11:35PM Nightwing

Covering the distance between Batman and I didn't take long, perhaps ten minutes. Oracle had pinpointed his location to an eastern-central monorail station; however, she had no intel on the happenings inside. The station was underground and the UAV couldn't get low enough to allow the camera a solid feed. I was going in blind—on the bright side of things, I was able to follow Batman's vitals in real time. I was surprised to discover that the big jerk had an actual heartbeat—a human one too!

Since we couldn't discern the situation, I opted to enter by way of the rail tube. I didn't want to walk through the front door and get smacked in the face by whatever managed to bring the Bat down. No use in both of us biting off more than we could chew. I held a pace just above a jog as I made my way through the pitch black tube. The micro-frame nightvision integrated into my head-piece aided tremendously in keeping me from stepping into any potholes. The pace was manageable, not competition-fast and not Department of Motor Vehicles slow. When the fighting broke out—and would because…well…this is Gotham—I wanted to be warmed up, not wore out.

I could feel a shudder in the ground. A shudder turned into a rumble, a rumble into a tremor, and a tremor into an angry roar. Then there was light. Then a train hurtled around the corner and screamed past me. I pressed myself into the wall, the train missing me by an inch or two. If I didn't make frequent use of the tubes, I would have felt like I survived by the skin of my teeth. But, I tended to do this often—I was used to it.

After a few more minutes of running, I came upon the opening to the dimly lit station. It was a vague oval shape with the rail splitting the difference long-ways and a set of stairs on either short side. To my right, in between me and the stairs were seven even men: A dark-haired teenaged male being held at gunpoint, a fat Asian guy, and a mix of others; two of the men were bleeding pretty good. Oh yeah…and Batman, he was laying on the floor in a pool of blood. He really was hurt.

I stopped and scanned the platform. Between me and the group were a series of cinderblock stanchions, several trash cans, two benches, and a vintage newspaper dispenser. Environment equaled cover when the shooting starts. Now, I just needed to get these lights out.

"Oracle, I need the junction that controls the lights on this platform. Help a guy out?"

"Sit tight while I look at the blueprint."

I began humming the theme to Jeopardy into the receiver as I crept towards the platform. I wasn't sure if the mic could transmit the vibration of the hum into a melody on the other end considering the throat-mics didn't actually use sound to transmit.

Don't think I won't punch you in the throat when you get back here," she said sounding vaguely distracted. Apparently, the throat-mic could produce a melody. Learn something new every day.

"Give me an exact position," she instructed.

I looked up at a sign above the tube. Its alpha-numeric code indicated position and direction. "I'm at the mouth of the south tube looking northeast."

"Look to your left about the nine-thirty to the ten o'clock position. You'll see a four-by-four foot-ish box. Should have a green band around the input."

"I see it."

"Open it and throw the switch, the lights should go out."

"Sweet. You're a peach, you know that right?"

"Focus, please. Batman's vitals indicate that he's losing a lot of blood."

I ran over to it, slung open the door, and pulled the switch. With a whur the lights blinked out of existence.

11:40PM Nightwing

The men began to holler as sudden darkness fell. I used it cover my exit from the rail channel and my zipping across the platform to take cover behind a stanchion.

"Ya know, Babs, we should do dinner this week. I found an excellent comedy restaurant in Bludhaven."

"Nightwing," she groaned, "can you take this seriously?"

"Oh, I'm taking it seriously, I'm just multitasking—schedule a date and save Batman's ass. Nightwing for the win."

"Less scheduling and more saving…"

I pulled a strobe light from my utility belt and placed it on the ground in the group's immediate field of view, keying its remote as I zipped off to the left. Bluish-white light pulsed in the cavernous station, a vertigo-inducing cascade of bright and dark. Each pulse highlighted me as I moved. They saw me, then they didn't.

"What the hell is that!" one of them screamed.

They opened fire towards rail channel, their heartbeats rising. I pressed myself against a stanchion as bullets whizzed and ricocheted all around.

"Nightwing," Oracle said, "are you okay?"

"Yup. Just a little busy getting shot at while trying to save my favorite darkness-in-distress. They can't get a bead on me, though."

"Is he okay? His vitals look erratic."

"Oracle, I can't hear you over the gunshots and screaming," I said turning off my micro-frames. "I'll get back to you." The pulses were irritating the nightvision; the muzzle flashes didn't help either. Besides, it was about to get a lot brighter.

I pulled a flashbang from my utility belt and slung it across the platform. It skipped twice and then click-clack-clacked to a stop before detonating. The me screamed like girls; the teenager buckled with his hands cupping his ears. Just a little collateral, he'd be okay.

I rushed out of cover, aiming for the nearest criminal. He was a quarterback and I was linerbacker in a full-blown sprint to crush his soul. There was a bench in between us; I cleared with it with a round-off and entered a backhand handspring. Two revolutions later, my feet were drilling through his chest. He buckled and flopped to the ground uncontesting my momentum. The move was totally impractical, but it fricking worked.

From the criminals' perspective, it was complete anarchy. The constant flashing of lights, the pyrotechnic, and my phantasmal presence disappearing and reappearing closer and closer with each pulse was confusing and terrifying. Their buddy was standing one second and on his back the next with me rolling across the ground towards the next thug.

I was on my feet again and accelerating in three steps towards the next party-goer. He raised his gun and I leapt, flattening out horizontal just beneath his aim. The criminal mashed the trigger several times, the bullets whizzed over and under me. I managed a lucky shot with my toe, getting under his arm and smacking him in the lips with the armor of my boot. He fell back. I hit the ground shoulders first and sprung to my feet with a kip-up, hitting the strobe's remote. The room went black. I keyed my micro-frames and assessed the fight. Four more to go.

They began to back away towards the what little light offered by the stairs exiting the station. "What the hell are you?" one screamed.

My answer: I scooped up his injured friend's gun and beamed it like a boomerang at the screamer's face, catching him cleanly in the mouth. Without even looking, I knew the damage was unholy. There was going be a few Gotham dentists eating well.

The other three turned tail and ran for the stairs.

I disconnected my escrima sticks from their charge-port just behind each shoulder in my jump-pack. I slung one at the feet of the last guy in the train of escapees—the overweight Asian guy—and tripped him. He hit the ground with a thud, smacking his forehead against the bottom step. The two paid him no regard and left him to his fate as the sprinted up the steps.

Casually, I walked over to him spinning my other escrima stick in my hand. I chewed my lower lip thoughtfully as I passed Batman, glancing down for a second at him and the teenager.

"Oh jeez, please, don't kill me!" the Asian man said rolling over. He had a nasty little cut above his eye from kissing the concrete. I came into the light and his eyes were clueless. I toggled a switch on my weapon and the business end began to arc with electricity. "Please, I beg you! Please don't kill me!"

Insert typical Bat-phrase: "There are worse things than death," I said, jabbing the live end of the stick into his gut. The taser started the Asian man convulsing. I drew the weapon away and he went limp, drooling on himself.

I looked back. The teenager was still there next to Batman. The kid had protected him from the thugs. I was impressed to say the least.

"Oracle?" I said turning off the taser and reseating the escrima.

"Go, Nightwing."

"I'm going to carry Batman into the rail tube. There's a safehouse about a half-a-mile from here. Gonna be a bit of an adventure with the occasional training whipping past, but I'll figure it out."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Not sure." I scooped up my loose escrima and reseated it, too. "I'll work it out when I get there."

Just then I heard sirens. "That's just swell," I said.

"What's the matter, now, Nightwing?"

"GCPD are on their way."

"Tell you what, the batmobile isn't far from you. I'll drive past the police and they'll chase it and leave you alone. That should give you time to get Batman clear."

You know what? Babs was damn brilliant. "Great idea," I replied.

I approached Batman, who was still lying unconscious and bleeding with the kid kneeling next to him.

All the kid could make out was my silhouette. So, I turned off my voice synthesizer—no need to spook him—and asked, "You okay, kid?"

"W-what?"

"I asked you if you were okay. You're not hurt are you?"

"N-no."

I knelt down and checked Batman's breathing. It was shallow but steady; he was in shock. I needed to check his wounds, but I couldn't do it here. I'd have to peel off his armor, plus I needed Alfred's help treating him. That required me to get him off the platform.

I grabbed a chunk of armor in each hand and hoisted Batman up, slinging him over my shoulder, grunting a little. He was only four inches taller and fifty pounds heavier but I never realized how hefty he was until I had to carry his big ass.

The kid rose with me, his face covered with confusion.

"Thanks, kid. The Bat's really grateful for what you did here today."

"I—uh—no problem." He didn't sound too sure. "Is he really Batman?"

"I don't think I caught your name."

"Tim…"

"You got a last name, Tim?"

"Drake. Tim Drake."

"We'll be seeing you around, Tim Drake," I said disappearing to the inky blackness with the Bat over my shoulder. "Be safe out there."

11:50 PM Nightwing