My name is Dick Grayson. Ever since I was young, I made a vow to uphold justice, and lived under the shadow of a dark knight. But the dark knight has his city, and I needed my own. It was time I moved out of the dark knight's shadow, and step up. This is my city. My story. And now, it's time for me to rise.
-The Glades, Present Day-
On the main street of the Glades, two factions had gathered. Brickwell and his armed forces looked menacing on one end- Arsenal, Black Canary, and the residents of the Glades stood defiant on the other. Upon Brickwell's urging, his armed men rushed at the residents, and an all-out brawl ensued.
"Dumbasses," commented Dick into his comlink. He was suited up as Nightwing, and was on a hair trigger.
"What do you mean?" Barbara asked from the other end of the line.
"Brick's men have semi-auto rifles. You'd think they'd use them but noooo… Actually, it reminds me of this one movie I saw a few years ago. It was a force of cops going up against a massive mercenary legion. The legion also had semi-autos, and they used them for all of five seconds before turning it into an all-out brawl. Honestly, I couldn't understand what the leaders of the legion and the cops were saying- it sounded like they had laryngitis and were gargling marbles."
"Are you gonna jump in?"
"It looks like they have this for now, though if it escalates-"
"It's ending right now," a new voice said from behind Nightwing. Turning around quickly, Nightwing prepared for an attack, only to find a familiar man in a green hood.
"Back from the dead!" Nightwing greeted the Arrow.
"Just about," he replied.
"Oliver's back?" Barbara interjected.
"Yup, which means it's time for me to go," Nightwing responded. "Starling's got its hero back, and I need to return to Bludhaven."
As the Arrow began preparing his bow, he looked at the chaotic scene unfolding before him. On the street, Black Canary was holding someone in her arms, and it seemed like Brick had escaped.
"So much has happened since I left..." he muttered to himself.
"Yeah, but your team held down the fort," Nightwing reassured him.
"What should I tell the City? My sister?"
"Tell the City you won't fail them again. And tell your sister… well, why don't you tell her you were in Bludhaven all this time?" Nightwing suggested.
"That easy?" The Arrow asked, stone-faced.
"You can tell her you were in jail again. It's not like you don't have a record of that, party boy," Nightwing teased.
"Maybe… Anyway, I've got to go." And with that, he let loose an emerald arrow. It flew through the air, past the blood and the sweat, the pain and the bruises, and embedded itself into a body nearby Arsenal. Seeing the arrow, he looked for its source as the man in the green hood descended to quell the scene.
"Cool," Nightwing responded with a smile. He took off, taking the rooftop express to a motorcycle near the outskirts of the glades. Once he had arrived at his motorcycle, he took off for a jet just outside the city limits. "Best part of being a part of the Family- all the toys," Nightwing grinned. Getting on the jet, he set off for home: Bludhaven.
-X-
-Gotham, The Past-
"Argh!" the angry teen grunted. Taking both eskrima sticks in hand, he brought them downwards on the figure, who easily blocked them.
"Control yourself, Dick!" the figure admonished him.
"You say use my rage, right?" Dick challenged. "So I'm gonna use it, and make sure that sonofa-"
Acting swiftly, the figure swept Dick's leg from under him, before taking an eskrima stick and pinning Dick by his neck.
"That anger will get you killed," the figure coldly stated. Getting up, he grabbed a towel from a man watching the duel. "You're not ready."
-X-
-Bludhaven, The Present-
A young woman walked down the street in the Zee Moores, chewing on an ordinary chocolate bar. For once, the neighborhood was quiet, and this unassuming young woman enjoyed her moonlit walk, and the delicious slice of heaven in her hand. When she had finished the chocolate bar, she immediately went to throw the wrapper away. However, finding that there were no trash cans nearby, she simply let it slip from her hand.
"Scum," a voice warned, threateningly. The young woman turned around to find a figure in a green hood, camo cargo pants, combat boots, and fingerless gloves. In his hand was a crowbar with various blood stains already splattered on it.
"W-what are you talking about?" the young woman asked, frightened.
"A hero can't allow your wrongdoing," Tad explained. "I'm going to have to teach you the right way."
"L-let it go!" the young woman pleaded as Tad advanced on her. "It was just a small wrapper! I won't litter again!"
"Too late," Tad grinned sadistically as he raised the crowbar. Knowing that he couldn't be reasoned with, the young woman began to run, but Tad was faster and, with crowbar in hand, brought it down on the young woman.
There was no one around. No one could hear her screams- her pleading, or cries for help. No one would see the tears that fell from her eyes, or the blood that flew out of her mouth. There was no one, save for the villainous litterer, and the heroic teacher.
Brutality.
When he had finished, Tad patted the young woman on the head, as she slowly drifted into unconsciousness. "Now, be good, ok?" he innocently reminded her. Chuckling to himself, he walked away, as the woman, before finding solace in the warm embrace of the unconscious, sobbed.
"I wonder if there are any more evil-doers nearby?" Tad wondered to himself.
-X-
This morning's top news: a brutal death in the Zee Moores. Locals are demanding answers in the death of Hannah Grey, a 20 year old native of the Zee Moores. According to her family, she was a student at Gotham University who was in town to celebrate her mother's birthday. The Bludhaven Police Department has assured the local residents that they are investigating the case- no word yet on any leads.
Dick turned off the TV, equal parts sad and disgusted. Having lost his appetite for his breakfast, he instead moved to his room to change into the clothes he'd need for his day shift at the bar.
I… I could've stopped this, he thought to himself. If only I were here… If only I were on patrol… If only-
An alarm went off on his phone, reminding him of how little time he had left to make it to the bar. Shaking off the news, he finished getting ready and left his apartment for his day job.
-X-
That night, Tad was waiting around for Nightwing to appear. It was the alley where they had first met, and he hoped that if he waited around long enough, his hero would arrive. Tad wanted training- to have the skills to defeat large clumps of thugs like Nightwing had last week. Of course, it wasn't like he was incompetent- his regular dispensation of justice over the past week proved that point clearly. But those were all weaklings, and one on one battles. He craved the power to take on the biggest bullies- he was thirsty for their blood.
"What're you doing here, kid?" a voice asked from above. Tad looked up to find Nightwing descend on the scene.
"I was waiting for you. I figured you'd train me so that I could help you," Tad answered.
"I said I'd let you help me. I never said anything about training," Nightwing replied.
"But can't I best help you by going out and fighting with you?" Tad questioned.
A scene flashed through Nightwing's mind. Bodies strewn about the floor. A man held by the edge of a knife. A choice. "… No. You can help me by giving me information," Nightwing said, resolute.
"Information? Like what?"
"Like for example, who's been responsible for the increase in deaths in the Zee Moores. They've increased dramatically over the past week. I want to know who's behind this. Think you can ask around, find something out?"
"Sure, I can," Tad replied nonchalantly. "But I thought…"
"You thought what?" Nightwing asked.
"I thought you'd train me so that I could be a hero like you."
Nightwing was silent for a few moments, choosing the right words. When he had chosen them, he answered, "Maybe in the future. But not right now. For now, Tad, I need you to get me that information."
"I'm on it!" Tad enthusiastically replied.
"Good. I'll see you around, kid," Nightwing assured him. Just like that first night, he ascended to the sky, leaving Tad on the ground to contemplate.
-X-
Having left the scene, Nightwing took the rooftops to the Zee Moores. Sticking to the shadows offered by the neighborhood's poor lighting, he pulled out a map on his phone. Not only did the map show the entire neighborhood, but it also had various red dots- the locations of the crime scenes where the victim's bodies were found.
We are detectives, son. The words rang in Nightwing's head, and with a steely determination, he set out to investigate the crime scenes.
By now, the BPD have already processed most of the crime scenes, Nightwing thought to himself. That means I'll have to pay them a visit later… then again, maybe Barb will be able to pull off some magic and find out what the police have gathered. Actually…
En route to one of the crime scenes, Nightwing pressed a button near his ear, and his comlink activated, connecting him directly to Barbara Gordon. "Hey Babs," he greeted as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop.
"Hey Dick," she replied.
"Think you could do me a favor?"
"Depends. What is it?"
"Could you hack into the BPD's database and see if you can find anything about the recent deaths in the Zee Moores here?"
"I'm offended you're questioning my ability," she sarcastically replied, teasing Dick. "That's like asking if you could flirt with a woman."
"Are you questioning my game, Barb?" Dick smiled as he asked.
"Are you questioning mine? I'm not called 'Oracle' because of how good I look."
"Could've fooled me- you do look beautiful, Barb."
Though he couldn't see it, Barbara blushed. "Getting off topic, Nightwing. Why do you want me to hack into the BPD's database?"
"Like I said, it's the recent deaths here in the Zee Moores. They've spiked over the past week, and that's worried me. I need to find out what's going on, and if I can find any clues that'll point me in the right direction."
"Fair enough. Want me to call Tim to help you out?"
"Nah, I've got this. Tim's the better detective, but I should be fine on my own. I just need to get some clues."
"Well, I'll contact you when I've got something for you. Good luck, Dick."
"Talk to you later, Barb." Dick pressed on the comlink again as he arrived at the scene of Hannah Grey's death.
I'm a detective. Time to get to work.
-X-
It had been a long night- good thing he had the next day off. After he had finished combing every last nook and cranny of the multiple crime scenes, Nightwing retreated to his apartment to go over the few clues he had found over in his mind. Shortly after he had returned, Barbara had contacted him and related the autopsy reports of the victims- how they died of brutal blunt force trauma, probably caused by something like a crow bar. Hearing the weapon's mention, Dick's mind flashed back to a memory he'd rather forget.
The attacks were all over the Zee Moores, and yet… and yet there's this higher concentration on this street. All the victims were brutally bludgeoned to death with a crowbar, but the severity of their beatings increased over time… There don't seem to be any identifying marks left behind, nor are there any witnesses who will testify…
Aren't any? Or won't testify?
He'd been awake for about a day and a half now- but so what? Dick put on a jacket and left the apartment.
-X-
-Gotham, The Past-
Within a large cave, two figures leapt from pole to pole. Thanks to Dick's acrobatic background, he was able to keep up with the man he was competing against. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he upped the ante and beat the man to the finish line, doing a quadruple flip before landing on his toes.
"Now you're just showing off," the figure smirked, teasing the teen.
"I'm an acrobat- what'd you expect?" Dick bantered back.
"You've been doing well, keeping yourself in check," the figure noted. "You've grown in your abilities as well."
"Does that mean…?"
"Suit up. We're tracking down a lead. Tonight… we might have a way of finding Tony Zucco."
Internally, Dick smiled a devilish grin. "Perfect."
-X-
-The Zee Moores, The Present-
"Thank you so much," Dick said to an old woman. Walking down her front steps, the smile was wiped away from his face as the revelation of the Zee Moore's killer appeared in his mind.
Green hoodie… combat boots… camo cargo shorts… and a crowbar… Details too distinct to be anyone else. I don't know why all these witnesses didn't tell the BPD this information, but with this, I can narrow down my list of suspects. And yet… I don't want to believe it.
-X-
Walking through the front door, Tad put down his hood and placed the crowbar in his back pocket, covering it up with his hoodie. As per usual, he could see that his mother was nowhere to be found, and his father was drunk blind.
"Where the hell have you been, you worthless piece of shit?" Tad's father asked.
"Just around," Tad coldly replied.
Unexpectedly, Tad's father got up and staggered towards Tad. Curious as to what would happen, Tad stood his ground. He waited until his father was standing somewhat straight in front of him.
"Hey Tad," his father slurred.
"What're you doing, Pops-"
A fist flew through the air and, catching Tad off guard, knocked him on the ground.
"DO SOMETHING WITH YOUR LIFE!" his father bellowed, before walking out the door, muttering, "I need more whiskey…"
For a moment, Tad just lay there. Then, he felt the fire rise within him. His father had done enough- it was time that a villain like him learned his lesson. And the hero, Nite-Wing, would be just the one to teach him that lesson.
"He'll know justice…" Tad muttered. A darkness had fallen over his eyes, and he put on his hood before taking out the crowbar behind his back. "The justice… of HELL!" Kicking the door open, Tad rushed out of his apartment to catch up with his father.
-X-
It had taken him only a few moments, but Nightwing was now on the prowl, headed for Tad's home in the Zee Moores. It had taken some digging up, but he finally found some records that confirmed his fears- that the street where the casualties were the highest number was, in fact, his home street. Nightwing prepared himself for the worst, but he still didn't want to believe what was almost certainly fact. He didn't want to believe that the young man who held so much fire in him- the same young man that reminded him of himself all those years ago- was the killer responsible for all those deaths.
Finally he alighted on a rooftop perch where, spying down on the scene, he found two figures. One was a clearly drunken man, staggering down the street in a wife-beater and shorts, while the other one was Tad. In his hand was a crowbar.
He knew he needed to focus on Tad, but his eyes were mesmerized by the crowbar. It looked exactly like… like that crowbar. And suddenly, the ghosts of his past returned.
While Nightwing was pre-occupied with his nightmare, Tad yelled, "You scum!"
Turning around, Tad's father demanded, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Teaching you a lesson. Because I'm the justice that will beat scum like you dead!" Thus saying, he rushed on the intoxicated man, the crowbar raised high. He brought it down on the drunken man, knocking him on the ground, and as he got on top of his father, Tad raised his crowbar high for a deathblow.
The memory faded as quickly as it had come, but it was enough to distract Nightwing from the first blow. Seeing that Tad was about to make a mistake, Nightwing leapt from his rooftop perch, yelling, "Stop!"
As Nightwing's words rang out through the night air, Tad stopped just short of delivering his deathblow as he took a look at his hero. "Nightwing? What're you doing here?"
"I figured out who was the Zee Moore's killer, and I caught him in the act," Nightwing declared. "Now, give yourself up, Tad."
Tad was silent for a few seconds. "Do you know what this man is? He's scum!" grabbing him by the low collar, Tad showed him off to Nightwing, before continuing, "Every DAY of my life, this man has beaten me! He deserves to be punished! I deserve justice!"
"And he'll get it!" Nightwing answered. "But not like this! Please Tad… Don't do it. There's been enough."
Tad raised the crowbar once more. Nightwing prepared a Wing-Ding. A memory superimposed itself on the scene.
-X-
-Gotham, The Past-
Bodies strewn about the floor. A man held by the edge of a knife. A choice.
Dick and his mentor had raided the warehouse- one of Tony Zucco's smuggling operations. They easily took out the armed guards, though Dick did have some trouble. It was his first day out on the field, after all.
When the bullets ceased flying, Dick was on top of one of Zucco's lieutenants. A knife that was nearby was now in his hand, held high in the air, ready to strike.
"Where is Zucco!?" Dick demanded.
"Control yourself…" the figure warned.
"Where is he!?" Dick demanded once more.
"Go fuck yourself," the man spat.
Fire burned within Dick. Wrath coursed through his veins. Blinded by hate, he gripped the knife even tighter.
"Control yourself!" the figure warned again.
"I'll kill you!" Dick swore.
"You don't have the guts," the man laughed.
He couldn't restrain himself any more. He had to do something. He had to strike. He had to-
The knife began to fly down, its edge seeking blood, seeking to bury itself in bone. Before the point could pierce skin, however, Dick's arm was stopped by the figure.
"Control yourself, Dick," the figure calmly commented.
"But I… But I…!" Dick protested.
"You ARE better than him. Don't do this. Don't make this mistake."
The figure let go of his arm, the point of the blade still hovering directly above the lieutenant's neck.
Bodies strewn about the floor. A man held by the edge of a knife. A choice.
-X-
-The Zee Moores, The Present-
"You ARE better than him. Don't do this. Don't make this mistake. Please, Tad," Nightwing pleaded.
Tad was silent as he contemplated this choice. He lowered his arm, as a darkness fell over his eyes. Nightwing let out a sigh of relief.
"You're making the right choice, T-"
"I'm not Tad," the younger man responded. Smiling sadistically, he looked up at Nightwing and replied, "My name is Nite-Wing. And I'm a hero."
Moving quickly, Nite-Wing raised his arm again to swipe at his father. Acting on instinct, Nightwing launched a Wing-Ding. The bird's metallic wing cut through the air, embedding itself into Tad's arm. Though he groaned in pain, he continued his swinging path, and the crowbar landed on his father's temple. Nite-Wing placed as much force as he could behind his swing, breaking skin and fracturing bone.
"No!" Nightwing yelled, rushing at Nite-Wing. He took out his eskrima sticks, but the latter began running away, laughing as he did so.
"I'm a real hero, Nightwing! I'll prove it to you next time!" Nite-Wing vowed. As he took off for the night, Nightwing had to stop to check up on Nite-Wing's father.
"Sir! Are you ok?" Nightwing asked.
Nite-Wing's father groaned as his consciousness flickered. "Did that… little shit… escape…?"
"He escaped," Nightwing confirmed.
"Stop… him…" Nite-Wing's father whispered. And with that, blood began to flow out of his temple, and his consciousness faded.
"No… no… sir, hang on. Hang on!" Nightwing pleaded.
Sirens blazed in the distance. Whether they were police sirens or ambulance sirens, Nightwing couldn't tell. But one thing he knew for sure: he had to leave. Reluctantly, he ascended into the skies, perching himself on a rooftop to watch the conclusion of the scene.
-X-
"Are you ok, Dick?" Barbara asked over his phone. Dick had returned to his apartment, shedding his Nightwing suit and returning to normal clothes- or rather, just some pajama pants. He sat alone in his kitchen, without even a light on. The little moonlight that did enter through his kitchen window illuminated the bottle and glass of bourbon that he had poured for himself, yet from which he hadn't taken a drink yet.
Dick closed his eyes.
-X-
-Gotham, The Past-
Dick cried. It was the first time in a long time that he had cried. Since long before his parents were murdered, Dick didn't have a reason to cry. When his parents were killed, he bottled everything inside, and all other emotions were consumed by the fire of wrath. But now… now he cried. He cried for his parents. He cried for the orphans. He cried for himself.
The figure consoled the young man. He saw too much of himself reflected in the young man- too much. He needed to help this young man- now, he realized, in more than just helping him find justice for his parents.
"It's ok, Dick. It's ok," he said. He simply let Dick cry into him.
"I would've… I would've killed that guy…" Dick sobbed.
"I know."
"How do you do it? How do you resist killing them? How, Mr. Wayne?"
"A lot of restraint. And a lot of practice."
"… Could you teach me that?"
"I will. But not now."
"Why not?"
"Because now isn't the time for training. Now is the time for grieving."
With renewed sobs, Dick cried into his mentor as his mentor consoled the young man. Alone they sat inside the cave- two orphans alone in a world that robbed them of their lives.
-X-
-Dick's Apartment, The Present-
"Dick, are you alright?" Barbara repeated.
Dick took the glass of Bourbon and drank it completely.
"Honestly… I don't know. But I'll have to be."
A/N: Hey everyone! I am INCREDIBLY sorry that I'm late with this episode. I suffered some technical issues on my end, but that's really no excuse. I'll work hard to release them earlier than I am right now, so I truly apologize. I hope you enjoyed this episode- please feel free to leave me some feedback. And now, I'll leave you with this question: which Danielle Panabaker superhero do you like better- Caitlin Snow, or Layla from Sky High (anyone remember that?)
Until next week at hopefully 8/7c, stay awesome, everyone!