Chapter 2:
"Sidekicks"
With a credit card, Damian Wayne got his own condo apartment.
People thought that he was younger than he claimed, but with a fake ID, he said he was seventeen, and of the right age to move out on his own. He bought it outright, so there were no questions. Some people thought he was underaged—it was what a lot of people thought because he was short and looked like a kid; which he was; he was only thirteen; but it was politically incorrect to assume that he was younger when he showed the proper ID; he just said he was short for his age—but Damian was very convincing, especially when you had an unlimited bank roll.
Damian was smarter than most kids his age, so he was able to get away with a lot of things. People didn't think that he knew as much as he did. He had both book smarts and street smarts and that had a lot of that had to do with Dick Grayson.
Despite his outward friendly and joke-some appearance, Grayson was actually a very serious and intelligent guy. Not as intelligent as Tim Drake, but he knew his way around a computer, and he knew his way around the streets, and he had a lot of financial bank accounts tucked away with a lot of capital. Damian was using that money now since Dick had obviously forgotten he had all this money stored away. Dick had told him once if ever he was in trouble that he could use the money to his advantage in moderation.
So, this is what Damian used now, because after he used one of his father's platinum credit cards to purchase the condo, and other essentials, which was actually more of a loft on the top of a tall condo building in downtown Bludhaven, it was quickly cancelled for its erroneous purchases. Bruce knew who had used it, but he didn't call the police. But he did scold Damian.
Now, not only did he use Grayson's money, but he also gave back with every dollar spent, fifty cents, making him a profit, because he knew how to make money as well as fight crime. He had fixed the Wayne finances when his father was out of commission, it was the same time Grayson had to taken over as Batman in his place.
Putting together a secret room in his new condo in Bludhaven to store his weapons and gear—he built it himself; it was laborious and tedious, but over the time it took to build it, it was well worth the effort—he gazed upon it with pride. It was basically a large walk in closest, and it reminded him of the Batcave, where he would change into his Robin costume.
As Nightwing Junior—he knew the name sounded a little cliche—he'd fight crime and use his mentor's lessons to aid in this plight. He knew when Grayson was in Bludhaven that he had cleaned up the streets. But now the streets needed cleaning up again. He knew his father and Tim could take care of Gotham City themselves. With recent events, he needed to be on his own.
As he donned his newest costume, the blue and black and the mask, he looked at himself in a standing mirror, and smiled. "This is for you, Grayson," he said, twirling his escrima sticks—Grayson's sticks. He had designed his costume from a pair of exercise tights and then made some alterations. "One day, your memory will return, and you'll remember me, and everyone else. But until that day, I will be your saving grace, I'll keep your memory alive. And I'll be the one in the shadows protecting the citizens of Bludhaven from the criminals that now again infest it."
As he came out of the walk-in closest, he suddenly saw a figure and it knocked on his window at his balcony. He rolled his eyes. It was Jon Kent. Damian went over and opened the window and allowed his friend to come inside.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he said gruffly to his friend. "Kent! People could see you and learn about my new hideout!"
Jon Kent smiled big. "Just wanted to see the place," he said. "I heard good things about it, you texted me about it couple of days ago. My dad wouldn't let me come, so I snuck away."
"Well, now you can leave. You've seen it."
"Don't be such a sourpuss, Damian. Let me see the whole thing. You're calling yourself Nightwing Junior now, eh?" Jon snickered. "Kinda corny…" Damian sneered at him. "But it works," he then said quickly, a little fearful. When they fought crime together, they got into a lot of arguments and Damian was so scary when he got angry. "Can I pick a name for it? How about the WingCo?"
"WingCo?"
"As in the Nightwing Junior Condo, or WingCo—Get it?"
Damian was about to say something, and say no, but then he quickly thought about it. "You know, that's not half bad."
Damian escorted Jon around his new place. It was very big, in fact, too big for just one person, and Jon even joked about them moving in together, teaming up like they did with their dads. They had their own special hideout before when they were the team known as the "Super Sons", they called themselves. But it would only be Damian and Jon. Not their fathers.
But Damian wouldn't have anything of it. He didn't need a sidekick. But when he mentioned the word "sidekick", Jon refuted the idea that he would ever be Damian's sidekick. They were equals.
Jon could fly, he has super strength, and he had x-ray vision. Damian had training with the League of Assassins, but he was human. He didn't have any special powers, but sometimes a person didn't need special powers to be a very versatile.
"I'm going on patrol now, Jon. You can be fit to leave, but as a courtesy you can come and go as you wish."
Jon smiled, "Thanks Dami."
—Tt— "What did I tell you about calling me that! It's Damian, not Dami. Dami sounds so demeaning and childish."
"We'e kids, Dami, get used to it. Now let me come along, I want to see you on patrol. It should be fun—as Nightwing Junior."
Damian protested, but Jon would not relent. "Fine, you can come along. But don't get in the way. There are a lot of vicious criminals in BludHaven, and I also like to keep a close eye on Grayson."
Jon suddenly became very somber. "I understand, Damian. I heard about what happened. It was very sad. Can anything be done?"
"We're still working on it. Until we find out who actually did the shooting—we have a suspect, but it might not be who we think it is, and all this might be some deeper plot against Grayson—all I can do is watch him."
"Other than then being a superhero, who would want to hurt Dick Grayson?"
"Nightwing has a lot of enemies and we're not sure if anyone knows his real identity. In the meantime, I like to keep a very close eye on him. He's not himself and he needs, for sake of a better term, a guardian angel, to help him through these troubled times."
"Well, duh. He got shot in the head. His brain is like an egg in a frying pan, all mashed, and not sunny side up."
"Only you would come up with an analogy like that. Grayson has never taken drugs in his entire life. But now, with his head injury, according to his doctor, he'd on a lot of pills. And with his unstable behaviour as of late, I don't want him to fall off the wagon."
"How do you fall off a wagon?"
"If you're in enough pain, you will. And Grayson is in a lot of pain. Let's go!"
Shooting a tether line off the balcony and embedding it into a building near-by, Damian leapt into the air, while Jon flew off, and followed suit. Both of them ready to fight crime.
x x x
Gray was in a bar drinking. He popped a pill for his reoccurring headaches and then swilled them down with some beer. He had been told by some people from his past that he didn't remember that he wasn't much of a drinker when he was his "other" self before someone shot him in the head. Right now he didn't care. The alcohol helped numb the pain.
He felt a great deal of loss, but he didn't know why. It kind of felt like the feeling someone got when they lost a limb, but the nerves still registered it attached. Was it his brain telling him he had loss his mind? He laughed for no reason and a female bartender came over. "Another one, Ric? Or is it Gray? Which is it this week?"
"If you call me Dick, I'll slap you," he replied. He smiled boyishly or as best he could. With his crew cut hair and scars, he didn't feel much like his expression when he saw himself in the mirror behind the bar. He looked like he was staring at a stranger.
He also looked like a thug, like one of those hired hands attached to some of the more elite criminals. In the news, they were called Rogues. They mostly stayed in Gotham City, but on occasion they would venture over to Bludhaven.
At one point, people thought this city was done for, a lot of criminals had done a lot of damage to it, and it was left for dead. It was engaged in an all out war. But some smart entrepreneurs had managed to get funding to rebuild it, from some corporation called Wayne Enterprises. Even Bruce Wayne got involved. He'd heard the name before, but he couldn't remember why.
After swigging down his next beer, he stood up and used the restroom. As he urinated, Barbara Gordon's face suddenly came to mind, and he got a vicious headache. He grabbed his head and he missed this urinal, and pissed all over the floor like a firehose.
He banged his head with a fist and then hissed in god awful pain.
"Not a good idea, you stupid idiot! You just had brain surgery a few weeks ago." It was an injury that shouldn't cost him his life, but miraculously, he survived it in fair health, given the circumstances.
After he was done, he zipped, and left. He didn't bother to clean up or wash his hands. He paid his tab and then left the bar.
Outside, he felt a sudden feeling of vertigo and then lost his equilibrium and crashed into some trash cans out front. He collapsed and once again felt his head. He swore.
Suddenly, through blurry vision, he saw a figure land in front of him. Once his vision cleared, he saw it was a boy with a big 'S' on his long sleeve shirt, wearing ripped blue jeans at both knees. With him, was that kid again that everyone called Nightwing Junior.
What a stupid name, he thought.
"Are you ok, sir?" The boy with the 'S' on his shirt asked. He knelt down and extended his arms out as if to help.
Gray whipped the boy's arms away. "I can handle it, it's just a little vertigo. It comes and goes, it's from the meds I take." He looked at both of them. "I know the junior bird, but who the hell are you?"
"Call me Superboy. I'm a friend of" —he looked to the other— "Nightwing Junior." Jon had almost called Damian Robin. "Can we do anything to help you? Call a taxi?"
Gray sat up and leaned his back against the wall of the bar. "Nah, I can get home myself. I think? Sometimes I forget where I live." He felt his head. "Sometimes, I think of a strange mansion, somewhere. But I'm a bum. I have no money. I'm not rich. But I do like to fight—street fight."
—Wayne Manor— Both Damian and Jon gave each other a glance as if thinking of the same place.
Getting to his feet, Gray took in the superhero duo. But then looked at Superboy more intently. "You know, I know you from somewhere, you look very familiar. You have a familiar face I can't quite place."
Jon smiled, as if pleased Grayson may recognize him. It was a sign his memories were trying to come back. "I'm told I look like my dad, Superman," he said.
Gray sighed. "Superman? Sounds like a name someone would write for a character in a kids comic book. But I guess every kid thinks his dad is 'super' at one point. Unfortunately I can't remember my dad at all."
"That's because they were murdered," Damian spat out, as if in a fit of frustration, watching Grayson act so out of character. "A guy named Tony Zucco murdered them. But you went after him and settled things."
"Wish I could remember that, kid. Oh well, vigilantism is a big thing these days, so many of them out there. Hey, let me ask you something. There's this weirdo hanging around; wears a red helmet, I see him sometimes, almost everywhere I go…" It was then Gray shut-up. "Oh yeah, look who I'm taking to. A bunch of kids who think they're superheroes. Nevermind. Go home kids. I have a match a little later tonight against a heavyweight boxer and I need a little shuteye."
"I can take you to your apartment. Where is it?" Jon asked with a helpful smile.
Gray seemed to produce a small smile. "Thanks, kid, but I can handle it. I think I left my car around here somewhere?"
And then Grayson walked away.
x x x
"Are we just going to let him leave?" Jon said worried. "I can kidnap him and take him back to the 'hideout', and look in his mind, like a Vulcan Mind Meld."
"You can do that?"
"It's more of a feeling really. My dad has been teaching me the technique. It's new, he says. You look directly into a person's eyes and then gaze into their consciousness. Or something like that."
Like gazing into a person's soul through their eyes, as the saying went. Interesting, Damian thought. He thought about it, but then against it, for now. Unlike a medical brain scan, to see into Grayson's actual thoughts would be a step forward to help bringing him back, to see what was wrong. But that would also be a strict invasion of privacy. And he would never do that to Grayson.
"Let's get going. We're on patrol. Grayson can handle himself for now. We'll check on him later."
Damian shot a tether line into the air, it caught onto the side of a building, and then he leapt into the air. Jon Kent followed.
To be continued…
