Post by jordan on Dec 1, 2013 14:10:38 GMT -5
Ultimate Batman Issue #2
The Mysterious Case of the Nightwing and the Coward
Chapter II
A Face Underneath
By Jordan
*
Bruce Wayne, Age 18
The only thing that I ever see anymore is darkness. I wake up in the middle of the day, open my curtains and the ever-present glow of darkness blinds me; it sends me screaming and writhing on the ground, my muscles contracting in pain and my blood boiling; my screams are loud and long and every time this happens I fear.
A shroud falls over me and I hear something loud and vacant--the beating of wings, the scream in sonic, everything hurts and everything scratches against my senses. Tears flood out of my eyes and I can't help but to call out to my mother and my father. Oh, it's been such a long time since they held me in their arms. I can hear my father saying "You know why they attacked you, don't you? They're afraid of you. Everything fears what it does not understand. And there is always something we don't understand. And that means that everything feels fear. Even the scary stuff feels fear." My screams stop and they turn into the big tears, the plump tears that make you afraid you'll run out of water.
The shroud lifts and my tears subside. I lay naked on the floor, staring up into the eyes of the only man who cares for me anymore. "Alfred."
"Yes, Master Bruce, it seems to be getting worse by the day, doesn't it?" I stand and make myself tall and proud, even though I know that Alfred can see through my facade.
"What time does my flight leave, Alfred?" He is old, but not weak. He stands with diligence and passion. He has been my guardian nigh on ten years.
"Sir, I must ask you to reconsider. This is not an appropriate course of--"
"Alfred, what time does my flight leave?" I see the annoyance in his eyes. No matter that he has raised me and that I love him like a father, he is still my servant, and he is still under my employ. We face off for just a moment--but it is a staggering, long moment, filled with remorse.
"In four hours, sir. Will you want me to pack you a lunch for the plane?" The sarcasm in his voice stings. I know he doesn't want me to do this, but I have to.
"Alfred, you know me better than anyone--you know I have to do this."
"No, Master Bruce, you do not have to do this. You can go about your life, inherit the fortune in three months and make Gotham a better place."
"Don't you see Alfred, that's what I'm trying to do! I'm going to make Gotham a better place the only way that Gotham will understand--through fear!" Alfred takes a step towards me, getting in my face.
"No, Master Bruce! Your parents made this city a better place and then the Maroni's made it worse--they killed your parents ad instilled fear in Gotham once more! Do you want to use the same weapon that killed your parents against your parents' killers? Is that what you think they'd want?" I look away from Alfred. His eyes hold disappointment and anger. The only man I care about and I've let him down.
"Could you make it a flank steak sandwich, Alfred? One for the ride, right?" He sighs, shakes his head, turns and leaves. I must make the world a better place.
*
Batman, Now
I stand in a field of debris, death and destruction. Everything burning, every smoldering. All my life I've been surrounded by death--I've seen it, I've felt the blood that splashes against the concrete and I've seen lives taken by vile hands. I've seen good men turn to evil out of anger and jealousy. I've heard the screams of children as the are killed by their father in a drunken frenzy and the screams of mothers as their children are murdered in front of their eyes. But I've never been able to stand the smell. It's always pulled at my stomach. It hurts to smell the dead bodies around me.
A wall of death and darkness surrounds me and I work hard to hold back my tears. If only I wear quicker, faster, smarter... "NO!" I let out a howl that grabs the attention of everyone. They just stare at me, blankly. My anger bubbles at the heart of everything I am. My strides are long and strong, carrying me over to one of the circus performers. I grab them by the collar of their shirt, my anger is slowly getting the better of me. "Who did this?!" My shouts echo and the cops take notice.
"I-I don't--"
"Liar! Who did this?!" I see the fear in his eyes. Tears fall down in big bulges and its all my fault. Just for a moment, my mind flashes back to those grey times after...after it happened, after Chill murdered by parents in the street. My tears were bigger.
"I swear!" And that's when it happens--I see the cops pull the bodies from the wreckage. Two bodies, both middle aged, one woman one man. Their faces are brutalized and their bodies are cut, but not burned. Whoever did this killed them first. It had to be Nightwing.
But why would Nightwing have done this? What would've driven Nightwing to kidnap Richard Grayson, murder these two and burn down the circus? Nightwing is searching for the head of the Maroni, but what does the circus have to do with anything?
"Alfred, what could possibly connect Haly's to the Maroni Head? Or the gang as a whole?"
"I'll search, sir."
"Good. I'll be late tonight, save me some dinner, please."
"Of course, sir, steak or duck?"
"Steak."
*
Bruce Wayne, the Day After the Circus Fire; A Meeting With Gordon
I stand once more in the shadows, darkness covering my every move. The signal turns off and I stand face-to-face with Jim Gordon once more. He can't see me, but I'm positive he knows where I am. "Jim, I need you to get your men to the corner of Maddison and Marbury as soon as possible." My voice comes across with a hint of fear and concern, I'm sure of it--but it doesn't seem like he noticed it. His eyes widen. Usually, I come to him for information, not to give information.
"Is it a lead on the Nightwing case, Batman?" He never looks skeptical of the information I give to him anymore--not like he used to. Sometimes being a Bat-God works to my advantage.
"I've discovered the connection between Nightwing and Dick Grayson."
"What is it, Batman?"
"Some other time, Gordon. Get your men to the corner of Maddison and Marbury, and wait for my signal."
"Of course." He turns away and before he can say another word, I've disappeared.
*
That Night; A Meeting With Haly
"My desk was my father's desk and, before him, my grandfather's desk and, before him, my great grandfather's desk. Alan Wayne started the family business. I call it my lucky desk." My eyes pierce into Haly's eyes. He seems nervous. He's fidgeting. Donald stands still, unnerved, unmoving. They've come to me for help, but I'm not sure they want they help I intend to give them.
"Bruce, that doesn't answer are question. If this fundraiser doesn't happen tonight, Haly's is done for." Donald's voice is sharp and powerful. I since that he is Haly's enforcer as of late in the business world.
"Just listen to me, Donald." Donald sighs and then takes a seat in one of the large, plush chairs provided towards guests of mine's comfort.
"This is my lucky desk. That is why, late last night, when my friends were attacked and their business burned down, I called in the police commissioner, another good friend of mine, and we looked over all of the data that I had compiled throughout the years, and we cross-referenced it with the data that the Commissioner had gathered over the past years--on the Maroni Head." Haly shifts from foot to foot. Nervous. He wants the money for his circus, and he wants out of Gotham. Donald remains seated, still and silent like a stone-cold-killer. "And when we looked at all of that information, we discovered something interesting."
"Is there a point to this, Bruce? We came to you as friends in need, not children for story-time!" His anger is boiling, any little ting could set him over the top.
"Yes, Donald, there is a point. Because Haly's Circus went to Rome last month. You stayed there for a month, just like every single time you visit somewhere, you were there for a month. And for that month, gang activity rose dramatically. Gang wars, drive-by shootings, car bombs and looting. All while you were there. And then I looked at your last stop in Gotham, where the same thing happened. Your circus was here during the rise of the Bat. And then someone pegged Haly's for the Maroni head, your parents were shot, and you left town. And every single town you were in for the next five years had the same increase in gang violence. And you came back to Gotham, were it is rumored that the head of the Maroni Family works in your circus. And I've found out who." Donald stands, now in a blind rage.
"Bruce, stop there! You dare call us in during our darkest hour to tell us that there is a traitor amongst us?! Give me your proof or our friendship and partnership is over!" He slams his fists on my lucky desk and my eyes glint with humor.
"It's you, Donald, you are the Head of the Maroni Family. Or should I call you Ignavissimo?" His eyes fill with bewilderment. I caught him, and he knows it. Haly's eyes instantly fill with fear.
"How could you, Donald! I took you when your parents died and raised you as my own son! How could you betray us like this?!" Donald swiftly turns around to face Haly, who trembles over a foot below him.
"I am not the Maroni Head, you idiot, it's someone else!"
"No, it isn't, Donald. I usually don't like working with their kind, but I've contacted both Batman and Nightwing. They're on their way to get you now." They should run, right out of the building and then my...assistant should ready the signal. I hope they don't call my bluff. Donald swings around once more, facing me. His yes are full of a mixture fear and misery.
"My parents were KILLED for the head of the Maroni. How could I be him?!"
"It has to be someone high up in the Circus, someone who can influence the Circus's movements and then alert the local operatives when the Circus will arrive. That leaves only you two. My theory is that, after the death of your parents, you drove yourself insane attempting to figure out who exactly killed them. You infiltrated the Family and befriended the head, the janitor that died not two years ago, Larossi Benolli. He named you the new Family Head, where you could bring the organization down on itself. But then you got a taste of the power and, instead of bring down the family, turned into the same monster that caused the death of your parents. And now, Nightwing will get you." He give sup the anger and I see a tear fall from his face.
"We've known each other for so long, Bruce. I can't believe you'd think I'd turn into the monsters that killed my parents." Donald reaches behind him. I know to well what comes next. From its hidden holster, Donald pulls a gun and points it directly at me. "You never called Nightwing cause you know I'm not the Head. You bluffed us, you tried to get under our skin. I don't know when you figured it out Bruce, but I can't have you get in the way of my search."
"Search for what, Donald? A search for justice? Cause this isn't justice. Work with the cops, not against them. The law is on your side if you let it be!" The irony.
"Bruce, tis isn't a search for justice, it's a search for vengeance! Something you never had the balls to do! You let those damned cops do your work for you! Joe Chill is behind bars because you didn't have the balls to kill him! I'm going to find the Head and I'm going to get revenge!" And it's only now, starring down the barrel of the gun, listening to Donald's rant of revenge, that I realize who he truly is. He didn't call my bluff not because he believed it, but because he knew it wasn't true. As the tears drip down his face and his finger trembles on the trigger, the word just slips through the cracks of my teeth.
"Nightwing."
Next time...who is the Head of the Maroni?! And Donald is NIGHTWING?!
The Mysterious Case of the Nightwing and the Coward
Chapter II
A Face Underneath
By Jordan
*
Bruce Wayne, Age 18
The only thing that I ever see anymore is darkness. I wake up in the middle of the day, open my curtains and the ever-present glow of darkness blinds me; it sends me screaming and writhing on the ground, my muscles contracting in pain and my blood boiling; my screams are loud and long and every time this happens I fear.
A shroud falls over me and I hear something loud and vacant--the beating of wings, the scream in sonic, everything hurts and everything scratches against my senses. Tears flood out of my eyes and I can't help but to call out to my mother and my father. Oh, it's been such a long time since they held me in their arms. I can hear my father saying "You know why they attacked you, don't you? They're afraid of you. Everything fears what it does not understand. And there is always something we don't understand. And that means that everything feels fear. Even the scary stuff feels fear." My screams stop and they turn into the big tears, the plump tears that make you afraid you'll run out of water.
The shroud lifts and my tears subside. I lay naked on the floor, staring up into the eyes of the only man who cares for me anymore. "Alfred."
"Yes, Master Bruce, it seems to be getting worse by the day, doesn't it?" I stand and make myself tall and proud, even though I know that Alfred can see through my facade.
"What time does my flight leave, Alfred?" He is old, but not weak. He stands with diligence and passion. He has been my guardian nigh on ten years.
"Sir, I must ask you to reconsider. This is not an appropriate course of--"
"Alfred, what time does my flight leave?" I see the annoyance in his eyes. No matter that he has raised me and that I love him like a father, he is still my servant, and he is still under my employ. We face off for just a moment--but it is a staggering, long moment, filled with remorse.
"In four hours, sir. Will you want me to pack you a lunch for the plane?" The sarcasm in his voice stings. I know he doesn't want me to do this, but I have to.
"Alfred, you know me better than anyone--you know I have to do this."
"No, Master Bruce, you do not have to do this. You can go about your life, inherit the fortune in three months and make Gotham a better place."
"Don't you see Alfred, that's what I'm trying to do! I'm going to make Gotham a better place the only way that Gotham will understand--through fear!" Alfred takes a step towards me, getting in my face.
"No, Master Bruce! Your parents made this city a better place and then the Maroni's made it worse--they killed your parents ad instilled fear in Gotham once more! Do you want to use the same weapon that killed your parents against your parents' killers? Is that what you think they'd want?" I look away from Alfred. His eyes hold disappointment and anger. The only man I care about and I've let him down.
"Could you make it a flank steak sandwich, Alfred? One for the ride, right?" He sighs, shakes his head, turns and leaves. I must make the world a better place.
*
Batman, Now
I stand in a field of debris, death and destruction. Everything burning, every smoldering. All my life I've been surrounded by death--I've seen it, I've felt the blood that splashes against the concrete and I've seen lives taken by vile hands. I've seen good men turn to evil out of anger and jealousy. I've heard the screams of children as the are killed by their father in a drunken frenzy and the screams of mothers as their children are murdered in front of their eyes. But I've never been able to stand the smell. It's always pulled at my stomach. It hurts to smell the dead bodies around me.
A wall of death and darkness surrounds me and I work hard to hold back my tears. If only I wear quicker, faster, smarter... "NO!" I let out a howl that grabs the attention of everyone. They just stare at me, blankly. My anger bubbles at the heart of everything I am. My strides are long and strong, carrying me over to one of the circus performers. I grab them by the collar of their shirt, my anger is slowly getting the better of me. "Who did this?!" My shouts echo and the cops take notice.
"I-I don't--"
"Liar! Who did this?!" I see the fear in his eyes. Tears fall down in big bulges and its all my fault. Just for a moment, my mind flashes back to those grey times after...after it happened, after Chill murdered by parents in the street. My tears were bigger.
"I swear!" And that's when it happens--I see the cops pull the bodies from the wreckage. Two bodies, both middle aged, one woman one man. Their faces are brutalized and their bodies are cut, but not burned. Whoever did this killed them first. It had to be Nightwing.
But why would Nightwing have done this? What would've driven Nightwing to kidnap Richard Grayson, murder these two and burn down the circus? Nightwing is searching for the head of the Maroni, but what does the circus have to do with anything?
"Alfred, what could possibly connect Haly's to the Maroni Head? Or the gang as a whole?"
"I'll search, sir."
"Good. I'll be late tonight, save me some dinner, please."
"Of course, sir, steak or duck?"
"Steak."
*
Bruce Wayne, the Day After the Circus Fire; A Meeting With Gordon
I stand once more in the shadows, darkness covering my every move. The signal turns off and I stand face-to-face with Jim Gordon once more. He can't see me, but I'm positive he knows where I am. "Jim, I need you to get your men to the corner of Maddison and Marbury as soon as possible." My voice comes across with a hint of fear and concern, I'm sure of it--but it doesn't seem like he noticed it. His eyes widen. Usually, I come to him for information, not to give information.
"Is it a lead on the Nightwing case, Batman?" He never looks skeptical of the information I give to him anymore--not like he used to. Sometimes being a Bat-God works to my advantage.
"I've discovered the connection between Nightwing and Dick Grayson."
"What is it, Batman?"
"Some other time, Gordon. Get your men to the corner of Maddison and Marbury, and wait for my signal."
"Of course." He turns away and before he can say another word, I've disappeared.
*
That Night; A Meeting With Haly
"My desk was my father's desk and, before him, my grandfather's desk and, before him, my great grandfather's desk. Alan Wayne started the family business. I call it my lucky desk." My eyes pierce into Haly's eyes. He seems nervous. He's fidgeting. Donald stands still, unnerved, unmoving. They've come to me for help, but I'm not sure they want they help I intend to give them.
"Bruce, that doesn't answer are question. If this fundraiser doesn't happen tonight, Haly's is done for." Donald's voice is sharp and powerful. I since that he is Haly's enforcer as of late in the business world.
"Just listen to me, Donald." Donald sighs and then takes a seat in one of the large, plush chairs provided towards guests of mine's comfort.
"This is my lucky desk. That is why, late last night, when my friends were attacked and their business burned down, I called in the police commissioner, another good friend of mine, and we looked over all of the data that I had compiled throughout the years, and we cross-referenced it with the data that the Commissioner had gathered over the past years--on the Maroni Head." Haly shifts from foot to foot. Nervous. He wants the money for his circus, and he wants out of Gotham. Donald remains seated, still and silent like a stone-cold-killer. "And when we looked at all of that information, we discovered something interesting."
"Is there a point to this, Bruce? We came to you as friends in need, not children for story-time!" His anger is boiling, any little ting could set him over the top.
"Yes, Donald, there is a point. Because Haly's Circus went to Rome last month. You stayed there for a month, just like every single time you visit somewhere, you were there for a month. And for that month, gang activity rose dramatically. Gang wars, drive-by shootings, car bombs and looting. All while you were there. And then I looked at your last stop in Gotham, where the same thing happened. Your circus was here during the rise of the Bat. And then someone pegged Haly's for the Maroni head, your parents were shot, and you left town. And every single town you were in for the next five years had the same increase in gang violence. And you came back to Gotham, were it is rumored that the head of the Maroni Family works in your circus. And I've found out who." Donald stands, now in a blind rage.
"Bruce, stop there! You dare call us in during our darkest hour to tell us that there is a traitor amongst us?! Give me your proof or our friendship and partnership is over!" He slams his fists on my lucky desk and my eyes glint with humor.
"It's you, Donald, you are the Head of the Maroni Family. Or should I call you Ignavissimo?" His eyes fill with bewilderment. I caught him, and he knows it. Haly's eyes instantly fill with fear.
"How could you, Donald! I took you when your parents died and raised you as my own son! How could you betray us like this?!" Donald swiftly turns around to face Haly, who trembles over a foot below him.
"I am not the Maroni Head, you idiot, it's someone else!"
"No, it isn't, Donald. I usually don't like working with their kind, but I've contacted both Batman and Nightwing. They're on their way to get you now." They should run, right out of the building and then my...assistant should ready the signal. I hope they don't call my bluff. Donald swings around once more, facing me. His yes are full of a mixture fear and misery.
"My parents were KILLED for the head of the Maroni. How could I be him?!"
"It has to be someone high up in the Circus, someone who can influence the Circus's movements and then alert the local operatives when the Circus will arrive. That leaves only you two. My theory is that, after the death of your parents, you drove yourself insane attempting to figure out who exactly killed them. You infiltrated the Family and befriended the head, the janitor that died not two years ago, Larossi Benolli. He named you the new Family Head, where you could bring the organization down on itself. But then you got a taste of the power and, instead of bring down the family, turned into the same monster that caused the death of your parents. And now, Nightwing will get you." He give sup the anger and I see a tear fall from his face.
"We've known each other for so long, Bruce. I can't believe you'd think I'd turn into the monsters that killed my parents." Donald reaches behind him. I know to well what comes next. From its hidden holster, Donald pulls a gun and points it directly at me. "You never called Nightwing cause you know I'm not the Head. You bluffed us, you tried to get under our skin. I don't know when you figured it out Bruce, but I can't have you get in the way of my search."
"Search for what, Donald? A search for justice? Cause this isn't justice. Work with the cops, not against them. The law is on your side if you let it be!" The irony.
"Bruce, tis isn't a search for justice, it's a search for vengeance! Something you never had the balls to do! You let those damned cops do your work for you! Joe Chill is behind bars because you didn't have the balls to kill him! I'm going to find the Head and I'm going to get revenge!" And it's only now, starring down the barrel of the gun, listening to Donald's rant of revenge, that I realize who he truly is. He didn't call my bluff not because he believed it, but because he knew it wasn't true. As the tears drip down his face and his finger trembles on the trigger, the word just slips through the cracks of my teeth.
"Nightwing."
Next time...who is the Head of the Maroni?! And Donald is NIGHTWING?!