Nightwing

“It’s all fun and games ‘til someone flips a boat out of the harbor and onto the Interstate, huh, Benny.”

Benny Peeples hadn’t been listening, but Daugo’s comment, coupled with a gentle elbow to the ribs, jostled him back to attention. The sound of the helicopter rotors nearly drowned out the comment, as their ride sped high over Bludhaven.

“Gotta be the damndest thing I’ve ever heard,” added Hank, the third soldier in their makeshift unit. Benny nodded, content to let Hank speak for him. He felt like he could fall asleep at any moment.

The call had come at 4:00 am, jostling Benny and his wife Ava from their sleep. Ava, long used to these sorts of calls, had immediately returned to her slumber. Benny had not been so lucky. These calls were much easier to take thirty, or twenty, or even ten years ago. But as Benny had gotten older, being on call in the middle of the night had gotten increasingly excruciating. Even the novelty of this call couldn’t roust him.

Earlier in the evening, two drunk rednecks had stolen a speedboat from Sever Harbor in Dresher. They had loaded their considerable remaining supply of alcohol onto the boat and headed out for a joyride. At increasingly dangerous speeds, while consuming increasingly dangerous quantities of cheap beer, the two miscreants had piloted the ship North toward Bludhaven and Gotham. They’d finally lost control of the boat, as fate would have it, right as they reached the point just North of Bludhaven where I-60 passed over the river. The boat had spun completely out of control and flipped over a buoy, catapulting into the air. The flip sent the boat spinning onto the bridge and the middle of I-60, where it landed across the middle two of the four lanes of traffic, just in front of a Toyota Corolla traveling southbound toward Bludhaven. The Toyota swerved, spun out of control and smacked into the boat. The resulting chaos blocked traffic in both directions on I-60 for several hours. Traffic was light at 3:43 am, when the accident occurred, but was nonetheless sufficient to create a major pileup on the highway.

The Toyota was being driven by a gentleman known as Vinny Argade. In the trunk of the Toyota were several dozen kilos of crack cocaine. At the time of the accident, Vinny had been in the process of transporting the drugs south from Gotham to Bludhaven. The drugs belonged to Roland Desmond, the catatonic mob boss of Bludhaven. Before he collapsed into unconsciousness, Vinny had the presence of mind to alert his superiors of his predicament.

Benny was part of a team assembled to recover the drugs before they were discovered by State Troopers investigating the accident. “Why didn’t they just use the friggin helicopter to move the stash in the first place?” he’d muttered when the phone rang. But that wasn’t his decision to make. So now he sat in a helicopter with the rest of the hastily-assembled ‘team’, his mission to keep the drugs out of the hands of the police. Vinny was, of course, expendable.

The helicopter touched down in a patch of grass about 100 yards off the interstate. Only in or near Bludhaven would the mob brazenly set a helicopter down in full view of hundreds of people, but there you go, Benny thought. Benny filed out of the copter behind Daugo, while Hank piloted the bird. Daugo handed Benny three large empty garbage bags. “Alright, you know the drill, dude. Get the stuff, load it into the bags, get out. I hear sirens already, so we don’t have much time.”

Benny barely noticed a black Mercedes stopped on the highway as he and Daugo ran for the Toyota. He hardly saw two men emerge from the vehicle, holding guns. At the last second an instinct told him to duck. He hit the ground just as a bullet whizzed by. Daugo spun around, quickly withdrawing a pistol of his own and firing back at the Mercedes. “Go!! Go!!” he yelled at Benny.

Benny scrambled to a hunched-over standing position, fighting the soreness in his ribs resulting from hitting the ground. He sped toward the Toyota, frantically loading the drugs from the trunk into the bags. He could hear the sounds of a firefight, the spinning rotors of the copter and the screams of panicking commuters. Total chaos.

When he finally finished, Benny turned to start back toward the copter. As he turned, he felt himself go lightheaded; spots danced before his eyes. Benny leaned against the Toyota for support. Inside, Vinny was beginning to moan. Benny ignored him and fought for balance.

“Dammit Benny come on!!!” yelled Daugo. He was now in a crouch, firing periodically at the Mercedes. “Let’s go dammit!!”

Benny shook himself to attention, tried to steady himself. It was then he saw the blur.

At first he thought it was another trick brought on by his vertigo, but he quickly realized it was a man. In a black and blue blur, the figure spun onto the Mercedes, redirecting their fire towards him and away from Daugo. A swift burst of kicks knocked guns from each of the shooters’ hands. Daugo sprinted toward the copter. “GO!! GO!! GO!!”

Benny finally got to his feet and ran as fast as he could, awkwardly dragging the bags behind him, toward the copter. He heard a voice call to him from the Mercedes, “Stop. Stop where you are!!”

Daugo was already in the copter when Benny approached. He swung the bags into the bird just as Hank began liftoff. Daugo secured the bags, then pulled Benny in as the copter rose. Sirens now bathed the entire scene in neon light.

Just as Benny got into the copter, he felt a thud. Slumped over onto his side, he could nonetheless see that the black and blue clad interloper was hanging onto the side of the copter.

Daugo didn’t hesitate. He fired at the hanger-on, forcing him to let go in order to avoid being shot. The copter lurched again as the attacker fell toward the ground.

The copter rose into the sky. The police were on the scene, but weren’t organized well enough to mount a credible threat.

Benny looked down at the ground, where a black and blue figure was now racing toward the cover of nearby trees. “Goddamned Nightwing,” muttered Daugo. “At least he took down the Scarpattis.”

“You think those guys were Scarpattis?” asked Hank.

“Gotta be. Who else would be tailing Vinny like that? They’re getting all ballsy now that Blockbuster’s laid up.”

Benny’s mind had already drifted from Daugo and Hank’s conversation. Nightwing… hmm…. wonder if?

“Hey there sport. Seen any boats fly onto the interstate lately?”

Dick grinned as Babs approached, right on time for lunch at Area 77, Bludhaven’s finest Italian eatery. “Has it been on the news yet?”

“Are you kidding?” Babs grinned. “You were the lead story all over the Northeast. Boat flips onto interstate, causes wreck, causes firefight? Even Gotham doesn’t get stuff that crazy. BPD make any arrests?”

“A few. Looks like the Scarpattis were shooting at someone connected with Vinny Sabro. Low-level mob type. Small fry. I’d really like to get a hold of the guys who got away in the helicopter.”

Babs shook her head in disbelief. “Shall we go inside?”

Dick nodded and followed Babs into Area 77. “Thanks for making the trip down here.” Babs had recently been injured by a crazed maniac who was targeting Dick’s friends and loved ones. As far as he knew, this was her first real trip out since the attack. “Been working yet?”

“I’m easing my way back in.” Dick knew this was a lie. Babs never ‘eased into’ anything. If she’d worked at all, in her guise as Oracle, she was doing it full-time. He smirked as they took a seat.

After studying the menu in silence for a moment, Dick placed it in front of him. “Want to try the calamari appetizer?”

Babs looked skeptically from behind her menu. “You, uh, know that’s squid, right?”

“Uh, yeah. So?”

“So you just don’t usually strike me as a squid kinda guy.”

“Heh. I’m not all cheeseburgers and pizza, milady. Look where I grew up. Alfred was always trying to push off exotic cuisine on me.”

Babs laughed as she repressed a mental image of Alfred trying to force-feed a scrunch-mouthed Dick calamari. “Perhaps there’s more to you than meets the eye, Mr. Grayson. You seem to be a man of unplumbed depths.” She looked up to see Dick’s eyes sweeping the restaurant, his attention diverted.

The silence caused him to snap back to attention. “Wuzzat, Babs? Sorry, I was looking for the waiter.”

“I said, calamari sounds great,” Babs chuckled. “See if they have escargot, too.”

“Huh? Isn’t that snails? No way. And isn’t that French?”

Babs grinned. “So…should we talk wedding plans?” Dick turned pale. “Hey. You asked me, remember?”

“Yeah I know. I remember. And I’m ready to get married, just… well...” Dick squirmed in his seat, obviously uncomfortable.

“Easy there, Chandler. I know. All your other weddings were rush jobs where you either get attacked by Raven and Deathwing, or pretend to marry an alleged black widow, and you want to plan this one slowly and make sure we do it right. Don’t worry, babe. We’re on the same page.”

Babs could see Dick’s shoulders sag as the tension left him. “Cool. Really cool. I was worried you’d think I was trying put you off.”

“Not a bit. Hey, what’s sillier – me asking you about a boat flopping onto the interstate, or me telling you how our wedding will be different from ‘all your other weddings’?”

“Heh. I assume you’ll be wanting to see some final proof that we’ve actually registered the marriage license?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely.”

“Damnation!”

Inspector Shay smirked at the floor while Chief Redhorn was on his tirade. She’d been listening to him gripe for nearly fifteen minutes, hunched over documents on his desk. Lacking even an ounce of curiosity, she finally decided she could take no more. “Trouble, dear?”

He glared at her. “Don’t call me that.”

“Okay. Trouble, asshole?”

“Damn right. The state government’s getting all up in my business.”

“Which one? Legal or illegal?” Redhorn had long been a corrupt cop, but his power had recently grown. For some time Bludhaven’s mobs had been under the control of Roland Desmond, a.k.a. Blockbuster. However, Blockbuster now lay catatonic in a hospital, with charges pending against him when (or if) he awakened. In his absence Redhorn had assumed control of the Bludhaven underworld, leaving him in the unique position of running the law as well as its enemies.

“Legal. BPD has always been separate from the rest of Finger County. We haven’t had to answer to Dresher and all those backwater burgs.” Shay smiled at Redhorn’s reference to backwater burgs. “Now state deems that inefficient. Says we need to be consolidated, with one county police force. Looks like that’s going to happen much sooner than later.”

“You’re worried about losing control.”

“Damn right.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s so.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air. “Well?”

Shay recrossed her legs and reclined in her seat. “I have some contacts in the state legislature and the governor’s office. I’ll make sure you’re in charge of the new consolidated police force. That is, as long as our ‘arrangement’ can continue.”

“Well…yes, sure. That’d be great.” Redhorn wondered just how much there was that he didn’t know about Shay. She constantly surprised him.

“You shouldn’t be satisfied with just that, though.”

“No?”

“No. You want your people in positions of power.”

“Great. Half my people just got killed by a nutso serial killer.”

“Then promote some lower-ranking officers.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Anyone in mind?”

“Not really. They don’t even have to be ‘our’ officers, so long as they’re Bludhaven troops. Catch my drift?”

It was 5:00 pm by the time Benny awoke and dressed for work. His old bones ached as he rose. The night before was supposed to have been his night off, but in his line of work there were no guarantees of any respite.

Officially, Benny was employed as a security guard for Cocoa Plus, one of Bludhaven’s oldest coffee breweries. He worked night shift five nights a week. In reality, he rarely graced Cocoa Plus’ premises, since Cocoa Plus was owned by Mihn Investments, which was one of a number of dummy corporations owned by Transnet, Inc. Transnet Inc. was one of a number of companies owned by Untro, Inc. All the stock of Untro, Inc. had been sold some time ago, at a very generous price, to Roland Desmond. Benny was mobbed up, and his job as a ‘security guard’ had been arranged years ago by and through Albie Untro, who was at the time Bludhaven’s top mob boss.

Ava was watching TV when Benny headed downstairs. “Hi honey,” she said, without really looking up.

“Morning, dear.”

“If you say so. They’ve been showing this wreck on the interstate all afternoon. The road was shut down until after noon while they cleaned up. Did, uh, your call last night have anything to…”

Benny cut her off. “Don’t ask me. Don’t ask me about that.”

“Sorry.”

“s’ok. What else is new?”

“Well, Grace called. She’s hoping to come into town weekend after next. I talked to Benji. He said Karen is coming along fine with the pregnancy. They have their second ultrasound on Friday.”

Benny smiled. A grandfather. Soon.

The TV droned on, “In other news, the city council continued negotiations with Heywood Industries, as plans continue apace for the Detroit-based company to open a local plant. Several industry insiders say...” Benny tuned it out, thought about his unborn grandchild. He thought about his wife sitting on the couch, as oblivious to his other life as he could keep her.

Then he thought about the spots he had seen the night before…about how he’d nearly been killed. He thought of Vinny, moaning in the battered Toyota.

Then he thought about Nightwing.

And he knew what he had to do.

“-telling you, man, he’s slowing down. A lot. He’s not what he used-“

“That’s enough, Daugo.” barked Walter Indrale. Indrale was Daugo’s superior, and reported, under the new power structure, directly to Redhorn. “You don’t talk about Benny Peeples that way. The man’s been a straight shooter for forty years, you got that? That’s before you were even born. He’s a good soldier, even now. You don’t come down on him, you got that?”

“Yessir. I’m sorry. I like Benny too. Don’t you think, though, it might be best to focus him on things that aren’t so – physical? You know? Let the young guys handle the tough stuff?”

Indrale considered this. “Maybe. Maybe having him running around in firefights isn’t the best use of his talents. We’ll see.

“Thank you for your work last night, Daugo. You did good.” As Daugo left, Indrale pondered Benny’s future.

It felt good for Dick to slip on his Nightwing costume and hit the streets. Lately he’d found himself spending less and less time in his costumed persona. His job with the BPD was taking up an increasing amount of time. The recent killings of police officers had left the department shorthanded, meaning overtime for Dick. Additionally, Dick’s apartment had been firebombed recently, meaning he was homeless, currently staying in a hotel while the damage was repaired. As the (secret) owner of his apartment building, Dick was of course responsible for the repairs. Additional headache. Additional responsibilities.

Add to that his engagement, and Dick was pulling twenty-hour days. Something had to give and, increasingly, it was his rooftop jaunting.

But once in awhile it just felt good to cut loose and swing across the city. And he was loving it on this night.

The temperature was a cool fifty-eight degrees in Bludhaven. The sky was partly cloudy, but a half-moon cut through the clouds. Aside from the clouds, the night was clear, no rain in the forecast. A perfect night to leap between buildings and foil crimes.

So far, however, the night had been slow. Two muggings prevented, but nothing major. The underworld seemed ready to erupt following Blockbuster’s defeat. Nightwing hadn’t yet gotten a good feel for the major players in Bludhaven’s altered mob scene, but the incident on I-60 certainly suggested trouble was ahead. Still, the night was relatively quiet, like the calm before a hurricane.

He was actually thinking about calling it a night and getting some sleep when he saw it. A makeshift bat-signal, flickering in the night sky. The ‘bat’ looked more like a blob, but there was no mistaking the creator’s intent. Someone wanted him.

It didn’t take long for Nightwing to track the signal’s source, even though the signal only flared for intermittent bursts. Could be a trap, he thought. Best to proceed with caution.

Nightwing arrived near the Cocoa Plus factory, confident he had found the source of the signal. He spotted one man, operating a makeshift beacon, outside the factory. The man was dressed as a security guard. Reconnaissance of the area showed no one else around. No rifles protruding from open windows. No obvious explosives or incendiary devices. It looked genuine.

Still, Nightwing was very careful not to be seen as he approached the ‘security guard’. Stealthily, he glided behind the guard, careful to make no sound. Sneaky time.

“Hi.” The guard was startled by Nightwing’s greeting. He literally jumped, then composed himself, his hand cautiously over his heart. Nightwing thought he heard the guard mutter. “You rang?”

“You’re Nightwing?”

“Maybe. Who wants to know?”

“My name is Benny Peeples. I’m a runner for the Bludhaven mob.”

Nightwing moved to withdraw his escrima sticks. Benny put up a hand. “Wait!!”

“Why did you call me here?”

“I want you to help me,” Benny paused to catch his breath before finishing, “…. to retire.”

To Be Continued...

Previous Issue | Next Issue