The Batwing sliced through the dark night air like a knife. A ripple of starless black against the constellation-adorned sky. The Batman was on the hunt. Not a man-hunt or anything so grand or bold, but a hunt to satisfy his curiosity. When something arose that the Batman had no experience of it demanded study, dissection, understanding, and most importantly: counter-acting.
Across the globe a pattern of strange energy readings have been reported, spawning from nothing with seemingly no reason and ceasing just as rapidly.
His own satellites have managed to obtain a few images of a rounded oval-like 'white hole' (as Robin has come to nickname it); spewing blinding light, intense winds and blizzards from it's mouth like ash from a volcano. Energy-readings imply that it's very first appearance in Antarctica had gone totally unnoticed; no doubt a white window hemorrhaging flurries of snow being well disguised amongst the region's natural weather and tundra.
When it made it's second appearance deep in Missouri - in the middle of summer - it did not escaped as unnoticed.
The location seemed utterly random, sharing nothing in common with it's Antarctic origin. 'Central' City the place is named. A backwater collection of broken sidewalks and low-class eateries that have managed to sprawl far enough across the landscape to be recognized as a 'city'. It boasts nothing to the world around it except for it's rising population of meta-human thieves, no doubt attracted to the easy score with it's lacking security systems and crumbling financial infrastructure.
Yet here, amongst streets dank enough to rival Gotham's own had the energy returned, blazing into existence in the middle of Central's busiest high-street and blasting gale-force winds and snow around the sleepy city. The uplift from the winds sendt civilians flying and cars slamming into each other in confusion; creating a concatenation of screams and blaring car horns before evaporating into thin air. It left behind only the snow on the sidewalk - rapidly melting into slush in the summer heat - to prove the incident had ever occurred.
From the police reports, insurance claims and youtube videos taken at the time, Batman has cautiously scrubbed through enough footage to rest assured that this 'white hole' needs to be dealt with. The chaos it created in it's mere minutes of existence warrant it's termination.
Batman's best situational estimates included renegade magic and a haphazard attempt by some far-flung alien race at first contact.
The less conservative population of Central and its sister-city Keystone are raving across the internet everything from the miss-trial of a new government weapon to divine proof of the upcoming end of the world.
Robin had cackled as he read the article; the notion of the upcoming apocalypse entertaining his 13 year old, but little else.
Personally Bruce hopes the thing hits Metropolis next. The last thing Gotham needs is more unexplained anomalies to shake the delicate sanity of those that choose to dwell here.
The next place the White Hole opens is downtown Gotham.
Mindful of the powerful winds recorded at the Central City incident-site, the Batwing descends with the ease of a harrier jet; touching down a small distance from the abandoned warehouse district where once more a blizzard blusters like a tornado.
The place was fortunately and understandably deserted. A glance to the instruments within the craft's cockpit report a dramatic drop in the wind-speeds present here, concurrent with the speed it had lost between the Antarctic and Missouri appearances.
Whatever it is, it's loosing energy, and at the rate of doing so possibly will not be making any other appearances after this one as Robin reports over the com, apparently pleased that for once the problem is poised to fade away of it's own volition; a rare event in their experience.
The air crackles with something akin to electricity, the deafening thrum of raw energy snapping at the sky and ground.
The wind proves strong enough to lift the heavy obsidian cape from Batman's shoulders and playfully toss it around, but too weak to lift the weight of the Dark Knight himself.
The Batman stalks forwards slowly until he's arrived at the White Hole's mouth; a bastion of calm against it's roaring storm. The light-weight computer built into his gauntlet begins taking any readings up close that his satellites can't; probing the shining void for electromagnetic, radioactive, seismic and atmospheric readings; the results are fed into the Bat computer manned by Robin back at the cave.
Abruptly, it shifts; the ever-present hum howling as if in agony in one last blaze of energy. The wind begins to die all around it, suffocating itself.
The blizzard eases from hail to sleet and slowly exhausts itself all together. His gauntlet confirms air pressure and atmospheric readings returning to normal, the crackling buzz of energy that had been beating through the cowl and into his eardrums fading away as the White Hole shrinks in front of him, consuming itself as it grows ever smaller. It's blazing white lightning recedes into a pale glow.
"Batman! Theres an energy spike building at the event horizon! I think it's gonna' explode" Robins voice hurriedly interrupts.
"Understood."
Batman hates a mystery unsolved… but some things are simply destined to remain unknown… for now. Gotham's knight turns his back to the curiosity and runs with the strength and speed of an Olympic athlete; the Batwing's canopy sliding open ready to receive him at the touch of a button as he nears.
"Its going critical! Bru-"
The light explodes.
It rings in his ears, his dark cape quickly pulled over his head to shield his eyes and body from the blinding flash and immense heat. The energy in the air stings, leaping over him like a wave. The sky turns white, pebbles of loose concrete beneath his feet roll abruptly into the distance as the Batman is forced to brace himself against the rippling punch of the wind.
"-CE"
The ringing in his ears begins to quiet.
"-AT-N!"
"BRU-"
"BRUCE!"
"I'm here" He replies into his com, Robin's genuine worry temporarily saving him from the 'no names, even over secure channels' lecture he will be receiving in the not too distant future.
"Oh man." Robin breathes on the other end of the line. "Th-The spike was increasing slowly and then suddenly it just - Spiked! It wasn't normal!"
It certainly wasn't normal as explosions go, Bruce could attest to that.
Pulling his cape back from its position as a protective shroud, he stares back to where the crater should be. Where the White Hole had been. Dust and rubble have been blasted away from it leaving a ring of debris in it's wake, but no damage had been made to the surrounding buildings.
Abruptly Batman snatches at his utility belt, drawing a Batarang poised and ready.
Trailing away from the site in his direction are two deep trenches cut through concrete and earth alike to rip apart the ground. They resemble the tracks of a train, or the skid-marks of a car, or the claws of a beast.
His gaze follows the marks to within a foot of his body, where they veer wildly in a wide arc before haphazardly resuming, running straight towards… or rather, straight into...
The Batwing...
Newly damaged with a dent Bruce doubted even Alfred's near compulsive buffing will be able to get out.
The metal used in the Batwing's construction is the finest military grade that exists. Triple reinforced, it can withstand pressures mightier than submarines. To see it caved in questions what sort of force is capable of warping it so. It would seem however that the Wing's assailant has not escaped unscathed.
Coating the impact sight is a liberal and glossy coating of thick red blood.
There, lying sprawled on the ground before the craft is a distinctly bipedal mass, and from the water-melon sized dent in the Batwing's hull it can be assumed the mass won't be making any moves any time soon.
"Robin, activate the optical link to my cowl and prepare the Cave to render medical aid."
It lies on it's side, shivering wildly with it's back and shock of dirty red hair facing him. Surging forward the Batman looms over the downed quarry. It's curled up on itself almost fetal until a gentle but firm tug on it's shoulder makes it uncurl bonelessly, flopping onto it's back limply like a trembling corpse.
He groans.
It's a man, but a young one.
Only a few years beyond Robins age.
Thin and gaunt, the skin pulled tightly over his ribs rises and falls in desperate stuttering gasps. One glazed green eye stares up at him unseeingly and chapped blue lips twitch in the beginnings of some delirious unknown word before both fall suddenly shut, the strain proving too much.
A rudy pool is growing swiftly beneath his head.
Not first contact then.
Small mercies. He'd leave the 'welcome to earth' pleasantries to Clark.
His skull is cracked open and thick dark blood spills messily down his forehead to dribble down his long straight nose, dodging doggedly between a series of barely-visible faded freckles.
His breath staggers out in shallow unsteady pants.
The Batman presses his fingers to his carotid artery, feeling a fast thready pulse beat tiredly beneath the young man's ragingly hot flesh. Despite the feverish temperature of his skin, his lips, nipples, toes and fingers are tinted blue with cold.
Aside from the obviously newly sustained injury to his skull there is evidence of previous trauma: enormous gashes across his uniform. The lenses from the goggles that frame his eyes are ruined, one missing in it's entirety, the other cracked beyond repair. The glass appears to have splintered inwards.
Male. Unknown meta-human, somewhere between 17 and 21. Broken skull, likely surrounding fractures, hypovolemic shock on-setting, erratic pulse: risk of cardiac arrest. Frost-bite in extremities. Possibility of glass lodged in his right eye.
The near mechanical analysis of his condition does not bode well.
He's wearing the remains of some form of suit. No superhero or villain affiliation currently known, but from a well structured guess judging from the surviving yellow and red color scheme and notable sweat and heat radiating from the body he'd guesses a Fire-meta of some description.
Not enough of the costume remains on his person to be called any form of clothing, the material appears to have melted away under the soles of his feet, knees, elbows, knuckles, beneath his armpits and across the inside of his thighs and groin, leaving only tattered scraps to cling desperately to his wrists, hips, neck and ankles.
The age suggests this is little more than another young meta-human's powers outgrowing their ability to control as they began to reach maturation. An unfortunate but not altogether uncommon event as the world's meta-human population continues to steadily increase.
A normal human (meta or not) the Batman would have left to the medical care of Gotham's hospitals, but a meta with still unknown powers on this scale is too dangerous, to both the meta himself and the public…
As it would happen, Gotham enjoys the presence of uninitiated meta's in it's city limits about as much as the Batman himself does. Which was to say, not at all. Meta-humans in Gotham have an unfortunate habit of either turning to life of crime, or turning up dead.
Covering the exposed body with the comforting weight of his cape, Bruce hooked his arms around the trembling young man's back and the crook of his knees, hoisting him into the cockpit of the Batwing and depositing him as gently as Batman is able to. His charge squeaks out a sort of soft pained whimper.
He moans and tries weakly to pull away as Batman fixes a temporary bandage around his head, the skull beneath his fingers shifting slightly, feeling unnaturally unstable.
"Agent A here, sir" Comes a brisk prim voice over the Batwing's radio as it's engines roar to life with the ferocious snarl of jet turbines. "The medical enclosure is prepped and ready to receive you. What is status of the patient?"
"The Optical cowl link has been recording."
See for yourself.
The line is silent as Alfred reviews the footage.
"Oh my" the butler mutters to himself "Poor lad."
AN:
Yep, so it's another pan dimensional YJ/JLU fix-it fic. I know this chapter's written a bit differently to the first. It's suposed to feel like looking back on a Bat mission report. Mainly to hide the fact I have no idea how to write Batman or Robin. I'm trying to breeze through this fic quite quickly. Theres another Wally fic I'm debating writing but it needs this one to set the background. I can't really recall Young Justice that well so if anything from it in this fic isn't right just ignore it.