Dick Grayson didn’t know what he had missed most regarding his life as Nightwing. The wind calling to him? The night’s energy flowing through him? Maybe it was even the smell of the constant Bludhaven sewage back up. Either way he was glad to be back in black, roof walking. The demands of the Bludhaven police department’s newest recruit, Richard Grayson, have left little room for his evening pursuits of late. It was Barbara’s request to test out a few new field gadgets she had designed that gave Dick the excuse he needed to get out and kick a little ass.
Bradley towers, the two tallest buildings in Bludhaven, had no roof access from inside the building due to a particularly security conscience architect with more paranoia than money. A prefect place for a masked vigilante to set up surveillance and store some equipment. Dick pulled out the secured chest he had managed to keep hidden there, unlocked it with his thumbprint and removed the sat-lenses. They were something Oracle designed from a request made by Jean Paul Valley while wearing the bat suit. State of the art molecular imagers no bigger than contact lenses. Designed to fit in a cowl or mask, Barbara had placed them into a custom set of binoculars with hand held controls in the way of dials in the hand grips much like the lenses on a camera. Interlinked with a satellite boosted data stream, looking through them was nothing like looking at all. It was more like looking through the eyes of architects, engineers, designers, professors and countless other “subject” experts while possessing their knowledge at the same time. Dialing up the exact type of data you wanted changed the view you saw when you looked inside the eyepiece.
Placing them over his head, Dick activated the unit with a snap hiss of energy and a soft blue glow. Making a three hundred and sixty degree turn on the roof he viewed his city with the goggles set on a general setting. Data streaming up the left edge of the left eye piece and then down the right edge of the right eye piece, super imposed over his view of the city, gave him information on the weather, population, geographic location and more. Turning to Bludbay he changed the data selections and the information began to instantly modify to chemical make up, percentages, wildlife, and pollution of the ocean.
“Nightwing the botanist.” Came an electronic voice through the micro-com unit stuck in his ear.
“You can see this Oracle?” Dick asked.
“The satellite link includes a piggyback transmission to my station.”
“This thing is awesome. Accept there is way too much data here. Not even Batman can process all of this fast enough to make use of it in an emergency.” Dick changed the information stream again, looking for something a little more useful regarding crime fighting. “Can I save pre requested information streams and then get back them quick?”
“Way ahead of you tough guy.” The view inside the goggles went green as Barbara took over the controls and the data stream changed again. Now real time crime, traffic, weather and other reports where filtering in in quick bursts. There was even a window for a video feed, which Barbara was using to provide snippets of the evenings network news. “These are actually Robins settings, plugged into my Bludhaven portion of the network, but you get the idea.”
“Cool. How can…”
“I just need a good hour or two alone with you.” The video feed changed to Barbara’s face, grinning wickedly.
“I think that can be arranged.” Dick smiled back even though he knew that Barbara couldn’t see his face. Or at least, he didn’t see how she could.
“Oops. Play times over.” The video feed changed again. Now it showed a black and white video camera, which looked like it was anchored to the front bumper of a moving vehicle.
“What the hell.” Even an acrobat could get sick from a view like that.
“It’s a surveillance camera mounted beneath a Bludhaven police cruiser.”
“looks like they are being out run by some kid, on foot” Dick tightened the scope on the incoming data stream, knowing that the latest Robin’s selections where going to be very advanced. “Oracle, will this thing tighten up for presenting me data solely based on the current pursuit?”
“No. Maybe if I had your selections, but not in its present mode.”
“Then its no good to me.” Dick began to take it off, looking forward to getting his hands dirty, when Barbara’s face showed up again.
“However, the pursuit is leading right too you. If you change to an urban real time selection at point nine…”
“Later.” Dick stated impatiently as he took off the sat lenses. He placed them down in the chest and tossed out a jump line, leaping off of the tower before it had even connected with its target.
“Nightwing be careful, that kids probably flying high on red wave.”
Even thought he didn’t answer Barbara was comforted by hearing her comrade breathe steady and strong in his com unit. Barbara knew that Nightwing was in the midst of some attack on the night it self made up of impossible gymnastic feats. She also knew that he was listening to her every word and processing what she said nearly as well as any satellite, while doing six other things a second. It was something she tried not to think too much about.
“It’s the latest designer drug to hit the streets. Canary was the first to run into it in Seattle. It comes complete with an intense hallucinogenic high, enhanced reflexes, strength and stamina which turns its host into a delusionary Superboy. It’s also one hundred and ten percent psycotropicly addictive.”
“A Superman drug. Shit.”
On the street things were quite. Evening strollers, con artists, hunters and their prey; no one noticed a black clad figure bounce off of the Hilton Theater to land atop a bus. Not even the bus passenger, who slept soundly with his nose buried in a book and his ears under a set of headphones. The traffic wave stopped for a red light and Nightwing saw the pursuit weave through the traffic that now had the right of way moving in front of him. A young boy, or maybe even a girl in tattered clothes but brand new shoes ran ahead of the police cruiser and up over a yellow cab with such speed and ferocity that he/she spider webbed the back and front windshields.
Nightwing sprung from the bus and flipped through a triple to land atop the centerline of Madison Avenue. Pulling out all the stops he ran flat out into the moving traffic just missing a red Volkswagen’s rear bumper as he spun left onto the center line of 58th Street, traffic in motion all around him. The pursuing police cruiser, now just a couple yards away from him, swerved within its lane. The driver wanted desperately to move freely without restrictions just like the pedestrian they where chasing.
There was noise all around him. Automobiles, pedestrians, drivers, signs and even his own internal monologue combined to make a chaotic chorus that he simply ignored. Instead Dick Grayson paid closer attention to a rhythm. The rhythm of the moments flowing into one another to make an action and then a reaction. A reliable energy source, Batman had taught him long ago that it would work with him or against him. It was nearly indescribable, ironic since it was shared by so many.
The passenger in the police cruiser slid out of his open window and began shouting at the top of his thick lungs. His hands white knuckling his service pistol. “Get that little bastard.”
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The cop fired blindly into the traffic that engulphed them. Nightwing stepped up onto the rear bumper of the police cruiser, placed his hands down on the white trunk for leverage and kicked out at the shooting cop. The toe of his boot breaking the fat mans nose, forcing off his hat, splitting his lip and spraying blood over the car. On the roof of the cruiser Nightwing pulled the cop up onto it. Beneath him the bleeding cop tried desperately to kick out at his attacker but the young man in black rendered him immobile with a knee on the right thigh and a quick punch to the solar plexus. Inside the driver was screaming and fighting to stay on the road. Nightwing new that he only had a few seconds.
“Stop Firing! You moron.” Before he could ask the cop a question the cruiser swerved right and spun out instantly blocking traffic in all directions. Nightwing saw the kid make it safely to the south side of the street before his vision was blurred when the driver of the cruiser skidded attempting to avoid the yellow cab. Other cars scattered, some even crashed while Nightwing vaulted off of the cruiser onto a Honda Shadow motorcycle. The rider was loosing control as Nightwing landed and the extra weight helped to pull the bike back down to the ground and scrub off a tremendous amount of the speed the rider had accumulated just moments before while trying to weave through a gap in the accident. As the bike skidded to a stop leaving a long black streak of rubber on the road the driver looked over his shoulder giving Nightwing a brief glimpse of his masked reflection in the helmets face plate before he dismounted and continued the pursuit on foot.
The young kid ran left onto Tucker heading east. Nightwing followed, rushing through a crowd of onlookers like a fullback on Astroturf. The kid with the enhanced reflexes took a flying leap, arching over the street to land onto the second level of a rickety fire escape. Nightwing flipped the internal selector for his mask to a thermal enhanced visual. The kids heat structure was super hot, blinding white light. It was red wall all right, what little Dick had read on the drug said that the final stage of the high was a thermal heat explosion that left the user exhausted for days afterward. This chase was coming to a close, one way or another.
Leaping over the bed of a Toyota pick up that passed beneath him, Nightwing landed on his feet just as the buildings north wall began to crumble raining brick and mortar down on the street. He had seen both Batman and Superman deal with situations like this with there capes. Nightwing wouldn’t wear one. Instead he hunched up in a ball using his hands to protect his face and head. He pieced together the protective portions of his costume like a life saving jigsaw puzzle. The arm gauntlets protecting the top of his head, the two piece staff protecting his ribs and the shin gauntlets pulled up to cover his chest and stomach while he leaned into the shadows and rested up against the decaying building.
Just before coming up out of his protective position he took a deep breath and closed his mouth to keep from breathing in the brick dust that had to be floating in the air. Looking up to find his prey Nightwing witnessed the fire escape come completely loose from the building and begin its decent. People inside the building and on the street were no doubt screaming, but the night’s rhythm was crystal clear. He summer salted across the concrete beneath him and came out up on his feet in a flat run across the street dodging pieces of brick and mortar that still fell from the sky and skidded around on the black top.
Up against a building across the street Nightwing witnessed the fire escape crash to the sidewalk and sigh in a cloud of dust. Quickly he made a situation assessment to find that no one was hurt in the immediate vicinity. “Oracle, get the paramedics to 58th and Tucker. The city engineers are going to need a clean up crew out here as well. Better contact the red cross, an entire building crumbled out here.”
“I’m on it. Are you ok?”
“Everything but my ego.”
His prey was gone. Still, Nightwing climbed to the top of the bludweisen brewery and took a quick look around. He didn’t see his prey, but there was something. He decided to make a patrol and then double back to the Bradley towers to use the sat lenses in his search putting them to a real test.
* * *
“Your late.” Grumbled Sgt. Amy Rohrbach, training officer to rookie officer Richard Grayson. “That doesn’t look good. Especially on your evaluation day rookie.” Rohrbach opened the driver’s door to their squad car but didn’t get in. “You drive.”
“Yes ma’am.” He stated and climbed behind the wheel. Today was the end of his performance evaluation period. His had even been extended an extra week at his training officer’s request. She had to hand in a report on him by shifts end and Dick couldn’t remember a single thing he had done to show her that he was a good cop, much less impress her. Not even the Dennis Quaid smile, which had never failed him.
“When you miss your briefings you…”
“Take beatings. I know.” Dick finished the old saying for her. He had only missed that one, but true to form of the last three weeks she wasn’t giving an inch. “I’m sorry sarge, it couldn’t be helped. You want to fill me in.”
“Two or Bludhaven’s worst caused an eight car pile up and destroyed nearly a city block last night as they chased down a junkie like a dog escaping from the pound.” Dick waited for any information about Nightwing but none followed. His presence was either left out of the report or it was a subject his training officer didn’t feel like discussing. Her tone regarding her fellow officers that had been involved in the pursuit led him to believe the latter.
“I swear, if Gotham hadn’t of fell when it did I would have been lieutenant by now. Where the hell are we going Grayson?” Rohrbach straitened in her seat to look right at him, bringing her self back to the moment at hand.
“I got a tip on a hold out room.” Dick smiled as he used police jargon that he was sure Rohrbach didn’t know he knew. That didn’t impress her either. “Thought we could check it out on my last day.”
“What do you know about hold out rooms?”
“Designed before the war to hide illegal immigrants, the buildings that still posses them have been bought up by legitimate front companies to house everything from stolen goods to kidnap victims. I also know that most of the legitimate officers on the pd believe that there are still some that no one knows about.” Rohrbach looked spooked. Dick didn’t know if she was finally impressed or disgusted. Even if she was impressed, did she think that he got his information from legitimate sources or illegitimate ones?
“What have you got?” She asked calmly.
“Ever heard of red wall?” Dick nosed their cruiser around a small fender bender that two other officers had all ready stopped to work out. One was drinking from a bottled beer while on the radio to central. Rohrbach looked like she could climb out and shoot both of them on the spot if her day had started off any worse.
“Red what?”
“Red wall, it’s a designer drug that’s hit the streets our here. I did a little research this morning and I found out that the junkie from last night sounds like he/she might have been on it. If that kid was on it, maybe he/she can lead us to the Bludhaven supplier.”
“It appears you did get briefed this morning after all.”
* * *
Dick stopped the cruiser two blocks up from the Christianson Monolith. Once intended to rejuvenate Bludhaven’s quickly depleting tourist draws, It’s million dollar budget turned into the city’s worst financial decision ever and the project was halted after only fifteen of the fifteen hundred levels where built. The contractor slapped a roof on it and sold it at a loss. Rumors of all kinds had surfaced ever since about the construction of the top level, which if finished would have actually been the thirteenth level that sat above ground, a level that never existed on any of the official plans. Nightwing had used the sat-lenses to discover that not only had the building’s top floor been recently remodeled, it had been reinforced for world war three as well.
“I don’t know where you get your information from rookie but you had better hope it’s a legitimate source.” Rohrbach looked him square in the eyes as the two climbed out in front of a large multi use building with shops on the street level that housed lofts and apartments above. On the front you could read what used to be the name of the building; Christianson.
“They say Macey’s once bought an option to set up shop in here once.” Rohrbach stated. Two blocks over, Dick briefly noticed the Bludwiesen brewery and stifled a grin. No reason for Nightwing to get all the credit, he thought.
“Its the fifth floor between rooms five sixteen and five eighteen.” Dick waited to enter the building.
“Its your show rookie.” Rohrbach urged him forward. Dick thought about speaking up about calling for back up but there probably wouldn’t be any, and if there were they would be the two-man squad car they had passed earlier. Drunk back up was worse than none at all. Loosening the strap locking down his service pistol he led the charge into the building.
Inside the long dank hall opened up on countless abandoned shops. Some where boarded up, others open for some resemblance of business. None where prospering. Two people slept in the halls with the rats and the trash. Rohrbach waited while Dick checked the elevator to see if it really was out of order like the sign read and then the two took the stairs to the fifteenth floor. The fifteenth floor was a little different. It had been cleaned up and remodeled, just as Nightwing’s investigation had uncovered. Fresh paint and bleach blond hardwood floors edged with oak and cedar lined the halls. An island of humanity in a sea of lost souls. Unless you knew what to look for, or had special equipment, you wouldn’t have even known it existed. Dick could see that the new turn of events where all ready going a long way to prove his theory in Rohrbach’s eyes.
The two officers stopped between five sixteen and five eighteen to regroup. Dick put a stop to his urge to come in from the fire escape. His uniform shoes would be useless out on the ledge anyway.
“Well?”
“I’m betting only one room is going to have access to the hold out room.”
“That fits. Which one rookie?”
“Eighteen.” Dick stated after a moments debate. He wished he could use the sat lenses now.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
Just then the hall lights dimmed and the door to eighteen opened up with a soft beautiful blond holding on to the doorknob. She appeared in a satin dress and held a small silver pistol in her left hand. A large purple bruise engulphed her right eye, which was all puffy from obvious tears. Rohrbach reacted first by drawing her pistol and pointing it at the blond.
“Freeze police.” She stated calmly and coldly. The blond looked amazed to see the small black opening of the barrel on the tip of the gun so close to her face.
“What are you guys doing here? You’re not supposed to bee hear!” The blond screamed as if the presence of the police was the last thing she had expected or needed.
“Who lives here?” Dick asked.
“Jimmy Duke.” The blond croaked out. The silver pistol still in her hand.
“Drop the gun!” Rohrbach shouted.
Before she could get an answer a loud scream came from within five eighteen. “Suzie!” Bullets followed the scream. Large caliber bullets came buzzing through the walls of the hallway out between the two police officers. Things had escalated to full blown war, something that the inhabitants of five eighteen where no doubt more prepared for than the police. Dick found him self wishing for a couple of batarangs and some room to maneuver. Old habits do die-hard.
Dick was down on the floor first, pulling Rohrbach down with him. On the way down she fired three shots at chest level into the center of the wall, which was probably the living room. Dick Grayson kicked out the blonds, Suzie’s, legs from beneath her and she tumbled to the floor but not before being shot by the screaming maniac still in five eighteen in the midst of a berserker rage. Grayson pulled out his weapon and aimed it at the open door of the apartment trying to find a new rhythm. It felt cold and dangerous in his hands. He swalowed hard on the knot in his throat from the possibility of having to use it and what that meant.
“Get down!” Rohrbach screamed in mid fall to the floor.
The screaming maniac came out into the hallway, a large submachine gun in his hands, the breach forced open now that the gun was empty and the barrel smoking from his attack volley.
“Put the gun down!” Rohrbach and Grayson both shouted in unison.
The screaming maniac did just that. He dropped it and followed it to the floor beside the dying Suzie. It was a powerful sight to see such a large man sobbing and crying. Dick was up, feet apart, his gun aimed square at the screaming maniac who was most likely Jimmy Duke. Rohrbach kicked away the submachine gun and picked up the small silver pistol that Suzie had held. It possessed a strange weight in her hand and she pulled the trigger producing an arching flame from the barrel. It was a lighter.
“Jesus.” She mumbled.
Dick Grayson cuffed Jimmy Duke the screaming maniac and pushed him to the floor, he wasn’t much of a hassle in his present condition.
The two officers filed into the room to find a continuation of the ground floor hallway. If the fifteenth floor was an island of humanity in a sea of filth, then five eighteen was its core made of urban garbage. It was all a front. Men and women of all ages occupied the dark corner so stoned on red wall that they where not and could not be considered a threat.
Through a hole in a wall, laying open to any onlooker, they found the junkie from the other night, a young boy who was counting small red pills. The pill he was holding was given the number five hundred and eighteen. Another pill was picked up from the pile and giving the same number and tossed into a clear plastic bin. This went on and on. Each pill was given the same number as if the boy had over heated with red wall and couldn’t come up with anything more than that. Rohrbach pulled out her radio and called in the collar that Nightwing had given to Dick Grayson.
The End.
