Nightwing

Charles and Giovanni waved their arms frantically, as if in unison, at Deidre Scarpatti as she hurried into the room. Instantly, she stopped, a look of panic flashing across her face.

Calmly, Romeo Scarpatti pulled the phone away from his ear and regarded Deidre. “Come in, come in. Just be a second.” He returned the receiver to his ear. “Okay. Go ahead.”

The voice on the other line was annoyed by the brief distraction. “Don’t put me on hold again.”

“I didn’t..”

“DON’T do it. What I have to say is important to you. I am important to you. More important than anyone in that room with you.”

Romeo fought off his growing irritation as his sons and daughter-in-law looked on. It wouldn’t do to lose his composure now, he thought. “I’m sorry.” He apologized through gritted teeth. “You’re right. This is important. Please tell me who killed my son.”

Involuntarily, Deidre gasped. Charles turned and looked at her, suspicion dawning in his eyes.

The voice paused. “You’ve waited long enough.”

“Yes, yes. Tell me.” Romeo cupped the phone to his ear conspiratorially.

Charles’ gaze intensified on Deidre, whose face was losing its color. “Deidre. Is everything all right?”

She turned to answer just as a “paft” sound echoed from outside. There was a tinkle, and then a bright red spot appeared on Charles’ chest. His eyes glazed over, and blood trickled from his mouth. As he fell, Deidre could see the broken window behind him, glass littering the plush floor.

“What the hell?” Giovanni reacted quickly, drawing his gun in a fluid motion. Romeo dropped the phone when he saw what was happening, racing to Charles’ limp figure on the floor. There was no need, Deidre knew. Charles was well beyond help.

She screamed. At the top of her lungs. And dove to the floor, covering her head with her hands as Giovanni raced toward the window. “Giovanni, stop!” shouted Romeo. “Get down!!” Giovanni was undeterred, firing three shots wildly out the window, a primal scream bellowing from his lips. “Dammit!” Romeo crawled quickly over to Giovanni and grabbed him, pulling him to the ground just as another bullet flew through the window, shattering its remains. Deidre screamed again as Giovanni finally came to his senses and dropped to the floor.

Everyone lay still for what seemed like an eternity. The only sound was the phone beeping where Romeo had dropped it, the call long terminated. Giovanni sobbed softly, his eyes fixed on his second dead brother. Deidre hated him for his whimpering.

Suddenly, the study’s doors burst open, and the security detail flooded the room, helping all three survivors to their feet. “Sir, are you okay?” asked the lead as he lifted Romeo from the floor. Romeo nodded slowly, staring at his son’s corpse. “The shooter got away, but we may have an eyedee.”

Romeo waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind that. Did you get a trace on the last call?”

The guard nodded. “Oh yes. Got a perfect trace.”

“Oracle, have you got anything on your spy-sats?” Nightwing flipped upside down as he hurtled between buildings, canvassing the rooftops of Bludhaven as he headed for the address he’d been given under duress.

Babs’ irritation was evident in her caustic reply. “I don’t have ‘spy-sats’, Wonder Boy. I have ‘surveillance cameras’.” Nightwing knew better than to argue the point, which Oracle would see as something much more significant than a semantic distinction. Instead, he paused appropriately while she made her point. “And yes, I’ve got some surveillance of the address you gave me. Not sure how much help it’ll be to you, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve been checking out the tape for the last little while. You identified Apartment 14-J as Marksman’s, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, there are no lights on in the apartment. I haven’t seen anyone go in or out, but I’ve only been monitoring for fifteen minutes. If someone was inside before then, I wouldn’t be able to pick them up.”

“Don’t you have archives or something? Isn’t it stored someplace?” Nightwing landed on the Grummett Building and broke into a sprint, readying himself for his next leap.

“Yes, and I’m pulling them, but I doubt we’ll see much. I don’t really have a good view of Marksman’s building. The camera in that area that I hijacked is from a streetlight, and it’s not a good angle.”

Nightwing smiled inwardly, secretly happy to know there were limits even to Oracle’s capabilities. “Well Marksman’s got no reason to hide, if he’s home. No reason to leave the lights off. The only reason for someone to be hiding out in there is if someone’s waiting for him.”

“Someone like Redhorn?” asked Babs. There was no need for a reply.

Chester Gasker knew the game was up. He’d been so careful not to get caught, but this time, he knew, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He’d taken care to keep all his prior interactions with Romeo Scarpatti mercifully brief, making sure his calls couldn’t be traced. But this time..

This time he’d heard the commotion, could tell that something was deadly wrong in the Scarpatti study. He’d hesitated, just briefly, but long enough. The call had been too long. It had been traced, he was sure. And now he’d be pursued. Having previously been seen during his escape from Scarpatti’s assassin, Chester was screwed. They knew he only had one arm. They’d be on the lookout for a one-armed man. They’d have people here, within minutes.

Chester stepped away from the phone booth, glanced furtively at the alley behind his favorite coffeeshop. He thought of the briefcase filled with money hidden in the alley. Did he have enough time to retrieve it? Wouldn’t the briefcase be an additional method by which he could be identified? DAMMIT!!!

A taxi drove slowly by on the busy street, its wheels sloshing water onto the sidewalk. Chester fumbled in his pocket for the money he’d stashed. One last look toward the alley, then Chester sprinted after the departing taxi, waving his arm.

Romeo was on his cellphone as he corralled Giovanni and Deidre out of the estate. They were flanked by three armed guards, and Romeo’s driver was preparing the limo. Giovanni was protesting, “Dad, this is insane! What if the killer’s still here?”

“There’s no time.” Romeo replied. As soon as he’d seen Charles hit the ground, Romeo had known what he needed to do in order to keep his family alive. “Marksman!” he barked into his phone. “This is Romeo Scarpatti!”

Marksman’s voice was steady over the line, but something was wrong with the connection. Romeo thought he heard an echo of his own voice. “I’m here. What’s the matter?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m on my way home from an appointment. Almost there.”

“I need you. Now. Downtown.” Romeo gave Marksman the address he’d gotten from his security detail.

“What’s this all about?”

“I have the location of the man who knows who killed Antonio. I need you to meet us there.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? We’re going to make him talk, and then you’re going to kill him.”

Marksman smiled as he hung up the phone, filled with admiration for Romeo Scarpatti. He’d been afraid Romeo would go to pieces after watching a second son murdered, but the old man had pulled himself together quite well, and remarkably quickly.

He hasn’t really wanted to shoot Charles, of course. Not that he minded, but it hadn’t been on the agenda. But he needed a distraction. The mystery caller was about to give him and Deidre up, and he had to stop the call. In retrospect, he thought, he should have shot out a phone line or something, but where was the fun in that?

And now Romeo had dropped the solution to this whole mess right in his lap. He’d identified the mystery caller, and dispatched Marksman to kill him. Even if the mystery caller blurted anything out when everyone arrived on the scene, he wouldn’t be credible. By identifying two of the people getting ready to aid in killing him, the caller would look desparate.

If it got that far. Which wasn’t guaranteed. Guns had a way of going off.

Marksman was slowed at a traffic light when Romeo called, one block from his apartment building. Instead of going straight, he clicked on his right turn signal to turn around. Slowly, he began to accelerate into his turn, totally focused on his mission ahead.

“Dick!!” Babs’ voice was panicked.

“I see him.” Nightwing replied, leaping from the adjoining building toward the fray.

Marksman didn’t hear the crack of the rifle. The first thing he noticed was the car lurching as the bullet penetrated his left front tire. Marksman jerked the wheel to the right instinctively, only aiding the car’s swerve onto the sidewalk and into a bench. The air bags deployed on impact, as the front end of the car crumpled.

Marksman was stunned momentarily by the impact. He was trying to claw his way out of the air bag when he heard a shot, and felt the driver’s side window shatter. Someone was screaming on the street.

“BASTARD!!” screamed the man’s voice from outside the car. Chief Redhorn fired again into the window, hoping to hit the man trapped inside the air bags. “This is what happens to people who try to kill me!”

“Geez, Redhorn, who writes your dialogue?” Redhorn couldn’t swerve in time to prevent Nightwing’s boot from connecting with his face, as the former Boy Wonder leapt into the scene. He rolled to the ground, gasping for air, then rolled over, gun in hand, as Nightwing approached.

Redhorn fired wildly. Nightwing had to alter his course to avoid the gunfire, and cursed himself for not taking Redhorn down cleanly. There were too many innocents around, too many people who could get caught in the crossfire of a firefight. He whipped out two shurikens, threw them at Redhorn’s arms, hoping to dislodge his guns. One succeeded. One did not. A bloodied Redhorn staggered to his feet, still carrying one gun.

All at once, another shout filled the air. “Freeze! Both of you!” Nightwing and Redhorn swiveled to see two uniformed officers, guns drawn, pointed at the combatants. The area was now alive with screaming, panic filling the populace which had, until moments ago, been living out a quiet night.

The gears turned in Redhorn’s head. With his free hand, he gestured wildly at Nightwing. “Officers!! I’m Chief Redhorn!! I’m bringing in this.. vigilante. He was resisting arrest! Help me!!”

There was a moment of indecision in the officers’ faces. Redhorn calculated. He thought of all those allied against him, including many of his so-called subordinates. Who had sent Lady Vic to his storage unit? Who had tried to have him killed? Could he trust his own men?

Their indecision told him his answer. If they were loyal to him, they’d train their guns on Nightwing. But they couldn’t decide; they didn’t know what they were supposed to do. They were locked in a stalemate, just like he’d spent all his time since the attempt on his life. Stalemated.

It was time to break the stalemate.

Redhorn swung his gun around and fired at the officers, emptying his weapon. He saw one of them buckle and fall, even as the other fired back. He heard Nightwing scream. Redhorn kept firing even after he felt the first two bullets enter his chest. He kept firing until he ran out of ammunition, then stood there clicking his empty weapon as another bullet entered his chest, and a fourth entered his arm.

Again, Redhorn heard Nightwing scream as he noticed the C-4 attached to his belt. Only now the scream sounded far away. Redhorn’s legs buckled, and he felt his head go light as he pitched backward.

He didn’t hear the explosion.

Romeo was strangely calm as the limo approached the downtown location of the phone booth. Even the news over the radio, that an explosion was gridlocking traffic, didn’t seem to faze him.

“Mister Scarpatti,” asked the driver. “I hate to tell you this, but this is gonna be a mess for awhile. You heard the radio?”

“I heard.” Giovanni and Deidre had both been uncharacteristically silent. Giovanni seemed stunned by the loss of his brother, and had retreated into himself. Deidre just sat quietly, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

Romeo tried Marksman’s number again, with no response. They were only a block from the phone booth. Scanning the street, Romeo saw no sign of Marksman or their one-armed informant. He motioned to Giovanni. “Let’s go. You too, Deidre.”

“Go?” asked Deidre. “Go where?”

“To the phone booth. It’s up to us.”

“Up to..?” Deidre stopped in confusion. None of this made sense. She saw Giovanni, still mute, exiting the vehicle, with Romeo close behind. Romeo stopped, extended his arm to her.

“It’s time to avenge Antonio.” he said. She climbed out of the car.

Nightwing was just picking himself off the ground, his muscles revolting in agony, when he heard the sputtering car engine start up. Through a haze of soot, he saw Marksman’s car rev into action. The surviving officer fired in its direction, to no avail. Marksman had skillfully cut the airbag, and to his surprise the vehicle was still running. He spun out onto the street, trying to drive away from the commotion.

“Oracle!! We’ve got one on the move!”

“I hear you, Nightwing.”

“No way he’s getting very far in this traffic.”

“He’s not going far. I know where he’s headed. Guess what’s been going on at the Scarpatti residence tonight.”

Chester’s cab was, like almost all the others, stopped due to the congestion. Chester looked around in every direction, plotting his escape. “Can’t you do anything about this?” he asked the driver.

“Like what?” answered the greasy bald driver. “Look at this. It’ll be hours before they clear all this up.”

“Dammit, I don’t have hours!”

“Why are we in such a rush?” asked Deidre, struggling to keep up with Romeo and Giovanni as they cut through the gridlock. “It’s not like anyone’s going anywhere.”

“I want to get here before Marksman.” Romeo replied matter-of-factly. Suddenly, he stopped and scanned the street ahead of him. He saw the phone booth, now abandoned, and his eyes swept the street. “Look for the one-armed man.”

“One-armed man? Are you kidding me? You’ve been watching too many movies.”

Romeo spun angrily, but his voice was calm. “Deidre. Do not talk to me that way. There are good reasons for what I do.”

Suddenly Deidre was frightened. She nodded, unable to speak.

Romeo returned to scanning the street. Chester sat terrified in his cab only a few hundred yards away, watching Romeo, dreading the moment Romeo would see him. There was no point in running; he was trapped like a sardine. His heart sank even more when he saw Marksman coming up the street.

“Romeo!” called Marksman, and everyone swiveled toward him. He was limping slightly, and blood ran down a gash on his face.
“Good lord!” exclaimed Deidre. “What happened to you?”

Marksman shook her off. “Long story. Have we got the mystery man?”

“I saw him duck into that alley over there.” said Romeo.

“You did?” Deidre asked. “But I..”

“Go. Let’s go.” Romeo replied. The four of them headed toward the alley.

The alley was empty. Marksman and Giovanni entered and looked around tentatively, while Romeo and Deidre remained behind. “I don’t see him.” Marksman finally decided.

“It’s just as well.” Romeo pulled a gun from his pocket. “After all,” he said, “He already told me who killed Antonio.” Calmly, Romeo placed the barrel of the revolver against Deidre’s forehead and pulled the trigger. Her brains sprayed across the alley wall as her lifeless body dropped to the cement.

For a split-second, Marksman wondered if he had also been compromised. Figuring he had, he reached for a gun, only to start as Nightwing leaped into the alley and delivered a roundhouse kick to Romeo. The old man went down like a deck of cards, his gun clattering away.

Finally, Giovanni sprang into action. “Dad!” he shouted, pulling his own gun and firing in Nightwing’s direction.

Nightwing struggled to figure out who was allied with whom, his mind racing through the various scenarios. Easily avoiding Giovanni’s panicked fire, he fired a shuriken at the only remaining Scarpatti progeny, disarming him, then turned his attention to Marksman.

Marksman barely had his gun pulled before Nightwing reached him, sweeping his legs out from under him with a judo chop to the back of the knees. Marksman crumpled backwards, firing wildly into the air. Nightwing was ready to end the brief battle with a haymaker when another bullet whizzed by, making him hesitate.

He looked over to see Romeo, helped to his feet by Giovanni, pointing a gun at him. Blood trickled down Romeo’s head where Nightwing had kicked him, and he looked as if he could fall over at any minute.

He didn’t say anything. Nightwing broke the silence. “You killed that woman.”

Romeo nodded. “She killed my son. She and this man.” He gestured at Marksman. “They were in league. She was.. wearing a wire. I could hear myself.. an echo.. when I talked to him. This man killed two of my sons.”

“You know I can’t let you kill him.” Nightwing replied. “I’ll take him in.”

“There’s no evidence. He’ll walk. This is the only way.”

“I can’t let you kill him.” Nightwing said again, this time more sternly.

In the instant before it occurred, Nightwing knew what Romeo would do. It was just long enough to prevent it. His final shuriken struck Romeo just as he fired, altering his shot. In an instant, Nightwing subdued both Romeo and Giovanni. Giovanni now stared blankly ahead, his mind obviously shattered.

Romeo’s prior cool demeanor had dissolved. He sobbed, openly and loudly, offering no further resistance. His whole body shook from the sobs.

Marksman was thinking about trying to escape, but thought better of it. “You know,” he said as Nightwing bound him. “Romeo was right. There’s nothing on me. I’ll walk.”

“Shut up.” Nightwing barked, all too aware that Marksman was right. Through clenched teeth, he fought the urge to finish the job Romeo had begun. “Just shut up.”

Sirens filled the alley as the police finally responded to the gunshots. Securing Marksman tightly, a frustrated Nightwing fired his grapnel into the air, and swung into the night just as the skies opened up, and rain began to fall.

Two days later the rain had stopped. The chalk outline of Deidre Scarpatti’s body had been difficult to draw, and it was smudged but still visible in the alley where the denouement had occurred. Even after the rain, there were bloodstains on the alley walls, as well as inside the chalk outline.

Chester Jasker stepped on the outline as he trod carefully through the alley. The crime scene tape was already gone. Everyone was gone. Except him.

Cautiously, Chester sidled over to a pile of what appeared to be refuse near the back of the alley. He knelt and peeled it away with his dirty arm, revealing the fine leather briefcase concealed underneath.

His heart pounding, Chester clicked open the briefcase, pleased to see its contents still in place. Then he clicked it shut and stood, grabbing the briefcase by its handle.

Without looking back, Chester turned and carried the briefcase out of the alley and into the sun. Finally, he thought, I’m gonna be somebody.

The End...

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