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#2
DEC 12 |
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“In Too Deep”
It was morning in Bludhaven and all the coffee in the world wasn't going to prepare Dick Grayson or Barbara Gordon to face the day. After seeing their surprise guest out, the two barely slept a wink. However, it was a new day and a work one at that.
“You sure about this?” Dick yawned, standing before Babs, outside their apartment.
“Think I can't handle myself on the mean streets of Bludhaven?”
“It's not that. You know it's not. Just...”
“Like I'm going to stay here with the Terminator right next door,” They both looked up to the apartment in question -- its curtains drawn.
“Maybe he's genuinely just needing a place to stay and too cheap to get a hotel,” Dick suggested.
Babs stayed silent for a moment. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“You've got your eyes on the apartment?”
Barbara just smiled and patted her laptop. “Besides, a walk will do me good.” She tightened her 'walking' gloves, preparing for a long roll. “After learning about the zoo last night I did a little looking, and did you know Bludhaven has a public library?”
Dick wrinkled his nose, about to reply when Babs cut him off. “Your ride's here.”
With a sputter and a clattering of wheezing bangs, the beat-up car came to a choking halt just before the couple. Harvey Bullock pushed the passenger door open and leaned forward to smile at Barbara. “Lookin' good, Babs!”
“Harv,” Barbara had to smile, “it's good to see you. Congrats on the promotion.”
“Thanks,” the police chief smiled broadly and Dick rolled his eyes, thinking of yesterday. “GRAYSON, get in already! Babs, you have a good day.”
Dick leaned forward to claim a quick kiss from his wife. “Keep on your toes,” he said with a quick glance up to Dr. Fledermaus' window.
“You too,” she returned, glancing toward Harvey, who gave her a coy look. “Something tells me you're going to need it more.”
“I think I can han–”
“GRAYSON!”
“Yes, Chief, right away, Chief.” With a start, Dick climbed in the car and closed the door behind him. Harvey gave one more smiling wave and then with a puff of unhealthy smoke the car took off. Barbara waited long enough to watch the car roll off before she turned to head in the opposite direction, toward the center of town.
It took Harvey six or seven glances to the rearview mirror to ensure he was well out of earshot before he spoke. “All right, listen, ~detective~, you 'n me gotta' lot to talk about, I'm sure. Before all that, there's something you gotta' listen to though.”
Dick had been expecting this ever since ever since he first learned of Bullock's transferring to his city. Harvey had barely tolerated Batman and especially disliked Robin. “You mean what I think about Nightwing? Sure, I worked with him to take down Desmond, but that was me that did the job, not him.”
Harvey snorted. “’Grats to you for that; sure done a number for your rise with the brass. But that ain't what I'm meanin' to talk about. Figure I gotta' deal with that fruitbat along with all the other nutsos in this rotten town. He was here first, so just gotta' deal.”
“Amy then? I…I’ll be honest, I had thought…”
“Not Rohrback either. Don’t worry ‘bout her. What I read, she’s a tough broad, though she might not look it right now. She may be down but she ain’t out.”
“But, she quit.”
“Maybe,” was all Harvey said chewing on something a moment. “Figure in the long run, you’ll quit before she will, Grayson. She’s true blue.”
Dick nodded as he could only sit there quietly for a moment in silent agreement with that. “Then is it about me as a cop?”
“Everythin' ain't always about you, kid,” Bullock snarled. “No, I mean, this is 'bout Babs back there.”
“Excuse me?”
Keeping his eyes on the road ahead, Harvey remained silent a moment. His eyes narrowed, and still he was silent. Finally, “She means the world to Jimmy, even if he don't say it. What was done to her, what was taken away...the Commish ain't the only one who thinks the most a'her. If you hurt her in anyway…” Harvey left it there, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.
“Chief...Harvey, I won't. I can't. I wouldn't.”
To that Harvey nodded, turning the corner too sharply. “Damned right you won't.”
“Yes sir.” The 'sir' felt appropriate.
“Whatta’ we got,” Harvey called out as he climbed out of his car as it rolled to a halt. A loud *BANG* from the muffler announced the chief’s arrival. Dick was slower getting out, grabbing his notepad before approaching the scene behind Harvey.
An officer stepped forward to lift the tape. “A body, likely a murder, but no weapon was found which…well, you’ll have to see for yourself, sir?”
“Gannon?”
The officer looked over to Detective Grayson and his face split in a smile. “Dick!”
“Take it you two know each other,” Harvey snorted as he headed up the short set of stairs and into the apartment. “Academy?”
Dick nodded as he followed, “Same class and everything.”
“Only someone seems to have advanced a heck of a lot faster than I did. I’m still on my feet, not sitting at any fancy detective’s desk.”
“It’s not so fancy.”
“Well, it was earned. I mean, taking down Roland Desmond all by yourself? That sure turned heads,” Gannon beamed.
Bullock coughed loudly. “Not everyone’s. You found a crime?” He turned his back to both of them to punch the button for the elevator.
Gannon also followed but headed for the stairwell. “It’s just three floors up, sir.”
Gannon didn’t get more than a couple of steps up before Bullock called, “Officer.” Gannon turned and Harvey peered a moment. “Mallory,” he read the uniformed officer’s badge. “Somethin’ wrong with the elevator?”
“No, sir,” Gannon fumbled and backpedaled to join as the door opened.
“So, Gan, you were the first on the scene?” Dick guessed as he thought to make the most of the elevator trip.
“That’s right,” Mallory relished the opportunity to make a new impression. “I was driving my route when the call came in. I dashed over and out ran the witness. Said all he saw was that the victim, Mrs. Cheryl Tate, age forty-one, stumble out of her apartment and to collapse in the hallway. Tate was holding her chest when she fell. The neighbor, Mr. Malcolm May, thought it might have been a heart attack but when he saw the pool of blood, well, that’s when I got the call.”
“No one else saw anythin’, huh?” Harvey shook his head as the elevator dinged and the door opened. “That’sa’ sack o’ hockey pucks. Buildin’ this small, ‘partments this close together? Someone heard somethin’.” Bullock turned and poked Gannon right in the badge. “Start knockin’ on doors.”
“We’ll catch up later, Gan,” Dick promised as he stayed by Harvey’s side as he stalked down the thin hallway to technicians at the scene. Dick observed immediately, “Door’s intact. No signs of forced entry?”
“Hrm,” Harvey considered briefly before waving Dick off. “Poke ‘round inside, Detective.” The chief settled before the body. “Whatta’ got, boys?”
“Who…? Oh, the new chief, right?” The tech shrugged. “You’ll know when we do. We’re almost done here and can flip it over in a second, and we’ll know more then.”
Dick carefully bypassed the scene, graceful and quick, getting into Tate’s apartment. It was clear than she lived alone now, though the closet had several men’s shirts at the back and dresser had dusty frames of a wedding. Judging by the age of Tate in them, Dick guessed it had been over fifteen years ago.
Dick was at the kitchen table with his gloves on going through a mass of legal documents and half-opened mail when Harvey waddled in, pushing up his worn fedora. “They’re turning her over now. Whatcha’ find, Detective?”
“No weapon, if that’s what you’re hoping for, but maybe lots of motive,” Dick suggested as he held out a wad of opened mail for the chief to examine. Bullock stabbed his hands into his trench coat pockets to retrieve his gloves before he thumbed through the letters.
“Death threats? That ol’ bitty out there?” “She was only forty-one, H…Chief. I didn’t get to look through many of them yet, but I think I have found the why to that. She was a lawyer, working for the dock workers union. Seems there’s a bit of a heated labor dispute going on down at the piers, or has been for some time and they’re on the verge of a strike.”
“And someone thought that with Tate outta’ the way…?”
“Mr. Alistair McNeil,” Dick shrugged as he held out another paper for Harvey, “Master operator of Bludhaven’s docks. From Mrs. Tate’s notes, he was less than helpful.”
“McNeil…where’ve I heard that name?”
“He was just recently given the post, just before you got to town, Chief. Appointed by Mayor Shay,” Dick shared as he went back to looking at the legal papers.
“Right,” Harvey grunted, dropping the papers back on the table. “Round alla’ this up to take back to the station.”
“Here, the lawyer that Mrs. Tate was working with, Alice Cole. Might not hurt to see what she has to say about this.”
“Sure,” the Chief conceded, “after ya’ track down that McNeil character.”
They were interrupted by one of the techs. “We’re ready for you. It’s…well, come see.”
In the center of Mrs. Tate’s body was a large hole where her heart would be, perfectly round and showing no sign of gunshot or tearing from a stabbing.
Harvey was the first to speak. “Huh.”
Dick knelt and used his pen to lightly lift the ruined cloth and lowered two fingers to touch skin. “She’s cold.” He looked up at Harvey. “Not like dead body cold but…cold…”
“Icicle,” came from behind them. They all turned to look at Gannon who had returned and explained himself. “The ‘perfect murder weapon’ and all that.” They continued to stare at him. “What? I’m somewhat of a crime novel junkie. Heck, they’ve even done it in movies.”
Harvey just snorted and waved for the techs to pack it all up. “Well, this ain’t no ‘Lead and Legal’ TV show donkey business, Mallory.” He looked down at Mrs. Tate. “No smoke ‘n mirrors, let’s find the scum that did this.”
It was a take-out dinner for one after Dick found a note from Babs indicating she had gone back out again. Clearly whatever she had found at the library was occupying her and Dick didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, he knew he wasn’t good company. Alice Cole had dodged his calls all day. Frank McNeil seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth. He didn’t feel like checking if Slade Wilson was home next door. He was ready to clear his head. Five minutes after tossing the take out box in the trash, Nightwing had taken to Bludhaven’s skies.
Nightwing perched outside Alice Cole’s apartment.
He slid in through an open window and entered her empty bedroom. There was the sound of a shower running just down the hall so he took the opportunity to look around. There were some men’s clothing in the closet but there were no pictures. Cole seemed far more organized, which he had expected based on her file. Alice was a younger, more ambitious lawyer than Tate, and worked for a prestigious law firm.
He passed the bathroom and headed down the hall to the living room. Alice lay motionless on the sofa. He verified her lack of pulse. Alice had been pretty. Her hair was still damp, her face flushed with her hands at her neck. Nightwing turned his trained eyes to the smattering of paperwork around her. Much like Cheryl Tate there was a mass of legal documents about; she’d been working. Most of the papers were also wet and all of the letters were peeled open, as if… “
Steamed open?”
“Gggarrggght!”
The blow caught Nightwing unaware as it slammed into his side and sent him reeling. He bounced off a lounge chair and thudded into the wall but came up ready, his eskrima sticks in his extended hands. He only had a moment to see the figure before him before he had to react.
Large blue hands punched out at him and when Nightwing attempted to bat them aside he met the splashing resistance of water. “Well, that presents a ch–!” The watery figure slammed its arms together with Nightwing in between. He relied on instinct to get his arms up defensively, but that proved to do little good inside the pinching collision of water. Nightwing sputtered and collapsed to one knee, but the water-man wasted no time grabbing the vigilante and hurling him up and away.
Nightwing crashed into the ceiling fan, a lamp and then the television before he crashed to the floor. He managed to get his hands under himself to push up, dodge another punch and then he leaped. Instead of landing on the ground, Nightwing’s feet found the wall and he pushed upward, vaulting over the water-thing.
“We’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t learn to get your words out. I just wanted to talk and you’re the one that came out swinging. So let’s just take this again from the top,” chided Nightwing as he braced himself, the water-man turning back to him.
The ‘man’ was easily four times his size and seemed to be made entirely of water, void and expressionless, and on his left hand he wore a shimmering silver band. “NNnnggrrt!” That was all the thing said as it swung at Nightwing again and, as Nightwing dodged to the side, he swore he saw a…face…in that ring?
The water-man spun and lunged again and Nightwing flipped back watching as the thing hit the floor with a splash. It puddled and surged, coming up under him and holding before he could jump away. “Okay then,” Nightwing spat out as he took a deep breath. “If that’s the way this is going to be.”
The ‘man’ reformed around Nightwing, attempting to drown the crime fighter within its body, but Nightwing had other ideas. His hand shot up, extending the eskrima stick out of the thing’s head, right into the sparking mess that had been the ceiling fan. His suit was insulated…
*ZZzzzZZZZzzzZZZZZzzzT!*
With a howl of pain the watery figure receded, crashed into the apartment’s door breaking it in its escape. Nightwing spit and choked on his hands and knees. “Wait up,” he managed before he got his feet under him and staggered to the splintered door to give chase.
The water-thing was gone, but there was a trail of soggy footsteps to follow.
It was well past regular business hours when Emma Shay put work behind her and entered her office to gather her things and head home for the evening. Patience had always been one of her virtues, along with her stunning beauty, and both were weapons she was willing to wield. She reached up to loosen her rich, dark curls before she removed the jacket to her power suit and flipped it onto the sofa. It was a good office, her office…the office of the Mayor of Bludhaven.
She was instantly aware of the hulking figure sitting behind her desk as she snapped the lights on.
“Mr. Desmond,” Shay said softly and hastily locked the door behind her. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Blockbuster remained seated. “A good many things, Mayor Shay. That is why I put you in this position, after all.”
Emma’s lip twitched but she remained quiet as she took the seat opposite her desk and crossed her legs politely.
“So pretty,” Roland mused before he rose and then he turned from her to look out the window at the skyline.
“Thank you, Mr. Desmond.”
“I don’t require your appreciation, Emma, just a return on my investment. I did, after all, spend a considerable sum to see you become the mayor. It was such a sudden election, but you played your part perfectly in the crisis, I must confess. Young and so very attractive, sweeping in after clearing up the mess that Redhorn left. How was Bludhaven to avoid being captivated by your...charms? Beauty and an unblemished record, it proved to be the winning combination. It was quite the landslide victory, my dear.”
“Since then I have worked quite tirelessly too, serving the city. I grew up here,” she eyed the larger man, who had only just moved here. “I know it in and out, fortunately, for the both of us. I knew there was a lot to tackle but, well…the endless meetings, the counselors and their prat–”
“Don’t get lost in this, Shay. I placed you here for a purpose: my purposes.”
“They elected me,” Shay dared, having grown tired of this condescension. First she faced it from Lady Vic, Roland’s flunky, and to have him flaunt it in her face only reminded her of how true it was.
Desmond chuckled, full and loud as he turned to her. “Don’t think for a moment that not one of them out there knows just who it is that really sits in this office. The election was a costly thing and if there is anything that the rats out there care about, it’s money. You may claim to work for them but they know who you truly work for.”
That silenced Emma Shay.
“Tragic how our last mayor had that hunting accident,” Blockbuster smiled. He crossed the office and stood behind her, towering over her as his large hands lowered to the back of her seat
“I don’t hunt,” Shay bit out.
“My dear, neither did the late Mayor.” Blockbuster grabbed the mayor, his palm and fingers enclosing her entire pretty head. He raised her up and turned her to face him, even though her struggling face was hidden behind his thick fingers. “When I say jump,” he growled, releasing her toward her desk, “you say…?”
“How high,” she choked, raspy, though her hands didn’t go to her throat but rather her hair, nervously straightening it.
“Good. Now, you will see to Elaine, Lady Vic, and that she is released from Lockhaven. I have allowed her to stew long enough for her failures. I have need of her again.”
“That…that is not going to be easy, sir,” Shay composed herself, now behind her desk in her own chair.
“But possible. Get it done for me,” Roland stated, leveling his gaze at Emma. He turned and yanked the door off its hinges rather than bothering to unlock it.
She sat at her desk for a long time before turning off the hidden recorder and then a moment longer until she dialed Lockhaven.
The watery footsteps dried up.
Nightwing swung from one building to the next but he was soon going to be running out of roofs as he headed toward Bludhaven's pier and the murky bay beyond. He landed atop a building and stood looking out at the moon’s reflection on the waters. He needed to figure out where to go next.
He immediately rejected his first option of calling Barbara, knowing that she was currently occupied. Instead, he pulled his cell phone out of his arm cuff and dialed the number he had acquired before leaving the Tate crime scene.
Hello, Dick?
“Gannon, hey, hi, sorry to be calling you like this. It's just something about that scene earlier today,” Nightwing answered and he listened intently to the other end. Soft music, the dull chatter, the clinking of glasses...old habits die hard, he thought as he continued, “I feel like I'm missing something.”
Hey, you're not the only one. Seemed like no one knew what to make of it.
“I think you were right about the icicle,” Dick shared, remembering Cole and how she had been steamed as well. “Something about it involving water just fits.”
Okay, well, then if you have the murder weapon then you need to figure out motive.
“Hrm…like silencing her for the labor dispute, to draw that out.”
Or something simpler than that. That seems messy. If that was the case, why didn't they do it much sooner, when it was more critical like right at the beginning? No, I think – excuse me, one moment... No, I'm good, thanks, Gannon seemed to be answering someone else.
When it seemed like the conversation on the other end was done, Nightwing said, “Sorry to interrupt you, man. You're out, likely on a date or something,” he guessed.
It's cool. He understands how important work is to me. But I should go. Anyway, I'd look first at things like...did she have an insurance policy on her, any jilted ex-lovers, or gambling debt, or relatives in any one of the many gangs in the 'Haven, or...okay, I'm being told I should wrap it up. Good luck, Detective.
“Thanks Gan,” Nightwing smiled as his mind was spinning in directions he knew it should have to begin with. Instead of tucking the phone away he dialed again. “Chief?”
Whatta' want, Grayson?
“The scene, from earlier today. Tate had a husband, right? But she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. What happened to him?”
Hold on, Harvey Bullock snorted and shuffled things around. Here it is. Yeah, she had an old man, Peter Tate. Seems he left her for...well, ain't that somethin'. What was the name of Tate's opposin' lawyer?
“Cole, Alice Cole,” Nightwing sighed, thinking back to her apartment.
Hold on, and there was the sound of more rustled papers as Harvey dug for something else. I sent them two dummies Drebben and Whiting out to ask after Mr. Pete there. Never found ‘em, but his buddies were more’n willin’ to talk about him. Quite the lady killer.
Nightwing could almost hear Harvey’s grin on the other end of the phone. “You don’t say?”
Seems like ol' Petey traded in the wife for a younger version, when he met this Cole chick. This dispute’s been goin’ on years now and the broads crossed tables then, which is when Mr. Tate left the ol’ ball’n’chain. There was the sound of more papers being flipped. Damned Drebben’s handwritin’, next to worthless, like he seems to be.
Dick didn’t take the bait, as he wasn’t about to speak out against his fellow detectives, no matter how rotten he suspected them to be. That was a determination that the new chief would have to settle on for his own.
With no answer, Harvey continued. Real sweet guy, this Petey. He mighta’ been with new lady Cole but not for long. Seems he then turned 'round and dumped her too. Been datin' this fellow warehouse chick at 'Eastern Passage Canneries'. Here Bullock snorted loudly. Man must have some charm. His buddies were more’n willin’ to brag on his behalf. An eighteen year old. Susan Mume.
“You might want to send out a couple of cars to Cole and Mume's places. What's Susan Mume's address?”
Third and Sullivan. Why? You got somethin', kid?
“Let's hope not. Just a hunch. Don't work too late, Harv.”
It's 'chief', Bullock corrected abruptly ending the call.
Nightwing looked north. Sullivan was north of the Spine, well behind him now. There was no way his watery foe headed that way. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers as his gaze turned to the warehouse. Nightwing vaulted into the Bludhaven skyline once more.
He knew he was on the right path when he noticed the light on in the office of the Eastern Passage warehouse. He slipped inside easily, pausing when he heard a voice on the other side of the wall.
“...th them out of the way now, we can be together my dear, you and me forever.”
There was a gurgling sound.
“I know, I know, my sweet. Neither of us imagined this would happen, but we'll manage. We'll make it work, I promise.”
There was more gurgling.
“Oh, my poor baby.”
Now seemed as good a time as any so Nightwing swung the door open but was still not entirely prepared for the scene he witnessed. Susan Mume was embracing the water-thing..was that with affection?
Nightwing bounded forward simultaneously grabbing Susan and swinging an eskrima stick at the head of the thing. The young woman came away as the water-man's head splashed.
“No!” Miss Mume objected and twisted around to slap Nightwing. “Leave us alone,” she spat.
Nightwing reeled and the water-man slammed his chest with a heavy punch, sending the vigilante out the doorway he had just burst through. “Lllllleeeeeeeeevvvv!” Nightwing rolled down the metal stairs to the cannery floor below.
Susan emerged behind it and pointed. “He wants to keep us apart, Petey! Make him go away, like you did the others, and we can get away! Just you and me, baby, just you and me!”
'Peter' raced down the stairs but Nightwing didn't let 'him' get too close. “Freeze right there,” he managed as he lobbed a pair of cryo-thermal frags, instantly turning the water-man to ice. “I keep those for Firefly or Heatwave or something, but they’d do for you,” Nightwing continued as he raced past the frozen man to grab Susan's arm once more.
“Like that will stop him,” she just grinned. “Ice is still water.”
Nightwing looked puzzled before he was swatted yet again, this time by a solid iced arm. 'Peter' might be frozen, now a figure of ice, but he still moved. Nightwing sailed away to the far wall of the cannery, popping to his feet when he met the floor. “Ouch,” he gritted.
'Peter' was on him an instant later. Nightwing deflected one icy punch with an eskrima stick and then another but still found himself retreating into the wall. “I don't do confined spaces, sorry,” Nightwing ducked and rolled between the lumbering water-man's feet. He swung his sticks at the back of his foe's icy knees, making small chips in each, accomplishing little but giving the vigilante an idea.
He sprang away and raced toward nearby machinery as 'Peter' closed in behind him. Nightwing suddenly leaped aside and lobbed a pair of explosive pellets at the base of the machine. “Sorry, but I need a break from you to deal with your crazy girlfriend,” Nightwing quipped as the machine collapsed. It fell heavily on 'Peter' with a shatter.
“That won't stop him,” Susan stood defiantly motionless as Nightwing raced up the stairs to her. She just nodded her chin toward the toppled machine. Already the broken ice rapidly melted and flowed back together.
“Magic,” Nightwing guessed as he reached Susan, snatching her hand from the air mid-slap. “Some kind of spell,” he continued to which the girl only grinned. He turned, checked on his opponent who was now nearly reformed. “The ring,” he concluded as he saw how bright and unblemished it appeared still on watery hand.
“A family heirloom,” she nodded with her chin stiffening, stilled for the moment. “La Bague Diluere,” she sneered with pride, though her French accent was terrible. “Meant to wash away one’s enemies. It was the only valuable thing my family ever gave me, though they locked it away, kept it like some kind of shame. But now it's my gift to him, the most beautiful man I have ever known. A ring to signify our bond,” she smiled all too sweetly.
“You mean to signify his servitude. You told him to murder those women.”
“He only needs me,” she glared, naively defiant. When she turned to see that 'Peter' had regained his watery form her defiance turned to anger. She barked, a sharp command, “Get him, my…my Deluge!”
Nightwing turned and tossed the struggling girl over his shoulder. He fired off a zipline to swing the pair of them away from the office toward the double doors that lead to the docks. “I've had enough of being batted around by him, thank you very much. Perhaps some distance between you two will be a good thing.”
Deluge surged forward, enraged. As it ran after them it veered only slightly and dove into a machine, coursing through it. The machine was hot and as 'Peter' came out the other side; he was now a being of steam. As vapor it flew after the pair, hissing angry and hot.
Nightwing dropped the girl and was opening the doors when he felt the sting of sizzling heat on the back of his neck as Deluge spat. A spray of steam pelted the back of (fortunately) his costume. He staggered and turned, but Deluge had condensed to water once more and smacked a fist into the vigilante.
“You don't have to do this Peter, she's using you,” Nightwing coughed, his eskrima sticks at the ready.
“Lllllluuuuuuuuv,” Deluge gurgled, “Nnnneeethhhinnn sheeeeee ooooooonntts.”
“Quickly, baby,” Susan cheered from the sidelines. “You have to end him quickly. The time is almost up, and if you don't get the ring off soon it will be permanent. You have to kill Nightwing quickly! End him!”
He dodged several punches, as 'Peter' began to slow, but the way he moved was unpredictable. He vaulted over another punch and brought his sticks around but they splashed through Deluge's waist.
'Peter' backed up a step and churned. Suddenly it lunged, crashing forward like a wave.
Nightwing managed to meet the rushing Deluge with a kick to the 'face' but the watery being enveloped him once again, just like it had in the Cole apartment. From within Deluge, Nightwing could see Susan Mume getting to her feet, a smug grin on her face.
Nightwing struggled within Deluge. He was unable to just 'swim' out as Peter held Nightwing within him, but the vigilante retrieved his zipline and fired. The end of it erupted out of Deluge's chest, extended and wrapped around Susan who gave a startled yelp. Nightwing yanked just enough.
Susan stumbled, near the side of the dock, and toppled. She fell into the water of Bludhaven's bay and came up splashing and yelling. “Peter! Peter, help me! I can't swim!”
Instantly, Deluge released his prey and dove as it sought to save its love. When it hit the water, however, it too began to struggle. The two lovers shared a moment of panic; Susan unable to do anything but start to sink and Deluge melting.
Nightwing stood on the dock, using the line around Susan to pull her up as she came out of the water choking and blubbering. Below her she could only watch as her Deluge faded away, diluted into the waters of the bay. She grabbed for his hand just before it vanished but came up only with the ring in the palm of her hand.
“My ring, my ring,” she sobbed. “You nearly lost my ring!”
“So much for your love, Peter,” Nightwing said as he hauled her up.
She slipped the ring over her finger and hissed up at him, “You know nothing of love!”
Nightwing was about to call out but it was too late. As Susan Mume transformed into water the line around her middle slipped through and she landed back in the water. Like Peter Tate before her, she spread, thinned and disappeared, diluted away. Nightwing just watched and let the silver ring sink, content to let the harbor have it.
Nightwing felt the need to say something before he turned away. “I know that love makes you want to soar, but it's something else that makes you sink.”
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To Be Continued...
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