Post by Drake on Sept 2, 2014 20:57:48 GMT -5
#1: New Knight Rising Part 1
The Forgotten Clue
Blüdhaven, New Jersey
September 2014
What’s worse than chasing a werepig in record-breaking 90 degree weather? Chasing three werepigs, while wearing a full body Kevlar-spandex suit with a cape…in record-breaking 90 degree weather.
Yay, superheroics.
Tim Drake found himself regretting his unusual passion as he leaped from one building to the next, just a few feet behind his uncanny enemies. They were Changelings. Kind of lame Changelings, as a matter of fact. Most fought back, but these 200 pound sacks of fat and fear ran off as soon he showed up to stop their jewelry heist. Tim did have to give them some credit. They sure could run and jump for a couple of swine.
Tim really could’ve used Nightwing right about now. His mentor would have apprehended the Changelings before they even made it onto the roofs. ‘Course Dick was busy with other important matters. Something about Bruce Wayne and Gotham. Tim couldn’t really worry about that now, however. He was too busy chasing flying pigs.
Flying pigs? Oh no. Tim’s eyes weren’t deceiving him. The Changelings had leapt off a roof and caught onto the feet of three giant eagles…more Changelings. Son of a—
“Nahnee nahnee booboo!” one of the pigs stuck his tongue out at Tim. They were not getting away. Not on his first patrol without Nightwing. He had one chance to stop them, to stay on the chase…
Tim leaped through the air…
…And fell hopelessly to the ground, completely missing the Changelings.
He reached down to use his grappling hook, but lost it as he fell. Shit! Shit shit shit—Tim came crashing through the roof of a building four stories below where he’d jumped. Luckily, his suit took the brunt of the damage. He might’ve sprained an ankle, but otherwise he was fine.
Tim stood up, shrugging off the pain. It was a minor sprain. Now, where was he? Looking around, Tim couldn’t tell. His lenses had adjusted to the darkness but what he saw…well, it was just plain weird.
Tim had crashed into a wide, open room filled with all of the weirdest sorts of objects you could think of. Boxing gloves, a giant rubber duck, a vial of…well, Tim couldn’t tell. Stationed on the eastern wall were glass cases full of costumes. The teen recognized a few of them—Bat-Girl, Wildcat, a few other ‘Haven vigilantes. Lastly, in the center of it all was the largest set of computer monitors Tim had ever seen. He imagined the NSA’s headquarters looked something like this, only without the, well…superhero trophy collection.
Which begged the question—which superhero?
Tim wasn’t stupid. He knew a secret base when he saw one. Sure, it had clearly been abandoned for a while. Its presumed defenses were off, the roof was worn, and the room was covered in cobwebs, but there was no denying the previous owner of the base was a bit eccentric. Tim would have actually assumed it of a supervillain, but the costumes said otherwise.
So, again, which superhero had used this as a secret base? Tim knew where to check.
The computers. Comically large and incredibly capable of causing Tim to nerdgasm. The teen sidekick couldn’t help but grin widely as he discovered the on button and pressed it. The screen burst to white, and then blue, before settling on black with a thin white underscore firmly flashing in the upper left corner of every monitor. A password. For Tim, easy pickings.
The teen hero flipped open his forearm-held personal computer and attached a cable from his gauntlet to the main computer system connected to the monitors. His holographic screen lit up, exposing a program for Tim to use to hack the console. Again, easy as pie.
Whoever owned the device did know their way around a computer. Their security system made the NSA’s look like a joke. Still, Nightwing’s security was dramatically more sophisticated than theirs, and Tim had hacked his mentor’s in just a couple of weeks of avid, minute-or-two hacks.
So, it only took Tim less than a minute to get access to the system, leaving him wondering just what the password was. What dark secrets would this hidden code reveal? What could be gleamed from the deepest recesses of the hero’s mind upon learning their password?
Brownhaven01. That was it. A color, and then possibly the dumbest combination of slang and numbers ever. Tim was not impressed. Still, he was in. The real fun started now.
Before Tim could even input a command or open a page, the screen flashed to the face of a blonde man dressed in a red hooded outfit. His eyebrows were raised unnaturally as if he’d taken ten too many botox injections, and his frown gave the impression he wasn’t quite sure how to be truly unhappy. Despite this, it was apparent the man was deathly afraid. Without a second to lose, Tim sat back in the half-broken chair near the computer and watched.
“Stephanie,” the man’s voice was neither high pitched nor low, settling somewhere in the middle, “If you’re seeing this, it probably means I’m dead. At the very least, I’ve left town. More than likely, either of these options will be permanent. I know the last few months have been tough for you. I failed you, and failed…failed…” The man’s voice droned off, as he stared away from the camera sadly.
“It was always my intention to leave town after what people are now declaring the Valentine’s Day Blockbuster. Blüdhaven no longer needed me. But, it became a necessity after…after someone came and visited me. You won’t know him. Only two people do. Me and…Thomas Elliot. By this point, you’ll know Thomas better as the Red Hood, Jason’s…well, you know.”
“The man who visited me…he’s…I can’t say more. I have to leave. I…oh God, no!” The hooded man backed away from the camera, afraid. He held his hands up defensively. “Computer shut down! NOW!” The video ended, leaving Tim in shock. Who was the hooded man? Who was Stephanie? And…the Red Hood was Thomas freaking Elliot! The mayor of the Haven! What the hell was wrong with this city??
Tim leaned back in the chair, causing it to creak. The points these videos posed, if they were true…’Haven was in worse trouble than Tim thought. The Red Hoods, the Changelings, and the gangs were bad enough, but…now this??
Tim was shocked back into reality when the computer monitors flashed to a variety of different pages, each one labeled something different. One in particular drew Tim’s attention, simply because of the absurdity of the title.
“We Know Stuff…” Tim read aloud, before clicking the link, revealing even more files and a brief subheader, “Brought to you by the infamous info-broker Cluemaster.”
Cluemaster. That must be the hooded man. Tim read on.
The Outlaws. Redbird…Tim clicked that link, receiving two separate files. He skimmed them quickly. Kate Kane and Jason Todd appeared to be the two previous Redbirds. Interesting. Jason Todd matched the name mentioned in the video, someone related to the mayor of the Haven (who was possibly the Red Hood). In addition to that, it appeared as if Kate had gone on to be Bat-Girl, and then Batwoman, and Jason had become Red X before he…oh.
Jason Todd was dead. He was the vigilante who sacrificed himself during the Blockbuster event. That was…wow. When Tim picked the mantle of Redbird, he’d done it to honor the handful of vigilantes who had gone by that moniker in the past. He just hadn’t realized exactly what he would be honoring. One was probably the second most famous vigilante from ‘Haven behind only the Red Hood (the original of course, not the most recent thief incarnation), and the other had sacrificed himself for the city. Wow.
Way to get in over your head, Tim, the boy thought.
Tim clicked out of the file. He needed a break from all of that. He could use something a little more…criminal.
There. The Desmonds. Version 2, he guessed from the labeling. Nightwing and he had been hitting the Desmond gang for months, but hadn’t been able to put more than a small dent in their operations. They had no intel on them. It made it hard to really damage the Desmonds’ enterprise. This could be the break Tim had been looking for.
So…what did Cluemaster know? Enough, apparently, because he had down all of the facilities used by the Desmond family as of…well, when had this last been updated? 2012? Nearly two years ago? Maybe it wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was enough. This could still be what Tim needed. Nightwing would be pleased when he got back from Gotham…whenever that was.
Tim shrugged the thought away. Dick would come back sooner rather than later…right? Couldn’t worry about that now. He had work to do.
Man, this was gonna be fun!
There’s a saying. What goes around comes around. Harper had always treasured that saying. She’d always been able to take her father’s beatings because she knew in the end that he would get what was coming to him. So, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her when he was finally put into the ground, and certainly she shouldn’t have been mad about it; not with the hell that man had put her and her younger brother, Cullen, through.
But here she was, exiting a bus into Blüdhaven with Cullen, abandoning her ‘job,’ her crippled mentor, and her home city of Detroit. Still, Harper couldn’t bring herself to care. She had to prove a point. Cameron couldn’t control her. He couldn’t when she first signed on to be his protégé and he couldn’t now, two years later, as she made her first step into what the locals called ‘Haven.
Harper alternated between clenching her fist and relaxing as she played with the straps of her backpack. Keep your cool, Harper thought.
“You sure about this, Harp?” Cullen asked, following Harper out of the bus and into ‘Haven.
“Absolutely,” Harper replied.
“I mean, Blüdhaven, though? Some people say it’s worse than Gotham.” The fifteen-year-old glanced around nervously.
“We know Jock came here,” Harper said, “That’s reason enough for me.”
Cullen looked at his sister worriedly, “Listen, Harp, this whole quest you’re going on…I…I probably liked Dad more than you did, and you didn’t hear me demanding we catch his killer. I get you’re upset but—“
Harper swung around, anger bubbling to the surface, “This isn’t about Dad, Cullen!” Her brother recoiled, years of beatings rising again in his mind. Harper paused, recognizing her actions, and put a hand on Cullen’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I—I just…I have to prove something to Batwing. He…” Harper sighed, and turned back to the road, “I’m done playing by his rules. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Criminals have to pay. Jock just finally made me realize that.”
“Whatever you say, Harp,” Cullen agreed, “All I was saying is…’Haven? Of all places? It’s a craphole, especially after the Blockbuster.”
Harper ignored her brother as she glanced down at her phone, following a digital map to the nearest motel. She turned left into an alley, Cullen walking right behind her.
The boy finished, “I heard more than one in five people get mugged daily.”
“You know 93% of statistics use made up information.” The source of the voice was a tall, Caucasian boy with glasses, who stepped out from behind a trashcan. He held a crowbar in his hand lazily.
Harper cursed under her breath. A mugging, on day one in ‘Haven. Really??
“You have one chance to leave us alone before I beat the living snot out of you,” Harper muttered. She could hear Cullen gasp as he turned around, coming face to face with three more boys, all armed with blunt weapons.
“I think my friends here would have something different to say about that.” The first mugger grinned wickedly.
“I swear to God…” Harper began.
The mugger stepped forward and reached up to stroke Harper’s hair, which, truthfully was hard to do considering it was a mohawk. “Now, if you really don’t wanna pay up, I figure a pretty thing like you can find another way to…”
BLAM!
Before Harper could act, the mugger fell to the ground, a bullethole lodged firmly in his forehead. She swiveled around. Three people—two men and one woman—dressed in red hoodies and/or a red ski mask stood at the edge of the alley. One was armed with a smoking pistol.
“Red Hoods, get ‘em,” the gun-toting vigilante said. Her compatriots got to work. Each armed with a knife, they gutted two of the remaining muggers. Cullen reached back for his sister’s hand. She took it, smiling.
The last would-be mugger dropped his weapon and got down onto his knees. Harper could hear the sobs echoing over the alleyway.
“Please, don’t kill me! I swear—they—they just made me—“
The mugger didn’t have a chance to say more as he fell back, dead. The armed hoodie-wearing vigilante stared down at the dead body with a blank expression.
“Let the punishment fit the crime,” she stated.
The two others repeated, “Let the punishment fit the crime.”
Without another word, they jogged off. Harper ran after them, only to see them disappear down the street. She turned back to her brother excitedly.
“Did you see that? They—they just…”
Cullen threw up, silencing his sister. She ran over to his side and gently put a hand on his back.
“You ok?” Harper asked. Cullen’s response was to throw up again. She could faintly see his lunch in the sludge on the ground.
“Harp…those guys,” Cullen wiped some vomit off of his mouth with his sleeve.
“Hey, quiet now,” Harper wrapped an arm around Cullen and led him away, “Let’s get you a nice, hot shower. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like a nice, hot shower,” Cullen quipped.
Harper laughed, “Yeah, that it does.”
A year and a half. That’s how long it had been since Richard Dragon had left Blüdhaven. That was the longest he had ever been away from the city since he’d first arrived all those years ago.
Richard stared off at the sunrise from a window on the edge of an airplane terminal. A tall, blonde girl, clearly of mixed heritage—namely Irish, Native American and Chinese—reached out and tapped Richard on the shoulder. He turned around.
“Hey, can we get going? I haven’t eaten since we were in Abu Dhabi, and I’m kind of craving a taco,” the girl asked.
Richard smiled, “Of course, Artemis. What wouldn’t a father do for his daughter?”
“It’s a taco,” Artemis pointed out, “I’m not asking you to die for me.”
“Not yet,” Richard whispered, following his daughter to the baggage claim, “not yet.”
Puberty sucked, right? Everyone from his mother to his US History teacher had told Gar Logan that. Raging hormones, pimples, school, and more raging hormones. A combination that made even the fiercest warrior afraid. OK, maybe not the fiercest warrior like, say, Chuck Norris, but someone like…Jackie Chan, maybe? Gar shuddered. Puberty sucked. That was putting it mildly.
Then again, most people didn’t grow a tail overnight or gain green skin from puberty. That’s what this was, right? Puberty? How else could you explain the horrible image that looked back at Gar as he stared into the mirror. No, this wasn’t some sort of weird, self-conscious metaphor. In fact, Gar had a surprising amount of confidence for a fourteen-year-old. Truth was, when Gar looked into the mirror, he literally saw a monster.
He’d changed overnight.
Now, all the boy could see was a beast.