind went back in time to the night he had answered Nightwing's distress call. To the unsettling events on the roof.
Green Lantern paced in front of the witness chair. "What did Nightwing say to you when you arrived at the Haven Hotel?"
"He told me to look in the stairwell," Superman replied, containing his answer to only what he was asked.
"Did you look?"
"Yes," he replied, the muscles in his strong jaw flexing.
"Please describe for the tribunal what you saw."
"Blockbuster. Roland Desmond. He was dead, shot in the head. He was just laying there in a pool of blood off the fourth floor landing."
"What did Nightwing say about Desmond's death?"
Superman looked at Nightwing. The boy did not face him; instead, he looked down at the defense table. He had a pen in his hand doodling on the canary legal pad. "He said a lot of things," Superman responded. He watched as John Stewart stood erect, his back ramrod straight. Superman did not have to be psychic to know the Green Lantern was not appreciative of his hemhawing. Sighing, he replied, "He said I killed him. But he didn't kill him. He was upset."
"Thank you for the editorial commentary, Superman, but the answer to my question was Nightwng said he killed Blockbuster. Is that correct?"
"Yes." Superman looked down. His hands gripped the arms of the chair. He consciously had to control his strength to keep from crushing the flimsy steel frame.
"Now, did Nightwing tell you more about what happened that evening," Lantern asked picking up Superman's statement from his file.
"He was saying it was all his fault and that ... he had walked away and let her shoot him. That he had wanted her to shoot him. Nightwing did not say who the her he spoke about was."
"He said he wanted this female to kill Blockbuster and he walked away so she could kill him. Thank you Superman. Pass the witness," Stewart said with a gesture to the defense table.
Oracle looked up, her green eyes locking on Superman. "Could you describe Nightwing when you arrived on the scene?"
Superman looked up; his eyes took in the young man sitting beside the red headed attorney. "He was a wreck. Physically and mentally."
"Objection!" Green Lantern rose as he spoke. "Superman is not an expert and therefore would not be in a position to competently judge the state of mind of the defendant."
Barbara turned slightly, "You're saying that Superman, a hero who has lead nearly every hero associated with the Justice League, faced meglomaniacs on a daily basis, and dealt with desperate people as a matter of course through his heroic endeavors is not capable of telling if someone he knows almost as well as he knows himself is upset?"
John grimaced, but continued. "I'm saying that he's approaching an area that while he might be familiar with, is not a trained expert in."
Martian Manhunter leaned forward slightly and smiled, "Objection overruled. As the defense stated, Superman's day to day experience give him sufficient knowledge to judge the mental state of someone in a high stress situation, especially a hero and someone well known to him. The witness may continue."
Superman nodded, "As I was saying, he was just a wreck. His clothes were ripped, torn, sooty, and soiled. He smelled of fire singed material, blood, sweat, tears. His whole body shook with a slight tremble uncharacteristic for Nightwing. He was beside himself with grief, shame, and regret. He said it was all his fault that Blockbuster was dead. He was " Superman looked behind Nightwing to Batman. Batman sat immediately behind his son. "He was crying. He was dazed, confused."
Nightwing looked down. He hated this. Hated listening to Superman describe what happened that night. Describe how weak and broken he was. Listening to the words of the man he respected above all others, save one. Nightwing was afraid of losing his composure, of breaking the facade he fought hard to control.
"Superman, on direct you stated that Nightwing said someone else actually killed Blockbuster. Did Nightwing tell you who?" Oracle asked.
Superman shook his head. "No. I know there had been a woman there. I could smell her perfume. It was in the stairwell and it was on the roof. That was about all there was on the roof besides Nightwing. There was no gun anywhere around. And there was no smell of gunpowder on Nightwing."
"Why did Nightwing call you, Superman?" Barbara asked. She watched the witness and the Tribunal who also watched the witness.
Superman longed to reach out from his seat and comfort Nightwing. "He wanted me to go with him to turn himself in. He wanted to save Batman from having to do that or having to take him down. That's what he felt he deserved." Superman looked out into the audience and saw Alan Scott. Their eyes met in understanding. "He was just so despondent ... I was worried about him. About what he might do. That's why I took him to Metropolis and then brought him here."
"What he might do?" Barbara pressed. "Did you think Nightwing was a danger to the community?"
Superman shook his head. "No. I thought he was a danger ... to ... himself." He looked at the young man at counsel table head bent, eyes down he knew this was harder for Dick than it was for him. Hearing other people describe what had to have been the worst night of his life. Superman wished he didn't have to be a part of this. But he had started it all. He had to stay involved. Had to help Nightwing however he could.
Alfred tinkered around the kitchen as he baked Snickerdoodles and chocolate chip cookies. His senses were more than Batlike. Without turning, he spoke, "Miss Cassandra, those cookies are for Master Dick."
The girl froze, her hand above the cooling cookies. She had been trained as an assassin since birth. Stealth was her way of life, yet she couldn't sneak a cookie in this man's kitchen. She jutted her lower lip out. "He can't eat all of them."
"How many he eats is up to him." Alfred replied. "You can have some from the next batch. I want to box these up nicely for him. Master Dick will need a pick me up after the day's trial activities."
Tim sighed at the mention of the trial. He waited in the Manor for the prosecution to call him to the watchtower to testify. It made him sick, the thought that he had to testify against Dick. It was all so wrong. Alfred looked at the boy. He could tell how upset he was about the whole sordid affair. He sighed. "Perhaps, you and Master Tim could have a few of these cookies and I'll finish Master Dick's box from the next batch." Alfred took two small dessert plates over, filled each with cookies, and sat them before the two youngsters.
"Do you think they'll let Dick have the cookies?" Tim asked almost absent-mindedly.
"I would not want to see the person who tries to prevent me from giving them to him," Alfred replied. He winked at Cassandra who giggled as she shoved a cookie in her mouth. "It's been far too long since I've seen that boy, and I dare say he will need a friendly face this evening."
Tim sighed. "I wonder how bad it's going?"
"Maybe it's not going bad," Cassandra said between munching her cookies. "Maybe Barbara is slaying their case."
"Wishful thinking," Tim sighed. "Why does this have to be happening? Dick doesn't deserve this! He didn't even kill Blockbuster, Tarantula did! And we brought her in! IT'S NOT FAIR!" Tim shouted in frustration.
Cassandra sat her cookie on her plate and looked across at Tim. She wished she could comfort him, but she didn't know how. She knew how to hurt people, but she hadn't learned how to comfort them. She turned her eyes to Alfred. He knew how to comfort people. She could learn from watching him.
Alfred hastily moved to Tim, turning the boy toward him allowing the boy to hold tightly onto him. "There, there lad. We must remember that everything will be all right. Master Bruce won't let anyone harm Master Dick. Don't worry about it lad."
Blue Beetle pointed to the enlarged photograph on the screen before the tribunal. "Now Dr. Charles, you conducted the autopsy of Roland Desmond, didn't you?"
"Yes," the petite woman answered. She pushed the small wire rimmed glasses up on her nose and looked at the photograph. Sarah avoided making eye contact with Nightwing or any of the other Titans, especially Vic, who sat in the audience. She steeled her attention at the photograph of the large grayish body on the metal tray in the autopsy room and remembered being called to Bludhaven that night to conduct the autopsy of the meta-human. She had been shocked to hear of Nightwing's alleged involvement. She considered him, as well as most of the old Titans team, a friend from the days she and Victor Stone had been an item. "That photograph was taken by my lab assistant during my initial examination of the body."
"Were you able to determine a cause of death for Mr. Desmond as a result of your autopsy?"
"Yes, I was. Roland Desmond was killed from a contact gun-shot wound to the back of the head.."
"Could you describe that wound please, Dr. Charles, using the photographs to illustrate?" Blue Beetle asked.
"Certainly," Sarah replied.
As she started with her explanation, Dick leaned over to Barbara and whispered, "Why are we going through this? There's no question he's dead, there's no question how he died, so what is the point of this?"
"They have to prove the cause of death to be other than natural, accidental or self-inflicted."
"The back of his head was blown off. I think that's a given," Dick replied agitated.
"Dick," Barbara growled, "this is a murder case. They have to prove it all. We aren't concedeing anything."
"I don't want to see all these photographs. I don't want to hear all of this, Babs," Dick implored.
"Then don't look," she ordered, turning her attention back to the testimony.
Sarah Charles had stepped down from the stand and was pointing to different photographs explaining the entrance wound, explaining how the small caliber bullet could have created the gaping wound to Desmond's head. It wasn't the bullet alone, but the explosive force of gases tearing and blowing back the skin. How the bullet was a special type of ordinance that was heavier and jacketed than a normal .22 caliber. How when there is bone backing the skin such as the flat bones of the skull, that the bone behaves like a hard surface causing a back splash of blood onto the hand holding the gun.
Dick looked down at his hands. The blood had splattered more than just on the hand holding the gun, but on the hands that had allowed Tarantula to continue to hold that gun. His jaw flexed. It wasn't the gruesome photographs that sickened him or the nauseating testimony; it was the replay of those events in his own mind. For all their description, they didn't live through the event. They would never be able to capture the sheer and utter horror of watching it unfold before his eyes. Not just that one time, but all of the times it replayed in his head at an excruciatingly slow speed.
Flash, stood up when the prosecution finished their direct examination. "Good Afternoon, Dr. Charles," he smiled.
Sarah Charles smiled back at him. "Flash."
"Now, Sarah, you talked about the blood splattering on the gunman," Flash started as he moved to the evidence table and picked up Nightwing's gloves from the evidence table, "Would you take a look at these." He handed her the plastic bags containing the gloves. "Would the blood on those gloves be consistent with the splatter you're talking about?"
"No. There's not enough blood. From a contact wound of the type Roland Desmond suffered, the shooter had to be standing directly behind the deceased. From that angle, the shooter would have been splattered with a great deal of blood from head to at least waist level. The hands holding the gun would have had considerably more blood on them than what's shown here."
"Can you tell anything by the blood splatter on Nightwing's gloves?"
"That he wasn't standing behind the deceased at the time of death. This type of splatter would be side collateral spray. I'd say he was a good four to five feet away."
"Thanks, Dr. Charles," Flash said. "And you can't tell from your autopsy whether Nightwing was telling the shooter to shoot Desmond or to not shoot or to stop or anything, can you?"
Sarah Charles shook her head. "No, I can't tell that at all."
"Thank you Dr. Charles, that'll be all." Flash moved to the defense table and sat down. He watched as Blue Beetle stood and announced he had no further questions of Sarah and watched as she left the Hall of Justice. Sitting, his balled fist gently tapped his friend's hand reassuringly. He was rewarded with a sad smile from Nightwing.
Green Lantern stood tall and erect at the prosecution table. He looked over toward the defense, his eyes resting on the defendant who was talking in low whispered tones to Flash. Lantern's eyes then drifted behind Nightwing. "The prosecution calls Batman to the stand."
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
