January 4th
Wally West had intentionally avoided all sources of news. He didn't watch news channels, avoiding looking at the papers, and carefully evaded any website that might potentially be a news source. It wasn't that he didn't want to know what was going on around him, it was because he didn't want to get involved. He knew that the only way to leave the life behind was to avoid anything that would tempt him back in. He knew, at least unconsciously, that if he ever returned to the life, he'd never be able to leave it again. He'd been caught in it forever.
And he knew Artemis missed the life already. She had put her mask away only for his sake, but it would be so very easy for her to be dragged back in, obliterating all hope of a normal life for either of them. That was something Wally couldn't face.
But he couldn't shut the world out completely. He still had to go out for groceries. Besides, both he and Artemis got stir crazy if they stayed at the apartment they'd rented for too long. On this particular morning, they had gone to the convenience store down the street.
As he was checking out, Wally noticed a paper lying on the counter. He made it a point not to read the headline, but could not entirely ignore the large black and white photograph that made up half the front page. He took a second look to be sure what he thought he saw was what he actually saw.
This was a mistake, as the second look gave his eyes time to stray to the headline.
The picture was a photo of the night sky, lit up by the bat signal. The headline read "Gotham cries out in vain: where has Batman gone?". Gotham was a city of scum and villainy if ever there was one, tearing itself apart at the seams. All that held it together most of the time was Batman and those who worked with him.
Wally's hand picked up the paper without his mind's consent. Everything inside him screamed that he should put the paper down, just walk away. But he couldn't do it. He'd known something was wrong. Robin was his best friend, and Wally felt he'd let him down somehow. And the headline only served to confirm that something had gone horribly wrong in Gotham and it had everything to do with Batman.
And probably Robin as well.
Artemis, who'd been looking at bread, came and read over Wally's shoulder.
"Hey," the store keeper said "either buy the paper or put it down, okay?,"
Wally paid for the paper as well as the groceries. They had barely gotten home when he unfolded the paper and read the whole article with Artemis.
The article was basically a horror piece, telling the tale of Gotham as it slowly burned itself to the ground as it had been doing since before Batman ever came on the scene. No one had seen Batman since December, at least no one reputable anyway. It only made the news now, but it was clear that the problem had been going on a long time. Batman had been making appearances, but doing progressively less to deal with the crime in Gotham. Withdrawing into himself, into his cave. Now he was gone.
"You have to let go, Wally," Artemis said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder "otherwise we'll never have any peace of mind,"
Wally started to put the paper down, but then shook his head.
"No. No, this isn't about the life at all," he turned to look at her, and she saw in his eyes that he was desperate for her to understand "this is about my friend. He needed my help, I could tell that. But I didn't do anything. I let this happen. I don't know what happened, or why, but I know that this is partially my fault,"
"No-," Artemis began, but Wally interrupted her.
"Yes, Artemis," he took her hands in his, and spoke with reluctance "I have to go back, find out what happened. And try to make this right,"
"You don't even know what's going on, how can you do anything to help?," Artemis asked.
"I don't know, but I don't have a choice,"
"Then I'll go with you,"
"No. We've started to make a life here. I want that, need that. Please, stay here and wait for me. I need you to do that, to give me a reason to come back,"
Artemis understood, even though she didn't like it. She would have preferred to go with Wally. Robin was her friend too. But she knew as well as Wally did that the pull to return to the life was strong. For Wally's sake, she would stay here. And wait.
January 6th
Grant Hauser had not been eager to sign on the teenage boy who'd walked into his office at the first of the year. He had longish black hair and a scruffy appearance, and he was pretty small, though Grant could see that he had a lot of muscle on him.
But construction workers were hard to come by this time of the year, and many of them were flaky. A little cold and wind and they all suddenly had the flu. Grant couldn't blame them. Winter was no time for building houses. But that's what he got paid to do.
He couldn't afford to turn down anyone willing to put in a good day's work for a day's wages.
"Alright, kid," he'd said "but only until my own crew is ready to pitch in again. This job's temporary, you got that?. And I'm not about to put up with you getting hurt on the job and trying to sue, understand?,"
"Yes, sir," the boy had replied evenly "I'll do my job, just so long as I get paid and you don't ask any questions about where I came from. My personal affairs are my own,"
That was another red flag. Grant didn't like prying into other people's business, but that he was specifically requested not to made him uneasy. This kid was obviously a runaway from somewhere. His parents could show at any time and give Grant a fit for having the kid work.
"Fine," Grant said begrudgingly.
Beggars could not be choosers. He was behind schedule already, and most of the guys working weren't proper construction workers anyway. They were just desperate for cash and willing to do anything to get it. But they had no experience. This was no way to build a house. But, unfortunately, Grant didn't run the company, just the work force.
"What's your name anyway?,"
"You can call me... Rick," the boy said after a moment.
"Alright, Ricky, you start tomorrow,"
Rick's eyes narrowed at the nickname, but he evidently felt it wasn't worth putting up a fuss over. He had shown up early the next day to work, and he'd held his own against the grown men who were probably twice his size.
Grant was impressed not only by his strength, but by his efficiency as well. Rick seemed to think about things before he did them, and maybe even had some experience building things. The other guys loved him. He was energetic and had a great work ethic. He didn't talk much, hardly ever smiled, but managed to endear himself to everyone despite that, probably because he never complained or caused any trouble or slacked off.
Rick had shown up every day since, except the fourth when it was snowing too much to work anyway. Grant was slightly annoyed that the boy didn't give him a phone number or address or any way of contacting him at all, but Rick made up for that by always being on time or having some sort of sense that told him no work was going to be done that day.
Now, on the sixth, Grant could barely see how they'd gotten along without Rick. Rick had a way of seeing problems and solving them before they even became problems. He was good at following instructions, but not if he had a better way of doing things.
Because they were so short-handed, Grant had to do more than supervise. He had to actively participate in much of the construction. Unfortunately, this meant there were plenty of times the inexperienced workers were left to their own devices.
That was very dangerous.
It was just above freezing today, which meant the ground was slick and muddy. Grant would have preferred to let everybody go home today, but they were far behind and he was afraid that the coming weather wasn't going to be any better.
They were working on the frame for a two-story house. Grant had been working with one of the guys on a side wall, and hadn't noticed that someone was using the crane to lift equipment up to the second level just overhead. They hadn't double checked the cable to make sure it was secure.
All of these elements combined, and a tragic accident was almost inevitable.
"Look out!," the shouted words and the scream of a small crowd which had gathered to watch the work were the only warning.
Grant and Dennison, the guy he'd been working with, both looked up, their faces drawn with horror as they realized the imminent danger to them. Both tried to leap clear. Dennison rolled into the skeleton of the house, Grant tried to run the other way, but slipped in the mud, falling to his hands and knees.
He was sure it was over for him. A split-second either way, and it would have been. Something slammed into his side and he slid in the mud, then rolled, coming to a stop at some distance. The crash was ear-splitting. Grant didn't realize he'd closed his eyes until he noticed how dark it seemed.
He opened his eyes. There were people running towards him, and where Dennison presumably was (Grant couldn't see him through the broken equipment and building materials), all of them shouting and impossible to understand. But Grant's eyes locked on his last-second rescuer.
Rick was crouched mere inches from the impact site, looking as though he'd landed there from a great height, as a hawk might fall upon a rabbit from above. He was eying the oncoming crowd warily. Grant could see that he was searching for something among the crowd.
He could guess what it was. Cameras. Everyone's phone had one. Rick, who desired to keep his past to himself, undoubtedly feared those phones. Nobody's camera feature had been in use when the accident occurred, but they were all being pulled out now.
Grant got quickly to his feet. Jack and Marlow, two of the workers, were the first to reach him.
"Get Ricky out of here," Grant said "keep those cameras off him,"
Grant didn't know why Rick feared to have his past known, but he could respect it. Besides, he owed the kid for saving his life. Jack and Marlow turned to obey, but Rick was already gone, vanished in the chaos. Grant wondered if the kid would be back.
He guessed probably not.
With countless channels reporting news 24/7, the story of a heroic boy was bound to make it on television. Though no one had managed to film it, there were several eye witnesses, and by evening there had been a dramatic reenactment filmed for news purposes. And one witness had managed to get a shot of the boy kneeling in the mud after the fact. It was blurry enough that it could have been a picture of Bigfoot or a UFO, but the news ran it anyway.
News crews swarmed the area and attempted to interview the construction workers, most of whom had nothing to say, or at least nothing about the boy. The best they could get was from a man named Dennison, who revealed that the boy had been working with them for about a week.
The foreman, Grant Hauser, said the boy didn't want to be on television and his private affairs were his own. Hauser insisted that he'd hired the boy in the same manner as any of his other employees and, so far as he was concerned, the boy (who went unnamed) had as much right to privacy as any citizen.
The story quickly died for lack of cooperation on the part of its subject and lack of film evidence. Some bloggers added it to their websites, especially the handful who had also been witness to the event. As with most things that spread through the internet, much of the details were lost or as least changed to the point of being unrecognizable. In short, the description of the boy became anyone's guess. Some said he was thirteen with red hair, others that he was more like nineteen with black hair. Some even claimed he was a man, just a very small man.
But there were bigger and better stories to report on. Stories such as Nightwing, the vigilante who'd become a celebrity overnight. There were no pictures of him, though several talented artists had drawn pictures from his descriptions. Unfortunately, the accounts were many and varied, only maintaining that he had been dressed entirely in black, including a mask.
The news channels chose to show a picture of a figure standing in silhouette on a rooftop, which was probably the most accurate representation of Nightwing, if not terribly imaginative. Everybody wanted a piece of this Nightwing character, including local police.
The media had great fun stirring up arguments about whether Nightwing was hero or villain, and whether the police's interest in him was justified concern for public safety- or jealously that Nightwing was doing their jobs better than they could.
For the moment, the news about Blüdhaven's new hero was confined to local areas. But chances were good that he would at least make national television at some point. Heroes and villains were favorite topics of the media, highly controversial but always viewer favorites, these masked wonders were perfect for boosting ratings. A new hero would inevitably eventually begin being compared to more famous heroes, as residents of Blüdhaven had heated internet debates with residents of other cities over whose hero was the best, or the worst.
January 7th
"I thought you'd be long gone by now," Grant said, genuinely surprised.
"I said I'd do my job, and that's what I'm here to do," Rick replied, sounding almost irritated that Grant should have so little faith in his word.
"I would have thought, with your love of secrecy and all, you'd want to avoid media attention,"
"I do," Rick said "but what's that got to do with anything?,"
"Well, you saved my life yesterday. Pretty newsworthy if you ask me,"
"That?. Nobody will even remember that by the end of the week," Rick scoffed "there's no camera footage, and none of you was willing to talk, so there's no human interest story. That story's dead and buried already,"
"And you know this because...,"
"I just do, alright?. Now am I working today or what?," The dark indigo eyes were challenging, but also somewhat wary.
Whatever he said, Rick had taken a chance trusting Grant. He must need the money pretty badly to risk showing up here. If he was, as Grant suspected, a kid living on his own, he probably got pretty hungry. And cold, assuming he had no real place to stay.
Grant was tempted to ask Rick about his current accommodations, but wisely decided against it. The boy was already cagey, if pressed he'd probably disappear entirely. Grant didn't especially want that, and so he simply held his tongue.
"Of course we're working today!," Grant exclaimed "this house isn't gonna build itself, now is it?,"
"Could happen," the boy said, shrugging.
Grant almost retorted, then saw the faint shadow of a smile playing at the corners of Rick's mouth. He realized Rick had just made a joke. He'd never heard Rick make a joke, or seen him smile.
Come to that, though the bruises he'd had on joining the crew had mostly faded, he seemed to have a new set almost every day. He tried to keep them covered, and it was generally pretty easy with the cold weather keeping everyone in heavy winter gear. But there was one above his right eye that Grant knew hadn't been there yesterday. It also now occurred to him that Rick tended to favor his left shoulder, barely using that arm at all unless it was unavoidable.
Still, Grant made no comment. The kid's business was his own. That was the agreement they'd made when Rick had come to work for him, and Rick had certainly held up his end of the bargain. Who was Grant to break their deal?. Besides, he figured that, maybe, given enough time, the boy might open up and talk to him.
Little did he know that this boy was the kind who took his secrets to the grave. This was no mere boy at all, but Nightwing without his mask who was, in turn, Robin reincarnated.