Gar Logan, in the shape of a bat, landed silently on a building’s roof. Across the street was the Gotham City Questcorp facility. He shaped back to human form and frowned as he remembered the message he’d gotten earlier that day from Vernon Questor, the company’s president. Trident, a long-time Titans nuisance, had taken the facility’s director hostage. “Now if I can just get this taken care of before...” he murmured.
“Before what?” a familiar voice said from behind him. He turned and saw the one person he’d been hoping to avoid.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in Bludhaven?” Gar asked.
Nightwing smiled. “Hey, anywhere there are sewers, there you’ll find me.” He pulled up his binoculars and looked into the offices. “Oracle tipped me off about Trident being in town. I thought I’d see if I couldn’t take care of this.”
Gar sat and seethed. All he could remember was the fact that Nightwing had always been the one checking up on him. “Why can’t one thing go right?” he thought. “All I want to do is get in and out of here before I’m spotted, and Dick spots me in under an hour!”
Nightwing sat back, replacing the binoculars on the roof. “Looks like he’s settling into that main office. Your manager’s tied up but seems to be okay.” Nightwing leaned back. “Let’s give him a few minutes to get really secure and then we can head in and get him.” He turned to face Gar, who fought to keep the anger out of his face. “So, Oracle tells me that life’s been pretty interesting for you out west.”
Gar nodded. “You might say that. We’ve managed to take care of quite a few old friends so far. We’ve shut down Weather Wizard, Terra...”
“Wait a minute,” Nightwing said. “Terra went bad again?”
“Not really,” Gar said. “It’s kind of complicated. But it all boils down to the fact that Evil Terra showed up again and we stopped her with no problem. Kind of like Dr. Light.”
Nightwing smiled. “Dr. Light. Now there’s a loser I haven’t thought of for a while. Remember the time he tried to steal those statues from the museum and wound up creating gods?” He chuckled. “And then he has to come and get help from us and Hawkman!”
Gar halfway smiled. “Yeah. It’s kind of weird out there, you know. I mean, we’re being the Titans out there and none of the old gang is there except for Red Star. I kinda miss Donna, Vic, Raven, and the gang.”
“Who do you have out there?” Nightwing asked.
“Well, there’s Red Star, Risk, Mal and Karen, Terra, Flamebird, and a new guy in the old Golden Eagle armor.”
“I talked with Robin a couple of days ago,” Nightwing said. “He told me some good things about Flamebird. I’m glad to see her doing so well. Even though she does seem to hate me.”
Gar started to respond and then he saw movement from the office. “Looks like Trident’s getting ready to move.”
Without a word, Nightwing fired his line and swung at the window, leaving Changeling behind. “Looks like some things never change,” Gar said as he changed into a bee and followed.
Trident whirled around as the window shattered under Nightwing’s feet. “Nightwing!” he yelled. “Don’t come any closer! The overwhelming power of my trident-”
“Has already been stopped several times thanks to the Titans,” he finished. “Give it up. It’s over.”
“Never!” Trident screamed as he fired. Fire shot from the right tine of the trident as Nightwing dove out of the way. In a second, Nightwing had loosed a throwing disk, which slammed into Trident’s fingers, making him drop the trident. With a growl, Trident charged and got in a lucky shot on Nightwing’s temple, dazing him. When Nightwing regained his senses, he saw Trident standing above him with his weapon aimed directly for his head.
“Now, Nightwing,” a sneering Trident said. “Let’s see what you look like when this concussion blast hits your skull at point blank range. Just try not to gush on my boots.” Instead of firing, however, Trident yelled and dropped the trident, while swatting at his rear end. Nightwing started pulling himself to his feet as the green bee that had just stung Trident turned into a green gorilla.
“Take a look at this!” Gar said. “A pain in the butt for a pain in the butt!”
“You’ll pay for that!” Trident yelled, assuming a fighter’s stance. “I was a golden gloves champion!”
“Oh wow!” Changeling replied as he changed shape again. “Let’s see how you do against a boxing kangaroo!”
“This has gone on long enough, I think,” a voice from behind Trident said. Before he could react, one of Nightwing’s fighting sticks slammed into Trident’s head. The villain fell to the ground, unconscious. Gar returned to human shape and was freeing the manager while Nightwing cuffed Trident and called the police.
“I’d love to hang around and chat,” Gar said, “But I’ve got to get back to LA.” He changed into a bat and flew out through the shattered window as Nightwing waved. As police sirens began sounding in the street, Nightwing fired his line and returned to the rooftops.
“Jerk!” Gar thought. “I still haven’t forgotten how you never asked me into that group of Titans, Dick. The only time you did was in front of Vic so you thought I’d join. I’m not forgetting that. I’m going home. I don’t want to stay in this town a second later than I have to.” Angrily, Changeling flew off in the direction of the airport and the waiting Questcorp jet.
Once on the roof, Nightwing thought a moment, then he activated his small communicator bead. “You there, Oracle?” he asked.
“Sure am. What’s up?”
“Can you get me a phone number? Roy Harper. I think it’s about time I start meeting some old friends again.” As Barbara read him the number, Nightwing’s thoughts kept returning to the good times he’d had with the Titans. All that could be seen of him from anywhere else on the building was a silhouette with a wide, beaming smile.
“Cherished Memories”
Richard Hill
As Lady Elaine Cunningham walked from her shower she thought back to the first meeting she had with the vigilante known as Nightwing.
She had been hired by Blockbuster to track down another Bludhaven criminal and exterminate him. Nightwing was also on the same villain’s trail and their paths led them both to the criminal’s greasy lawyer. Nightwing walked away from the encounter with the lawyer and his young daughter but they both left with very little information. Information is what she and Blockbuster now had, and that information was about to turn Nightwing’s life upside down.
As Elaine changed into her Lady Vic outfit she thought back to the hospital room of young Tim Fencik. She remembered the rush she felt as she waded into all of the doctors and nurses as they fell before her blades like wheat before the scythe. As she placed on her mask she once again saw Blockbuster raise the mother into the air and start to crush her windpipe as Fencik begged for her release. And as time ran out on Fencik’s life the deal he made with Blockbuster to spare the old woman made her heart race.
Nightwing had been running through Blockbuster’s city unchecked for to long now, that was about to change, and Lady Vic would make certain that she was there to see the end of the vigilante once and for all.
As Lady Elaine Cunningham walked from her shower she thought back to the first meeting she had with the vigilante known as Nightwing.
She had been hired by Blockbuster to track down another Bludhaven criminal and exterminate him. Nightwing was also on the same villain’s trail and their paths led them both to the criminal’s greasy lawyer. Nightwing walked away from the encounter with the lawyer and his young daughter but they both left with very little information. Information is what she and Blockbuster now had, and that information was about to turn Nightwing’s life upside down.
As Elaine changed into her Lady Vic outfit she thought back to the hospital room of young Tim Fencik. She remembered the rush she felt as she waded into all of the doctors and nurses as they fell before her blades like wheat before the scythe. As she placed on her mask she once again saw Blockbuster raise the mother into the air and start to crush her windpipe as Fencik begged for her release. And as time ran out on Fencik’s life the deal he made with Blockbuster to spare the old woman made her heart race.
Nightwing had been running through Blockbuster’s city unchecked for to long now, that was about to change, and Lady Vic would make certain that she was there to see the end of the vigilante once and for all.
“Quickie”
Clayton Tooley
“You know, I really don’t have time for this, so pardon me if I make this quick.”
Nightwing’s escrima stick bounced off the wall beside the thugs head, slamming sharply into the nose bone, sending shards of bone and pain into the guys face, leaving him sliding to the floor unconscious. Nightwing retrieved the flying stick and took stock of his situation. He was on the second floor of the Bludhaven Bank and Trust, having worked his way down from the top floor. In just under 5 minutes he had dropped 16 punks, and from what one of them had told him under threat, there were only 8 more, all in the lobby. Good, he thought, I really don’t have time for anything dramatic.
He had been on his way to a very important encounter when he had picked up the activity here. Apparently some pseudo-militia gangbangers had decided on an evening withdrawal and had tripped a silent alarm. Lucky for them, the cops wouldn’t rush in for fear of the late-working hostages. Unlucky for them, Nightwing mastered his fear and made sure there were no victims.
He peered over the ledge of the huge plate glass window looking down upon the lobby. There were about 20 people gathered around the teller windows and loan officers’ desks, including the 8 bangers. Dick looked around, taking stock of his weapons and options, then smiled.
Let’s see Batgirl do this! He stepped back, pulling various small pellets from his costume and making sure his escrima sticks and batarangs were ready. He hooked his foot around the bottom of a wooden desk chair and kicked it as hard as he could at the window, demolishing the glass in a fantastic spray and a nerve-rattling crash. A split second later he followed.
Those in the lobby freaked out at the sound, the hostages scrambling away from the falling glass. One banger wasn’t smart enough, looked up and caught a face full of glass, and went down. The others opened fire at the chair, but missed in their shock. They didn’t even see Nightwing until he landed on the chair in mid-fall, kicking it at a 45-degree angle down into the face of the biggest of the bangers as hard as he could. The chair disintegrated when it hit, taking the man completely out of the fight.
Nightwing also released gas pellets as he fell, and the room soon filled with black smoke and light tear gas. He didn’t want to choke the hostages, but they’d survive. He angled his own fall into two more of the bangers, leaving only 4 conscious and able after his entrance. He’d expected five, hoped for three, so he was about even.
He threw his escrima sticks, removing two assault rifles from the duo closest to him, then pounced the other two who still had weapons. They hadn’t expected that, and they hesitated long enough for him to grasp the frame of a teller stand, swinging his body low just as they fired. The two unarmed thugs were in the line of fire, and scrambled quickly for safety, forgetting Nightwing.
The ones firing never got a chance to change their pattern, as Nightwing rolled up to them. A quick knee kick and a gut punch lowered one, and a spinning jump kick from a crouch broke the jaw and consciousness of the other. Dick didn’t stop to congratulate himself as he dove across a desk and landed both his heels onto the hands of one of the other thugs who was reaching for his weapon, snapping bones and then a cheek as he kicked the man unconscious.
That left just one target, and he thought better of attacking. He put his hands on his head and shook. Nightwing tied him up quickly, then did a quick survey of the room. The hostages were coming out of the woodwork, warily. The banger who had glass in his face was probably going to be severely scarred, but he’d live. The only thing left was to get the hostages to safety.
He drew a batarang from his boot, pressed a button on the side of it and hurled it at the front doors. The bangers had chained it closed from the inside, and the batarang lodged in the wooden door above the chains, where it released its cargo of acid, eating through the chains. As the hostages turned from the sight to the hero, they realized he was already gone.
When Nightwing got within a block of his meeting place, he was chewing himself out on the inside. Blast it! I’m late! Tim could’ve done better than that! Of course, he does carry a big stick… He hit the ledge on his hands, kicking his feet through the half-open window first, his hand tripping a sensor as he passed so that the window would close and lock. His butt hit the carefully arranged sofa just right to bounce him back up to where he could grab the chin-up bar bolted to the ceiling. He pushed off of his perch, landing lightly on the desk, spinning around and landing neatly in his desk chair, leaning back happily.
Well, until he overbalanced and nearly pitched himself off the back of the chair. Only a quick snag of the desk with his toe saved his dignity. Slamming back to the floor, he quickly entered a series of passwords and commands into his computer, and sat back in anticipation. Damn it! I missed her!
Frustrated, he took out a small beanbag he carried in his belt and tossed it at the stereo power button across the room. The soft throw turned the music on low. He tossed one escrima stick over his shoulder, hearing it bounce off the coffee table and land with a click on the remote control on the couch, turning the news on so he could listen to the reports on the attempted robbery. He used the other stick to reach across his desk from his chair to snag the handle of the insulated cup of coffee he’d arranged earlier, bringing it to his thirsty lips.
“And here I thought a highly trained martial artist like yourself would find better uses for his trinkets, Past Boy Wonder,” said a familiar voice suddenly. Dick barely managed not to spit coffee on his monitor as he looked up to see his girlfriend, Barbara Gordon, a.k.a. Oracle, staring at him from the screen.
Keying his mic, he said, “Hey, I’m a highly skilled tactician; I use what’s available to me for the best benefit. Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s ok, I see why on my screen. Nice work, very quick and efficient.”
“Jealous?” he teased.
“No, I can still take you.” She smiled and all the pains he sometimes felt in his battered body evaporated into his own smile.
“You always could.”
“You know, I really don’t have time for this, so pardon me if I make this quick.”
Nightwing’s escrima stick bounced off the wall beside the thugs head, slamming sharply into the nose bone, sending shards of bone and pain into the guys face, leaving him sliding to the floor unconscious. Nightwing retrieved the flying stick and took stock of his situation. He was on the second floor of the Bludhaven Bank and Trust, having worked his way down from the top floor. In just under 5 minutes he had dropped 16 punks, and from what one of them had told him under threat, there were only 8 more, all in the lobby. Good, he thought, I really don’t have time for anything dramatic.
He had been on his way to a very important encounter when he had picked up the activity here. Apparently some pseudo-militia gangbangers had decided on an evening withdrawal and had tripped a silent alarm. Lucky for them, the cops wouldn’t rush in for fear of the late-working hostages. Unlucky for them, Nightwing mastered his fear and made sure there were no victims.
He peered over the ledge of the huge plate glass window looking down upon the lobby. There were about 20 people gathered around the teller windows and loan officers’ desks, including the 8 bangers. Dick looked around, taking stock of his weapons and options, then smiled.
Let’s see Batgirl do this! He stepped back, pulling various small pellets from his costume and making sure his escrima sticks and batarangs were ready. He hooked his foot around the bottom of a wooden desk chair and kicked it as hard as he could at the window, demolishing the glass in a fantastic spray and a nerve-rattling crash. A split second later he followed.
Those in the lobby freaked out at the sound, the hostages scrambling away from the falling glass. One banger wasn’t smart enough, looked up and caught a face full of glass, and went down. The others opened fire at the chair, but missed in their shock. They didn’t even see Nightwing until he landed on the chair in mid-fall, kicking it at a 45-degree angle down into the face of the biggest of the bangers as hard as he could. The chair disintegrated when it hit, taking the man completely out of the fight.
Nightwing also released gas pellets as he fell, and the room soon filled with black smoke and light tear gas. He didn’t want to choke the hostages, but they’d survive. He angled his own fall into two more of the bangers, leaving only 4 conscious and able after his entrance. He’d expected five, hoped for three, so he was about even.
He threw his escrima sticks, removing two assault rifles from the duo closest to him, then pounced the other two who still had weapons. They hadn’t expected that, and they hesitated long enough for him to grasp the frame of a teller stand, swinging his body low just as they fired. The two unarmed thugs were in the line of fire, and scrambled quickly for safety, forgetting Nightwing.
The ones firing never got a chance to change their pattern, as Nightwing rolled up to them. A quick knee kick and a gut punch lowered one, and a spinning jump kick from a crouch broke the jaw and consciousness of the other. Dick didn’t stop to congratulate himself as he dove across a desk and landed both his heels onto the hands of one of the other thugs who was reaching for his weapon, snapping bones and then a cheek as he kicked the man unconscious.
That left just one target, and he thought better of attacking. He put his hands on his head and shook. Nightwing tied him up quickly, then did a quick survey of the room. The hostages were coming out of the woodwork, warily. The banger who had glass in his face was probably going to be severely scarred, but he’d live. The only thing left was to get the hostages to safety.
He drew a batarang from his boot, pressed a button on the side of it and hurled it at the front doors. The bangers had chained it closed from the inside, and the batarang lodged in the wooden door above the chains, where it released its cargo of acid, eating through the chains. As the hostages turned from the sight to the hero, they realized he was already gone.
When Nightwing got within a block of his meeting place, he was chewing himself out on the inside. Blast it! I’m late! Tim could’ve done better than that! Of course, he does carry a big stick… He hit the ledge on his hands, kicking his feet through the half-open window first, his hand tripping a sensor as he passed so that the window would close and lock. His butt hit the carefully arranged sofa just right to bounce him back up to where he could grab the chin-up bar bolted to the ceiling. He pushed off of his perch, landing lightly on the desk, spinning around and landing neatly in his desk chair, leaning back happily.
Well, until he overbalanced and nearly pitched himself off the back of the chair. Only a quick snag of the desk with his toe saved his dignity. Slamming back to the floor, he quickly entered a series of passwords and commands into his computer, and sat back in anticipation. Damn it! I missed her!
Frustrated, he took out a small beanbag he carried in his belt and tossed it at the stereo power button across the room. The soft throw turned the music on low. He tossed one escrima stick over his shoulder, hearing it bounce off the coffee table and land with a click on the remote control on the couch, turning the news on so he could listen to the reports on the attempted robbery. He used the other stick to reach across his desk from his chair to snag the handle of the insulated cup of coffee he’d arranged earlier, bringing it to his thirsty lips.
“And here I thought a highly trained martial artist like yourself would find better uses for his trinkets, Past Boy Wonder,” said a familiar voice suddenly. Dick barely managed not to spit coffee on his monitor as he looked up to see his girlfriend, Barbara Gordon, a.k.a. Oracle, staring at him from the screen.
Keying his mic, he said, “Hey, I’m a highly skilled tactician; I use what’s available to me for the best benefit. Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s ok, I see why on my screen. Nice work, very quick and efficient.”
“Jealous?” he teased.
“No, I can still take you.” She smiled and all the pains he sometimes felt in his battered body evaporated into his own smile.
“You always could.”
“Guilt”
Erik Fromme
7:00 am
The alarm blared as the digital clock switched from 6:59 to 7:00. As if it were part of his reflexes a hand shot out from underneath the covers and slammed the alarm so hard that it shook everything on the table with it. But the persistent buzzing stopped and Dick Grayson moaned as he turned his head to look at the time, as if he didn’t already know what it already was.
“Those late nights are getting worse,” he said aloud. “I swear it feels like crime went up after I came to the ‘Haven.”
Dick rolled out of bed, stood, and stretched his muscles, then twisted his neck and listened to it crack in sequence. “I need a vacation,” he commented as he made his first steps to the bathroom to take a shower.
8:00 am
Officer Dick Grayson pulled the time sheet from the punch clock, and slipped it back into the slot he got it from, and then began to make his trek to his desk. Conversation stopped as he walked past a small group of people, and they just stared at him. Dick could feel the eyes pierce him as he made his way down the office. I wonder what made me so popular? he thought.
Then he saw it, the empty desk that belonged to Tim Fencik, and guilt stabbed at him. I’m sorry, my friend. I keep going over it in my mind, how I should have protected you better. If it makes a difference to you, I did bring the Croc down. Dick shook his head to clear his mind, if only it were that easy.
What did clear it was a slap on his shoulder, and a woman’s voice. “Hey, partner. Ready to start the day?”
Officer Grayson turned around. “Hm? Oh sorry…” he said sheepishly. “Yeah, Amy, what’s our assignment today?”
Amy Rohbach looked at Dick. “What’s the matter?”
“Tim isn’t here, and it’s all my fault.” Dick pulled away from the hand on his shoulder, and for some reason wondered if Bruce felt this much guilt lately as it seemed; he turned colder by the day.
She walked around and faced her partner. “Dick, there isn’t anything that you could have done. None of us were assigned to work with Tim. He was alone. If you were there, who knows maybe he would be alive now, or you both could be dead. The fact is Dick; you weren’t there… Nightwing was there, and he let Tim die.”
The words stung more than they helped, but he tried playing it off knowing that Amy was just trying to help. Let it go Dick, you pursue this you might end up exposing yourself. Grayson looked down at his shoes, then back up to Amy. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just completely different for me now,” he grinned slightly, the first grin he managed in a long time. “Tim didn’t even get the chance to beat me in football.”
Amy knew that Dick was hurting, and she felt helpless to ease the man’s pain of loosing a friend. The entire department was hurting after his death. Amy knew that Tim was dirty, but she saw him trying to change over the last weeks of his life. Tim would have been a great cop.
“Come on, before the Chief has our asses for standing around all morning,” Officer Grayson said changing the subject and walking off with Amy double-timing it to keep up.
From across the room Chief Redhorn leaned against the inside of the doorframe looking at the pair as they left the squad. He looked over to a group of three cops who were glaring at them also, and he nodded once signaling them to follow Dick and Amy.
“The boss say why he wanted us to pressure that Grayson kid?” asked Inspector Mac Arnot, standing behind the Chief looking over his shoulder.
Chief Redhorn shook his head. “No, he was rather short in his orders, then he hung up,” he turned and walked back into his office, and sat in his chair. “Keep tabs on the tail, I want to know what Grayson and Rohbach are up to at all times.”
Inspector Arnot nodded and walked out.
5:15 pm
Dick Grayson pushed the door shut to his place and dropped the keys on his kitchen table as he walked passed to his bedroom. He quickly disrobed and fell onto the bed where he was going to take an hour power nap.
Outside his door an officer of the Bludhaven PD stood for a few seconds before walking away. He grabbed his radio and spoke into it. “He’s home…I’ll be outside.”
6:45 pm
Dick had only been up for roughly fifteen minutes, in that time he managed to throw together some left over noodles, with Swedish meatballs and brown gravy. He didn’t want to waste a minute of his time so he could spend more of his time with his girlfriend Barbara Gordon…even it were only over video.
“I’m telling you, Babs, things are getting weird in the PD. People are looking at me odd, and Amy and I were even tailed today.”
“Do you think that word has gotten around?”
Dick pulled the fork from his mouth. “I doubt it, but Blockbuster is pushing the buttons to make things harder. Even crime in the ‘Haven is going up, probably just to spite me. Today is another example of that.”
“What happened, Hunk Wonder? Going to need some back up again? Don’t bet on having the Canary again; I think she may try to move in on my man.”
“No, I should be fine by myself,” Dick said, not taking the bait. “Today we got assigned to a gang related crime. Report is a gang is trying to move into the area, and they’re knocking off the competition.”
“Sounds messy.”
Dick nodded at the monitor with Barbara’s face broadcast over it. “It was. Fortunately there were three people we suspect are connected to this new gang at the crime scene. They were leaving a calling card of sorts and we interrupted them.”
“The down side was that they’re kids. Kids dressed up like metas for some unknown reason. There was a Changeling, a Catman, and, oddly enough, a Nightwing.”
Babs started to laugh, almost choking on her food. “A Catman… Bruce would get a kick out of that one.”
“Yeah, let him know… He may even come across a few of them. Because they’re juveniles they’ll spend some time in Juvenile Hall, but I can see them released in a few days. One of them did mention Carson City, so I’ll check up on that later. Hopefully I can diffuse something before it happens.”
“I’ll keep my ears open just in case. Any more appearances by these children and I’ll let you know.”
8:00 pm
Dick Grayson stood in his bedroom pulling on his right glove, completing the Nightwing costume, as he prepared to take to the night as the vigilante. He walked to his window and pulled the curtain open only a fraction. Across the street he spotted the car that followed him and Amy all day.
“Looks like I’ll have to find another way out.”
9:00 pm
The Bludhaven officer sat in his car, bringing the coffee up to his lips as he glanced up at the window of Grayson’s place. The light was on, and nobody was home. Too bad he didn’t know that and would remain to sit there for the rest of the night watching an empty place.
7:00 am
The alarm blared as the digital clock switched from 6:59 to 7:00. As if it were part of his reflexes a hand shot out from underneath the covers and slammed the alarm so hard that it shook everything on the table with it. But the persistent buzzing stopped and Dick Grayson moaned as he turned his head to look at the time, as if he didn’t already know what it already was.
“Those late nights are getting worse,” he said aloud. “I swear it feels like crime went up after I came to the ‘Haven.”
Dick rolled out of bed, stood, and stretched his muscles, then twisted his neck and listened to it crack in sequence. “I need a vacation,” he commented as he made his first steps to the bathroom to take a shower.
8:00 am
Officer Dick Grayson pulled the time sheet from the punch clock, and slipped it back into the slot he got it from, and then began to make his trek to his desk. Conversation stopped as he walked past a small group of people, and they just stared at him. Dick could feel the eyes pierce him as he made his way down the office. I wonder what made me so popular? he thought.
Then he saw it, the empty desk that belonged to Tim Fencik, and guilt stabbed at him. I’m sorry, my friend. I keep going over it in my mind, how I should have protected you better. If it makes a difference to you, I did bring the Croc down. Dick shook his head to clear his mind, if only it were that easy.
What did clear it was a slap on his shoulder, and a woman’s voice. “Hey, partner. Ready to start the day?”
Officer Grayson turned around. “Hm? Oh sorry…” he said sheepishly. “Yeah, Amy, what’s our assignment today?”
Amy Rohbach looked at Dick. “What’s the matter?”
“Tim isn’t here, and it’s all my fault.” Dick pulled away from the hand on his shoulder, and for some reason wondered if Bruce felt this much guilt lately as it seemed; he turned colder by the day.
She walked around and faced her partner. “Dick, there isn’t anything that you could have done. None of us were assigned to work with Tim. He was alone. If you were there, who knows maybe he would be alive now, or you both could be dead. The fact is Dick; you weren’t there… Nightwing was there, and he let Tim die.”
The words stung more than they helped, but he tried playing it off knowing that Amy was just trying to help. Let it go Dick, you pursue this you might end up exposing yourself. Grayson looked down at his shoes, then back up to Amy. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just completely different for me now,” he grinned slightly, the first grin he managed in a long time. “Tim didn’t even get the chance to beat me in football.”
Amy knew that Dick was hurting, and she felt helpless to ease the man’s pain of loosing a friend. The entire department was hurting after his death. Amy knew that Tim was dirty, but she saw him trying to change over the last weeks of his life. Tim would have been a great cop.
“Come on, before the Chief has our asses for standing around all morning,” Officer Grayson said changing the subject and walking off with Amy double-timing it to keep up.
From across the room Chief Redhorn leaned against the inside of the doorframe looking at the pair as they left the squad. He looked over to a group of three cops who were glaring at them also, and he nodded once signaling them to follow Dick and Amy.
“The boss say why he wanted us to pressure that Grayson kid?” asked Inspector Mac Arnot, standing behind the Chief looking over his shoulder.
Chief Redhorn shook his head. “No, he was rather short in his orders, then he hung up,” he turned and walked back into his office, and sat in his chair. “Keep tabs on the tail, I want to know what Grayson and Rohbach are up to at all times.”
Inspector Arnot nodded and walked out.
5:15 pm
Dick Grayson pushed the door shut to his place and dropped the keys on his kitchen table as he walked passed to his bedroom. He quickly disrobed and fell onto the bed where he was going to take an hour power nap.
Outside his door an officer of the Bludhaven PD stood for a few seconds before walking away. He grabbed his radio and spoke into it. “He’s home…I’ll be outside.”
6:45 pm
Dick had only been up for roughly fifteen minutes, in that time he managed to throw together some left over noodles, with Swedish meatballs and brown gravy. He didn’t want to waste a minute of his time so he could spend more of his time with his girlfriend Barbara Gordon…even it were only over video.
“I’m telling you, Babs, things are getting weird in the PD. People are looking at me odd, and Amy and I were even tailed today.”
“Do you think that word has gotten around?”
Dick pulled the fork from his mouth. “I doubt it, but Blockbuster is pushing the buttons to make things harder. Even crime in the ‘Haven is going up, probably just to spite me. Today is another example of that.”
“What happened, Hunk Wonder? Going to need some back up again? Don’t bet on having the Canary again; I think she may try to move in on my man.”
“No, I should be fine by myself,” Dick said, not taking the bait. “Today we got assigned to a gang related crime. Report is a gang is trying to move into the area, and they’re knocking off the competition.”
“Sounds messy.”
Dick nodded at the monitor with Barbara’s face broadcast over it. “It was. Fortunately there were three people we suspect are connected to this new gang at the crime scene. They were leaving a calling card of sorts and we interrupted them.”
“The down side was that they’re kids. Kids dressed up like metas for some unknown reason. There was a Changeling, a Catman, and, oddly enough, a Nightwing.”
Babs started to laugh, almost choking on her food. “A Catman… Bruce would get a kick out of that one.”
“Yeah, let him know… He may even come across a few of them. Because they’re juveniles they’ll spend some time in Juvenile Hall, but I can see them released in a few days. One of them did mention Carson City, so I’ll check up on that later. Hopefully I can diffuse something before it happens.”
“I’ll keep my ears open just in case. Any more appearances by these children and I’ll let you know.”
8:00 pm
Dick Grayson stood in his bedroom pulling on his right glove, completing the Nightwing costume, as he prepared to take to the night as the vigilante. He walked to his window and pulled the curtain open only a fraction. Across the street he spotted the car that followed him and Amy all day.
“Looks like I’ll have to find another way out.”
9:00 pm
The Bludhaven officer sat in his car, bringing the coffee up to his lips as he glanced up at the window of Grayson’s place. The light was on, and nobody was home. Too bad he didn’t know that and would remain to sit there for the rest of the night watching an empty place.
“Girl Trouble”
Tobias Christopher
Robin was sitting on the rooftop, waiting for a gang to show up to break into the building across the street.
“You've got more patience than Bruce,” Nightwing said as he appeared behind Robin. “He'd be inside the building to take them down as soon as the door opens.”
“I want to actually catch them in the act,” Robin said. “These guys have gotten away too many times. What are you doing here, anyway? Aren't you Officer Dick Grayson tonight?”
“Got the night off, so I dropped by to get some take out for Babs,” Nightwing explained. “But since I'm here I might as well lend a hand.”
“Thanks,” Robin said. “How are you at relationships?”
“Girl trouble?” Nightwing asked. “Who's the lucky girl?”
“You mean girls,” Robin said as he looked through the binoculars. “I've kind of got a lot of girl trouble.”
“Do tell,” Nightwing said as he took a spot next to Robin.
“First of all, there's Spoiler,” Robin explained. “I like her and all, but since she found out I'm Robin, there's been a rift between us.”
“Who else?”
“Arianna,” Robin said. “I know we broke up, but I think I still have feelings for her. And now she's got a new guy, so that just makes things harder. Then there's Wonder Girl-”
“You and Cassie?” Nightwing asked. “I thought her and Superboy were an item.”
“It's complicated,” Robin said. “Sometimes I think that Cassie-”
Just then, they spotted the gang arriving and prying open the door to the electronics store.
“Showtime,” Robin said as he and Nightwing swung across the street. Before any of the gang could react, Robin had done a flying kick and landed one of them to the ground.
“What about you?” Robin asked as he punched one of the gang members.
“You want to know about my relationships?” Nightwing asked as he knocked two gang member's heads together. “Let's start with Babs, who is impossible to get to go anywhere anymore.”
“Can you blame her? She does have an important job,” Robin replied as he jumped, allowing one gang member to run into the wall.
“I think there's more to it than that. I think Black Canary's got the hots for me, so she might be a little jealous. Then there's Jesse Quick,” Nightwing said as tied two more members together.
“She's a bit fast for you, isn't she?” Robin asked as he punched out the final gang member.
“Very funny,” Nightwing replied as he and Robin rounded up the gang members for the police to pick up.
“Let's get back to my problems,” Robin said as they swung back to the rooftop just as the police arrived.
“Talk to Steph. Try to make peace. Maybe let her hang out with the Titans or something,” Nightwing said. “I think Arianna's a lost cause. At least while you're doing the Robin thing. And Wonder Girl? You're not the first Boy Wonder to have a crush on one.”
“You and Donna Troy?” Robin asked.
“It was way back when we were Teen Titans,” Nightwing explained. “We actually had a date at one point.”
“And?”
“You don't want to know,” Nightwing said. “Let's just say that we got interrupted halfway through dinner because of business.”
“You'll have to tell me that story sometime,” Robin said.
“Maybe later,” Nightwing said. “So, how are things with the new Titans team? I've been looking forward to meeting that Omni kid.”
“Things are better than they were with Young Justice,” Robin said. “I think that this team is more focused than YJ was.”
“You guys have matured since then,” Nightwing replied. “Just like the last Titans roster. A few of us have even been talking about...”
“So what should I do?” Robin asked.
“I couldn't tell you. That's something you have to figure out for yourself,” Nightwing said. “Come on, I'll let you buy dinner for me and Babs.”
“When Batman takes Impulse on as a sidekick,” Robin said.
Robin was sitting on the rooftop, waiting for a gang to show up to break into the building across the street.
“You've got more patience than Bruce,” Nightwing said as he appeared behind Robin. “He'd be inside the building to take them down as soon as the door opens.”
“I want to actually catch them in the act,” Robin said. “These guys have gotten away too many times. What are you doing here, anyway? Aren't you Officer Dick Grayson tonight?”
“Got the night off, so I dropped by to get some take out for Babs,” Nightwing explained. “But since I'm here I might as well lend a hand.”
“Thanks,” Robin said. “How are you at relationships?”
“Girl trouble?” Nightwing asked. “Who's the lucky girl?”
“You mean girls,” Robin said as he looked through the binoculars. “I've kind of got a lot of girl trouble.”
“Do tell,” Nightwing said as he took a spot next to Robin.
“First of all, there's Spoiler,” Robin explained. “I like her and all, but since she found out I'm Robin, there's been a rift between us.”
“Who else?”
“Arianna,” Robin said. “I know we broke up, but I think I still have feelings for her. And now she's got a new guy, so that just makes things harder. Then there's Wonder Girl-”
“You and Cassie?” Nightwing asked. “I thought her and Superboy were an item.”
“It's complicated,” Robin said. “Sometimes I think that Cassie-”
Just then, they spotted the gang arriving and prying open the door to the electronics store.
“Showtime,” Robin said as he and Nightwing swung across the street. Before any of the gang could react, Robin had done a flying kick and landed one of them to the ground.
“What about you?” Robin asked as he punched one of the gang members.
“You want to know about my relationships?” Nightwing asked as he knocked two gang member's heads together. “Let's start with Babs, who is impossible to get to go anywhere anymore.”
“Can you blame her? She does have an important job,” Robin replied as he jumped, allowing one gang member to run into the wall.
“I think there's more to it than that. I think Black Canary's got the hots for me, so she might be a little jealous. Then there's Jesse Quick,” Nightwing said as tied two more members together.
“She's a bit fast for you, isn't she?” Robin asked as he punched out the final gang member.
“Very funny,” Nightwing replied as he and Robin rounded up the gang members for the police to pick up.
“Let's get back to my problems,” Robin said as they swung back to the rooftop just as the police arrived.
“Talk to Steph. Try to make peace. Maybe let her hang out with the Titans or something,” Nightwing said. “I think Arianna's a lost cause. At least while you're doing the Robin thing. And Wonder Girl? You're not the first Boy Wonder to have a crush on one.”
“You and Donna Troy?” Robin asked.
“It was way back when we were Teen Titans,” Nightwing explained. “We actually had a date at one point.”
“And?”
“You don't want to know,” Nightwing said. “Let's just say that we got interrupted halfway through dinner because of business.”
“You'll have to tell me that story sometime,” Robin said.
“Maybe later,” Nightwing said. “So, how are things with the new Titans team? I've been looking forward to meeting that Omni kid.”
“Things are better than they were with Young Justice,” Robin said. “I think that this team is more focused than YJ was.”
“You guys have matured since then,” Nightwing replied. “Just like the last Titans roster. A few of us have even been talking about...”
“So what should I do?” Robin asked.
“I couldn't tell you. That's something you have to figure out for yourself,” Nightwing said. “Come on, I'll let you buy dinner for me and Babs.”
“When Batman takes Impulse on as a sidekick,” Robin said.
“The New Guy”
Richard Hill
Roland Desmond looked out from the second floor patio of his palatial estate; the view of Bludhaven during the night almost made the city look beautiful. Almost. Roland sipped on his glass of wine and counted the moments. Soon as simple a thing as a phone call would spell the end of the hero known as Nightwing.
The workers at Arkham Asylum wheeled their patient into the psychiatrist’s office. “Why does she have to break protocol anyway?” asked the first orderly. “Everyone knows he isn’t allowed out of that special plastic cell of his.”
The second orderly nodded in agreement, “The guys told me that this guy is so dangerous that he isn’t allowed to wear clothes or have anything to even sit on in his cell other than the floor. We aren’t even allowed to go within two feet of the air holes in his cell.”
The set down their dolly and an audible THUNK was heard as the heavy plastic backboard came to rest on the floor. Attached to the backboard was a man dressed in a black straight jacket and a hard plastic mask covered his mouth to protect the guards from being bitten. The man’s short brown hair was dirty, as if he hadn’t showered in a month, and across his face and body were several scars from numerous cuts.
“You may leave,” said a female doctor as she entered the office. Dr. Leslie Hocker had been at Arkham for nearly two weeks and in that time she had been able to make some major breakthroughs with the cases of Clayface, Two-Face, and The Ventriloquist. Now she was trying to crack the hardest nut in the building…Mr. Zsasz.
“Good evening Dr. Hocker,” Zsasz said from beneath his plastic mask, his smile half-hidden. “I will be forever grateful to you for letting me out of that awful cell, perhaps someday I will be trustworthy enough for you to meet with me without the need for all of these restraints.”
“The orderlies have been dismissed, Mr. Zsasz. I think that is trust enough for now, don’t you?”
“Certainly Dr. Hocker.” Zsasz sniffed the air, “Is that Moonlite perfume you are wearing?”
“It is, how perceptive of you,” she said writing in her notebook.
“My 73rd victim wore Moonlite perfume. I tracked her from her work to her boyfriend’s apartment. There she ate a dinner of chicken & rice, with a small salad dressed in vinegar and oil. They engaged in a brief sexual encounter, mainly using her mouth, and afterwards the boyfriend left for his night’s work. I used the opportunity to let myself in the bathroom window and found her asleep on the bed, curled up into the cutest little ball you have ever seen. She screamed like a banshee as my knife tore into her, I started with her elbows and worked my way down. I like to do that sometimes, unfortunately she died rather quickly once I went to work on her abdomen, and I lost my rush rather quickly. As a victim I would have to rate her as a 6, above average but nothing outstanding.”
Dr. Hocker’s jaw was on the ground; she had just listened to the confession of a lunatic, a man who didn’t care if she or the whole world knew he was a killer. He didn’t care because Mr. Zsasz couldn’t feel anything. His entire life he had felt nothing: no loves, no hate, no jealousy, nothing. Only when he was committing an act of murder did his heart start to race and his blood pump, only then did he feel alive. And after every single murder Mr. Zsasz would take his knife and carve a mark in his own flesh, just to feel that last rush. And it was Dr. Hocker’s job to cure this man of his mania so that he would be fit to stand trial for his countless murders and be sentenced to death. What was the point?
“Mr. Zsasz,” she said, “I think that we are a long way from ever having you released from your bonds.” She scribbled notes onto her pad as she spoke, when suddenly the sound of metal restraints hitting the floor made her look up.
“I think the way is much shorter than you think my dear Dr. Hocker,” said Zsasz. Leslie saw to her horror that he had freed himself from the straightjacket and as he slowly walked towards her she saw under his mask the sick smile forming.
“Stay back!” Leslie yelled and ran for her telephone. She slammed her hand down on the panic button on the phone, the orderlies would be here in seconds to restrain him, if Zsasz hadn’t pulled the phone cord out of the wall. “No, no, no, why are you doing this? Why me? Why?” she cried.
Zsasz reached around her and picked up a ballpoint pen, “Why, Dr. Hocker? It must be the perfume.”
As Zsasz began to carve into the young doctor, the orderlies down the hall talked about the money they received from their contact in Bludhaven. “I can’t believe they would want that nut job free, much less with them in Bludhaven,” said the first orderly.
“Hey man, the way I hear it, they’ll make certain he is kept under control. They want him for a job then they can have him,” the second orderly looked at his watch. “He’s had enough time, let’s go in their and tranq his sorry ass and make it look like he escaped through the doctor’s window. As they search for him, we’ll sneak him out through the laundry truck.”
“Oh yeah, the Joker escape. Man, we haven’t helped someone escape like that in months.” As the two orderlies entered the doctor’s office they found her broken and slashed body on the desk. Blood was splattered all over the walls. “Jesus! This guy’s sick,” but as the orderly finished his sentence the crazed Zsasz attacked them by dropping on them from the ceiling. Several swipes from his blade later and a new orderly with a small bloodstain on his uniform made his way for the laundry truck.
As Zsasz rode with dirty socks and bed sheets to freedom he found a small piece of paper in the pocket of his stolen orderly uniform. “What’s this here?” he asked aloud.
Deever Meat Co.
1812 S. Sherman Street
Bludhaven
8pm
Have security restraints in place and or all funds will be forfeit.
“Hmmmm, now who would want my presence in Bludhaven? I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Mr. Zsasz made vacation plans for Bludhaven.
“I hate this waiting thing,” grumbled Stallion. He and Blockbuster’s chief accountant, James Lucas, were alone inside the warehouse at 1812 S. Sherman Street. Their contacts were supposed to be delivering a special package to them and they were fifteen minutes late. “The damn Cowboys are playin’ tonight! I gotta go!”
“Patience, my friend,” said Lucas. “You know these men are slow witted, they may even have had trouble with the package.”
A shuffling of feet on concrete made them both jump and turn around. “Are you two waiting for me, or did you need some alone time?” asked a shadowed figure.
“Who the hell are you, mister?” asked Stallion
“I, sir, am Mr. Zsasz. And I think I am expected.”
Stallion pulled his two pistols out from their side holster. “Where are the two idiots from Arkham?”
Mr. Zsasz came fully into the light, his face and hands scarred in various places. Truth be told he had nearly 189 small scars on his body, all self inflicted, one mark for every person he had ever killed. “I am afraid those two gentlemen couldn’t make it. I am fulfilling their obligation by showing myself here at the requested time. I understand someone wants to see me.”
Lucas summoned his inner strength and stepped up to Mr. Zsasz. “Sir, I represent a powerful businessman in Bludhaven, and he would like to purchase your services for an upcoming venture,” Lucas’ voice caught in his throat, as he looked down and saw a knife stuck in the middle of his chest.
Zsasz smiled at him. “Do you remember how they used to teach young children to cross themselves in English churches? The children, as they grew older, had a little rhyme for it.” The knife started ripping up, down, left, right. “Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet, and Watch.” As Mr. Zsasz withdrew the knife, the innards of James Lucas saw the light of day for the first time as he collapsed to the ground.
Stallion stared in disgust and disbelief. Mr. Zsasz stepped toward him, “I didn’t like his voice. Why don’t you tell me who wants to see me and then we’ll go get lunch, okay?” As Mr. Zsasz spoke he pulled the knife across the back of his own neck making his 190th scar.
Roland Desmond looked out from the second floor patio of his palatial estate; the view of Bludhaven during the night almost made the city look beautiful. Almost. Roland sipped on his glass of wine and counted the moments. Soon as simple a thing as a phone call would spell the end of the hero known as Nightwing.
The workers at Arkham Asylum wheeled their patient into the psychiatrist’s office. “Why does she have to break protocol anyway?” asked the first orderly. “Everyone knows he isn’t allowed out of that special plastic cell of his.”
The second orderly nodded in agreement, “The guys told me that this guy is so dangerous that he isn’t allowed to wear clothes or have anything to even sit on in his cell other than the floor. We aren’t even allowed to go within two feet of the air holes in his cell.”
The set down their dolly and an audible THUNK was heard as the heavy plastic backboard came to rest on the floor. Attached to the backboard was a man dressed in a black straight jacket and a hard plastic mask covered his mouth to protect the guards from being bitten. The man’s short brown hair was dirty, as if he hadn’t showered in a month, and across his face and body were several scars from numerous cuts.
“You may leave,” said a female doctor as she entered the office. Dr. Leslie Hocker had been at Arkham for nearly two weeks and in that time she had been able to make some major breakthroughs with the cases of Clayface, Two-Face, and The Ventriloquist. Now she was trying to crack the hardest nut in the building…Mr. Zsasz.
“Good evening Dr. Hocker,” Zsasz said from beneath his plastic mask, his smile half-hidden. “I will be forever grateful to you for letting me out of that awful cell, perhaps someday I will be trustworthy enough for you to meet with me without the need for all of these restraints.”
“The orderlies have been dismissed, Mr. Zsasz. I think that is trust enough for now, don’t you?”
“Certainly Dr. Hocker.” Zsasz sniffed the air, “Is that Moonlite perfume you are wearing?”
“It is, how perceptive of you,” she said writing in her notebook.
“My 73rd victim wore Moonlite perfume. I tracked her from her work to her boyfriend’s apartment. There she ate a dinner of chicken & rice, with a small salad dressed in vinegar and oil. They engaged in a brief sexual encounter, mainly using her mouth, and afterwards the boyfriend left for his night’s work. I used the opportunity to let myself in the bathroom window and found her asleep on the bed, curled up into the cutest little ball you have ever seen. She screamed like a banshee as my knife tore into her, I started with her elbows and worked my way down. I like to do that sometimes, unfortunately she died rather quickly once I went to work on her abdomen, and I lost my rush rather quickly. As a victim I would have to rate her as a 6, above average but nothing outstanding.”
Dr. Hocker’s jaw was on the ground; she had just listened to the confession of a lunatic, a man who didn’t care if she or the whole world knew he was a killer. He didn’t care because Mr. Zsasz couldn’t feel anything. His entire life he had felt nothing: no loves, no hate, no jealousy, nothing. Only when he was committing an act of murder did his heart start to race and his blood pump, only then did he feel alive. And after every single murder Mr. Zsasz would take his knife and carve a mark in his own flesh, just to feel that last rush. And it was Dr. Hocker’s job to cure this man of his mania so that he would be fit to stand trial for his countless murders and be sentenced to death. What was the point?
“Mr. Zsasz,” she said, “I think that we are a long way from ever having you released from your bonds.” She scribbled notes onto her pad as she spoke, when suddenly the sound of metal restraints hitting the floor made her look up.
“I think the way is much shorter than you think my dear Dr. Hocker,” said Zsasz. Leslie saw to her horror that he had freed himself from the straightjacket and as he slowly walked towards her she saw under his mask the sick smile forming.
“Stay back!” Leslie yelled and ran for her telephone. She slammed her hand down on the panic button on the phone, the orderlies would be here in seconds to restrain him, if Zsasz hadn’t pulled the phone cord out of the wall. “No, no, no, why are you doing this? Why me? Why?” she cried.
Zsasz reached around her and picked up a ballpoint pen, “Why, Dr. Hocker? It must be the perfume.”
As Zsasz began to carve into the young doctor, the orderlies down the hall talked about the money they received from their contact in Bludhaven. “I can’t believe they would want that nut job free, much less with them in Bludhaven,” said the first orderly.
“Hey man, the way I hear it, they’ll make certain he is kept under control. They want him for a job then they can have him,” the second orderly looked at his watch. “He’s had enough time, let’s go in their and tranq his sorry ass and make it look like he escaped through the doctor’s window. As they search for him, we’ll sneak him out through the laundry truck.”
“Oh yeah, the Joker escape. Man, we haven’t helped someone escape like that in months.” As the two orderlies entered the doctor’s office they found her broken and slashed body on the desk. Blood was splattered all over the walls. “Jesus! This guy’s sick,” but as the orderly finished his sentence the crazed Zsasz attacked them by dropping on them from the ceiling. Several swipes from his blade later and a new orderly with a small bloodstain on his uniform made his way for the laundry truck.
As Zsasz rode with dirty socks and bed sheets to freedom he found a small piece of paper in the pocket of his stolen orderly uniform. “What’s this here?” he asked aloud.
Deever Meat Co.
1812 S. Sherman Street
Bludhaven
8pm
Have security restraints in place and or all funds will be forfeit.
“Hmmmm, now who would want my presence in Bludhaven? I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Mr. Zsasz made vacation plans for Bludhaven.
“I hate this waiting thing,” grumbled Stallion. He and Blockbuster’s chief accountant, James Lucas, were alone inside the warehouse at 1812 S. Sherman Street. Their contacts were supposed to be delivering a special package to them and they were fifteen minutes late. “The damn Cowboys are playin’ tonight! I gotta go!”
“Patience, my friend,” said Lucas. “You know these men are slow witted, they may even have had trouble with the package.”
A shuffling of feet on concrete made them both jump and turn around. “Are you two waiting for me, or did you need some alone time?” asked a shadowed figure.
“Who the hell are you, mister?” asked Stallion
“I, sir, am Mr. Zsasz. And I think I am expected.”
Stallion pulled his two pistols out from their side holster. “Where are the two idiots from Arkham?”
Mr. Zsasz came fully into the light, his face and hands scarred in various places. Truth be told he had nearly 189 small scars on his body, all self inflicted, one mark for every person he had ever killed. “I am afraid those two gentlemen couldn’t make it. I am fulfilling their obligation by showing myself here at the requested time. I understand someone wants to see me.”
Lucas summoned his inner strength and stepped up to Mr. Zsasz. “Sir, I represent a powerful businessman in Bludhaven, and he would like to purchase your services for an upcoming venture,” Lucas’ voice caught in his throat, as he looked down and saw a knife stuck in the middle of his chest.
Zsasz smiled at him. “Do you remember how they used to teach young children to cross themselves in English churches? The children, as they grew older, had a little rhyme for it.” The knife started ripping up, down, left, right. “Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet, and Watch.” As Mr. Zsasz withdrew the knife, the innards of James Lucas saw the light of day for the first time as he collapsed to the ground.
Stallion stared in disgust and disbelief. Mr. Zsasz stepped toward him, “I didn’t like his voice. Why don’t you tell me who wants to see me and then we’ll go get lunch, okay?” As Mr. Zsasz spoke he pulled the knife across the back of his own neck making his 190th scar.
“Buddies”
Richard Hill
August 21st, 2006
Dick Grayson waited with bated breath for the perfect moment, “Now,” he cried aloud. His cat like reflexes pushed several oddly marked buttons and an audible groan was heard from his opponent.
“Not again, I don’t get it, you always kick my ass at Madden Football,” said Tim Fencik.
“Hey,” Dick said, “don’t blame me if my shifts leave me with little paperwork and lots of free time to practice on my Playstation 2. Besides, this is only the third game I’ve played against you. There’ll be plenty of other games that I’m sure you’ll clean my clock at, like NHL 2002.”
“But it’ll only happen once,” said Tim as he reached for a bottle of water in the fridge. “You know my girlfriend won’t let me stay glued to this thing for very long, so I’ll have to beat you before the newness wears off.”
“You think your girl is tough on you, mine sometimes makes me jump through hoops, literally!” Dick said referring to Barbara Gordon, aka Oracle.
“You know what we need to do?” asked Tim. “We need to grab the girls and take them upstate to a bed and breakfast or something. I never get to see Allyson enough and from what you say about Barbara, she could probably use the getaway.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Dick said. “But that does sound fun, we can plan it later in the year, like in November. We’ll do it right before Thanksgiving and surprise the girls. I haven’t met Allyson yet and Babs is new to both of you so it could be fun hanging out for a couple of days and not worrying about work.”
“Why don’t we set it up for November 20th and 21st? That’s a Tuesday and Wednesday and nothing major will be happening on anyone’s schedule,” Tim said.
“Not a problem,” Dick said as he reached for his coat. “I have to run, I’ll call you later tomorrow and we’ll work out all the details. See ya later buddy.”
Tim waived goodbye, “Bye pal.”
November 21st, 2006
As a cold rain fell from the night’s sky, Nightwing stood over the grave of Tim Fencik.
“See ya later, buddy.”
This issue is dedicated to Officer Tim Fencik of the Bludhaven Police Department
Timothy R. Fencik
Beloved Son
Brother
Officer of the Law
And Friend 1975 – 2006
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. And a huge thank you goes to special Guest Writers Clayton Tooley, Tobias Christopher, David Brashear, and Erik Fromme. Your stories were greater than I had hoped and made this issue feel more fun than I thought possible.
Richard
Previous Issue | Next Issue
August 21st, 2006
Dick Grayson waited with bated breath for the perfect moment, “Now,” he cried aloud. His cat like reflexes pushed several oddly marked buttons and an audible groan was heard from his opponent.
“Not again, I don’t get it, you always kick my ass at Madden Football,” said Tim Fencik.
“Hey,” Dick said, “don’t blame me if my shifts leave me with little paperwork and lots of free time to practice on my Playstation 2. Besides, this is only the third game I’ve played against you. There’ll be plenty of other games that I’m sure you’ll clean my clock at, like NHL 2002.”
“But it’ll only happen once,” said Tim as he reached for a bottle of water in the fridge. “You know my girlfriend won’t let me stay glued to this thing for very long, so I’ll have to beat you before the newness wears off.”
“You think your girl is tough on you, mine sometimes makes me jump through hoops, literally!” Dick said referring to Barbara Gordon, aka Oracle.
“You know what we need to do?” asked Tim. “We need to grab the girls and take them upstate to a bed and breakfast or something. I never get to see Allyson enough and from what you say about Barbara, she could probably use the getaway.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Dick said. “But that does sound fun, we can plan it later in the year, like in November. We’ll do it right before Thanksgiving and surprise the girls. I haven’t met Allyson yet and Babs is new to both of you so it could be fun hanging out for a couple of days and not worrying about work.”
“Why don’t we set it up for November 20th and 21st? That’s a Tuesday and Wednesday and nothing major will be happening on anyone’s schedule,” Tim said.
“Not a problem,” Dick said as he reached for his coat. “I have to run, I’ll call you later tomorrow and we’ll work out all the details. See ya later buddy.”
Tim waived goodbye, “Bye pal.”
November 21st, 2006
As a cold rain fell from the night’s sky, Nightwing stood over the grave of Tim Fencik.
“See ya later, buddy.”
Timothy R. Fencik
Beloved Son
Brother
Officer of the Law
And Friend 1975 – 2006
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. And a huge thank you goes to special Guest Writers Clayton Tooley, Tobias Christopher, David Brashear, and Erik Fromme. Your stories were greater than I had hoped and made this issue feel more fun than I thought possible.
Richard
Previous Issue | Next Issue