DC Infinity - The next step in the evolution of DC Comics Fanfiction

Issue #3

"Nothing ventured."

There are some things people just can't leave well enough alone. For one person it may be their baseball card collection. For another it may be their obsession with their career. For Dick Grayson, the scion of the night, it was his car.

Can't believe I've gone this long without rebuilding it , Dick had thought.

His wife mentioned offhandedly one day that it looked like a pissing contest between Dick and his mentor, Bruce Wayne. "If Bruce has two retrorockets, you have to have three. If Bruce revs his engine, you take out the muffler. Boys with your toys."

It wasn't that Dick felt the need to one-up his mentor, he had moved out from under Bruce's shadow long ago. It was more like he wanted to maintain the equality between them. After the Crisis last year, Bruce had taken him and Tim Drake on a trip that was designed to help the three of them find both themselves and each other. The journey had taken all of them to a new level. Before, Dick and Bruce regarded each other as kindred spirits, even though Bruce was the mentor and Dick the student. Now it was more like they were professors at the same college - equal coworkers. They still had their differences, but now it felt like that could talk things out easier.

Although, he had to admit, it did put a smile on his face to know he could take a turn sharper than the Batmobile.

Bruce's sleek car was much faster than his own was, but when it came to maneuverability, Dick had the advantage. Bruce's vehicle also had a lot more gizmos than Dick's, but he made up for it with camouflage. He had always thought the Batmobile stuck out like a sore thumb and hindered their investigations. Dick's street machine had interchangeable covers such as a squad car, taxicab, and a brown, dented muscle car (his favorite). He had to completely rebuild the vehicle recently, but he enjoyed the work.

Hopping rooftops while chasing down a neighborhood looter was fun, but sometimes you just need a car. Now was one of those times. His motorcycle worked well when he needed to get somewhere fast, but it stood out too much. When he was investigating a case, he really needed to blend in more if he was tracking something through the city.

Dressed in his Nightwing uniform, Dick pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor, causing the massive engine to lunge forward and take the rest of the car with it. The night lights of Gotham blurred slightly as he sped down the streets. He need not worry about being picked up for speeding: the car was invisible to radar thanks to a special paint coating the exterior of all the shells for the car.

"Love that purr," said Nightwing. "Maybe I ought to name you. 'Wingmobile.' No? Okay, forget that."

Nightwing sharply turned the wheel and sent the car shooting down Winick Avenue . Since his move to Gotham , he had been riling up the local gangs in an effort to flush out the big boys. He knew Oswald Cobblepot had his hands in someone's cookie jar, he just had to figure out whose. A smalltime group of thugs called the Alphas usually could be found lurking around Winick Avenue and Nightwing had decided to pay them a visit.

"Nightracer," Nightwing muttered to himself. "No. Sounds like a bad television show."

Winick Avenue was one of the few streets that cut through a large section of South Gotham . Because of the estuary, a lot of the roads turned, broke off, or melded with other roads and made convoluted loops. Winick Avenue was one of the fastest ways to get across town. The Alphas had claimed it for their own and were trying to charge a toll to use a certain section of it.

"Autowing.aww, I give up."

Nightwing's nameless vehicle slowed down as it approached where Winick was vivisected by Larsen Street . This was the intersection the Alphas usually tried to shake down motorists. No cars rolled down the paved street tonight. No one was out driving in this area this late anymore thanks to the Alphas. No one except Nightwing.

Seeing his car coming, a few people dressed in black seeped out of the shadows and into the street, right in Nightwing's path. He slowed down and came to a stop about twenty feet in front of four individuals.

"What a piece of junk," said one of the figures. The others laughed in response as they eyed up the dented muscle car.

"Let him pass, Big Dog?" another figure said to the first who spoke. "Don't look like he can afford the toll." More laughter from the peanut gallery, some of which were slowly coming out of an alley. There were maybe thirteen altogether, although Nightwing couldn't be sure. It didn't matter much. There could have been three dozen and he still would have felt completely safe behind the armor plating of his vehicle.

"No one gets a free pass from the Alphas," Big Dog said. "Everybody pays."

If this is how they shake down drivers , thought Nightwing as the gang started to approach, this is going to be easier than I had envisioned.

He decided to start off simple. He might get lucky and just frighten the gang off. Nightwing didn't intend to apprehend them tonight but instead just let them know they shouldn't be doing what they were doing. They were just kids acting stupid. If he was really lucky, the Penguin would catch wind of what happened and get the message that all gangs, big and small, were being looked at carefully.

Under the car's chassis, a thin black rod lowered and extended in front of the vehicle. High pitched sonics bombarded the thugs' ear canals, causing them to double over and grip their heads. The directional sonic emitter under Nightwing's car was having no trouble playing havoc with the gangs' inner ear functions. A few of the thugs even fell to their knees and vomited onto the pavement.

There are times when I really hate my job , Nightwing thought. Tonight, however, is not one of them. I better be careful, lest I become some kind of sadist.

Because it was directional, the sonic emitter only targeted the people Nightwing wanted it to. There was no chance he was waking up someone inside a nearby apartment building, or even catching a stray bystander on the sidewalk. The device could melt the earwax in a perp's ear at a hundred feet at its high setting, but right now Nightwing was content to just teach the thugs a little humility.

"Still better than Macy Gray," Nightwing said.

After a few more moments of earsplitting sonic emissions, Nightwing turned off the device and switched it over the loudspeaker function. He grabbed a CB intercom and spoke to the thugs through the sonic emitter.

"Party's over boys. Time to head home. Leave now and I'll promise not to come after you."

A few stood and hobbled down the street. Big Dog shook his head and motioned for the remaining four other thugs to come to his side.

"You're the one who's going to be leaving!" hollered Big Dog. "This is our street, our turf! We fought to get it and we're keeping it!"

So we'll do this the hard way then , Nightwing thought.

The sonic emitter retracted back to its place under the car. The gang slowly took a few more steps closer, now brandishing weapons they had been hiding somewhere in the folds of their baggy clothing. Nightwing just shook his head, unimpressed.

Metal baseball bats, crowbars, and even bullets all slammed into the armor paneling of the vehicle. The shatterproof glass that made up the windows withstood the assault as well. All of their efforts were futile. It would take a lot more than a Louisville Slugger to penetrate this monster's hide.

Watching them from the inside, Nightwing rolled his eyes after allowing an entire clip to be emptied from one of the gunmen. He leaned forward and flipped a switch on the dashboard that sent 5,000 volts of electricity coursing through the frame of the vehicle. It only lasted a split-second and wasn't powerful enough to do any serious harm, but the hair on the ends of the thugs hands was definitely singed.

The only ones who didn't get shocked were the two wielding handguns. They stared in awe as their comrades stumbled back from the brief electrical assault, unsure of their balance.

"Oh, hell no." said Big Dog, his . 45-calibre pistol falling to his side. "Is Batman in there?"

"I dunno man, but I don't wanna find out," replied the other gunman. No sooner had his sentence finished than he was facing the opposite direction and running at top speed, leaving Big Dog to face the mysterious driver all by himself.

So much for loyalty , Nightwing thought.

It was hard enough trying to maintain control over a bunch of street punks without having masked vigilantes come a'knocking. Sometimes Big Dog even had to beat the tar out of one of his own gang members just to keep the reins of leadership. His gang had fled, but if he didn't at least try to do something, there was no telling how many people he would have to fight in order to remain the Big Dog he claimed to be.

"Man, why you got to hide behind your car, man?" Big Dog yelled. "Afraid to take on the leader of the Alphas, huh? Little man, hiding in his car. Come on out!"

Nightwing slid back the enlarged sunroof and slowly stood up in his seat. The white eyes of his mask stared down the gang leader. In the moonlight, shadows slipped over Nightwing's form, making him appear more like a dark wraith than a man. The only thing Big Dog could see clearly was the cold, unforgiving whiteness of Nightwing's eyes. Criminals a lot tougher than Big Dog had been broken by his stare.

"Wha-what you gonna do, huh? Come on, I'm standing he-I'm standing here."

Nightwing's gaze remained targeted at the thug.

"You want to roll? Yeah? Come on then! B-bring it!"

Nightwing tensed his muscles, ready to spring just in case the thug tried to squeeze off a shot. He waited, holding his stare.

Big Dog mumbled a few more words that Nightwing couldn't make out. After a few more hearbeats, Big Dog dropped his gun and ran in the direction his fellow street punks had gone. Looking down at the dropped weapon, Nightwing could have sworn he saw stray light shimmer against a small puddle right where Big Dog had been standing.

Good way to start a night , Nightwing thought as he bounded out of his automobile to pick up the dropped handgun.

He tossed the firing pin and bullets into a nearby storm drain and the handgun on the passenger seat of his vehicle (he would drop it off at the local police precinct later). He slid the enlarged sunroof back into place and shifted out of park. The engine roared as Nightwing went careening back on down Winick Avenue .

He hadn't gotten far before the communicator in his ear chirped to life.

"What's up, Oracle?"

{{Having a good night, lover?}} said the strong, feminine voice of Nightwing's wife/information broker Barbara Grayson, also known as Oracle.

"I think I just made the leader of the Alphas pee himself, so yeah, it's a good night."

{{Always nice to know,}} Oracle replied with a little chuckle. {{Look, I've got our batty friend on the line with an urgent message. I'll patch him through.}}

After a brief cackle of static, another deeper, distinctly male voice spoke into Nightwing's ear. The voice was one he knew all too well. It was that of his mentor and compatriot, Bruce Wayne.

Oh boy , thought Nightwing. I know what that means .

Over the last two months, someone had been frequenting the Gotham rooftops just as much as Nightwing. It started with smalltime thugs and more recently turned into corrupt officials, all of whom had received severe beatings. All attempts to track him had led to dead ends.

The whole situation bothered Nightwing but he knew it bothered Bruce even more. Nightwing may be staying in Gotham , but the city was Bruce's home. If Bruce said they had a problem, it had to be serious.

"The mysterious Gotham vigilante has struck again, hasn't he?"

{{Two nights ago, Joshua Milton, CEO of Milton Solution, was found in the alley behind his company's building,}} Bruce said. {{He had three fractured ribs, a broken arm, two puncture wounds, and a collapsed lung. He was dead on arrival at the hospital.}}

"Nasty. Our guy did all that? Why?"

{{ Milton was suspected of insider trading. Hours after Milton died, a file with all the evidence necessary for a conviction was delivered by courier to the police.}}

"He's gone over the edge," Nightwing said. "When are you coming back to Gotham ?"

{{I can't. I'm.busy with some operations here. I need you to handle this.}}

"WHAT?" Nightwing pulled his vehicle over and shifted it into park. Emotions and thoughts were swirling around inside of his head and he didn't want to be distracted.

{{I understand what you're feeling, but it needs to be done. Take him down as soon as possible. This has gone on long enough. A man is now dead and that is unacceptable.}}

A tiny click signaled that the communiqué had been ended.

"Unbelievable!" Nightwing yelled. He threw the car back into gear and floored the gas pedal. The vehicle roared down the street, tires squealing.

"After everything we went through to get to where we are, and he does this! 'No longer uptight' my ass."

The sudden sound of Oracle in his ear caught Nightwing off guard, causing him to miss a gearshift. He recovered quickly by downshifting to the appropriate speed and continued along his route.

"Hey, sorry. Didn't realize you were still on the line."

{{You may not believe this, but after listening in to your conversation, I think I may have figured out our guy's route.}}

"How did you manage that?"

{{Well, we've recorded everywhere he's struck and figured out the kinds of people he's targeting. Milton Solution is along the river, not far from the center of the city. What we haven't done until now is check the times of the occurrences alongside the locations. It looks like the mysterious vigilante starts on the outside of the city and works his way in.}}

"Wait," Nightwing said. "Joshua Milton's company was inside the tallest building in Gotham , right? I remember reading about it. The main offices were in one place, but they owned other buildings to store merchandise in. Overlay all the businesses of the people our guy's attacked with a map of the city and then see if all of them have been hit."

A brief pause and a few keystrokes later and Oracle was able to verify Nightwing's theory. {{Everyone that had the crap beaten out of them had their businesses ransacked as well. Milton 's company had their offices torn apart, but they also own a warehouse at the corner of Baker and Michael. Given the time it is right now and the pattern he displays, our vigilante is probably close to it right now.}}

"Thanks," Nightwing sighed. "On my way."

Nightwing mulled the question over before answering. "I guess. What gets me is that this is supposed to be his city, you know? This is his legacy and his town we're dealing with here. I'll help and do whatever I can, he knows that. But for a guy whose entire life has been about taking responsibility, he seems like he's really going against the grain these days."

{{You know how passionate he is. He's doing what he thinks is best for his crusade. You know he wouldn't entrust you with something like Gotham if he didn't think you could handle it.}}

"Oh, I don't doubt that he trusts me. I just can't believe he doesn't want to take this guy out himself. This is his city. This is something he should be doing."

{{He probably does want to,}} Oracle responded. {{But being knee-deep in all things Checkmate really takes a toll on a person's free time. You know how Checkmate operates: the job comes first. Being Batman just isn't part of Bruce's job anymore.}}

"It would be nice if I could contact him instead of just waiting for him to call. He never leaves their compound that I'm aware of."

{{Yeah, I know it must be frustrating.}} There was a small level of apprehension in Oracle's voice, as if she was holding back something from her husband. Nightwing was too distracted at the moment to pick up on it though.

"Our marriage would be on the rocks if you never left the Nest, that's for sure," Nightwing joked.

{{What's your ETA for the warehouse?}} Oracle asked.

"Six minutes. Nightwing out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Batman crouched down over the warehouse's biggest skylight. Not many warehouses had skylights anymore. Too many had been broken into and the owners figured that the skylights were an easy way to get into their buildings. The Dark Knight could have gotten in any number of ways, but why not take the easy road? No alarms would be set off anyway.

The building in question, which sat at the corner of Baker Street and Michael Lane , was suspected of housing illegal firearms. The weapons were being smuggled into the city, stored at this warehouse, and then moved to the next stop in the tour. Sort of an Underground Railroad for weapons trafficking.

Batman removed an entire windowpane from its housing and gently set it on the roof. Attaching a high-composite cable to the skylight, he slipped into the building, dangling from the line in the dark. Silently he dropped to the floor and made his way to a stack of crates to inspect their contents.

Pulling out his electrically charged baton, Batman smashed open one of the crates, causing the illegal weapons to clatter onto the concrete floor.

"Pay dirt," he said, smiling. The owner had a lot to answer for now.

Mr. Milton was illegally moving something other than stocks it would seem , Batman thought.

A light flicked on in the office across the warehouse. Two figures moved down the steps from the room and drew their issued handguns, pointing them at the Dark Knight.

"Freeze!" the first one hollered.

"Yeah, hold it!" chimed in the other one. He took out his long flashlight and shined it on the broken crate and then at Batman.

"Holy crap!" the second man said. " Gary .that's the Batman! What the hell is going on here?"

"Uh...well.what do we do now?"

"You say cheese while I crack your skulls open," said the man dressed as Batman. In one fluid motion he was on top of the first security guard, baton pulled back to land a crippling blow.

Red flashed before Batman's eyes as pain suddenly coursed through his right hand. He dropped his baton but refused to cradle the hurt hand like it was an infant. He had felt worse pain, even in his childhood. The security guard squirmed out from under him and took off for the nearest exit. The guard's partner, who had always been told by his wife to not be a hero, followed him.

"What the hell--" Batman said. He heard something roll across the concrete at his feet and bent over slightly to make out what it was. Glistening in the soft, ambient light from the streetlights was a white escrima fighting stick, rolling back in the direction from which it had been thrown.

Batman lifted his gaze to meet that of another. The opposing figure bent down to pick up the escrima, its twin in his other hand.

"Enough is enough," Nightwing said. "Your tenure in Gotham City is finished. I don't know who you are or why you feel the need to dress up like someone you're not, but I know one thing for sure: you are not Batman."

"You found me. I'm impressed. I don't impress easily."

"Who are you?" Nightwing asked. The way this man carried himself looked familiar, as did the energy baton he had knocked loose from the imposter's hand.

"Who am I? Who am I?" the man repeated. He seemed to be asking himself the question as much as he was directing the sentences at Nightwing. "We both know I'm not Batman but that's not the only thing we have in common. I would bet that neither of us knows who's under this mask at all. Not really, anyway. I've stared at myself in the mirror for quite a long time and I can only come up with one thing: I wasn't always so nice to people. There's a dark side of me begging to get out, and you know what? I kind of like it."

"You have amnesia?"

"Perhaps," he replied. "More like a mindwipe. Your friends that so arrogantly look down upon us from their orbiting clubhouse aren't too friendly at times. I remember certain things about who I used to be and what I needed to do. It was like I woke up and found out I was someone else."

Nightwing could feel the pit of his stomach hit the floor. "Take off your mask. Now."

"As you wish," the man sighed.

The Dark Knight's cowl slid off easily enough, but it looked heavier.bulkier than the real Batman's. Once the man's face was unobstructed and the light bounced into the warehouse just right, Nightwing could make out his features. He recognized the face from Bruce's files and now some things made sense, like the weapon he had knocked out of his opponent's hand. Standing before him was one of the few people on Earth who could honestly say he had beat Bruce Wayne in hand-to-hand combat. Nightwing finally forced the name of the man before him through his lips.

"Prometheus."

"Prometheus?" he said, again donning the Batman mask. "That name popped up in my head, too. Sounds familiar. Maybe I'll go ask around about it after I pummel you."

"You're welcome to try."

"Alright, pigeon," the pretender said as he picked up his baton from the floor. "I took down the whole JLA once, you know? I remember doing that.sort of. Sure you're up to the task?"

"I'm more than a match for you."

Let's hope I'm right , Nightwing thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writer's Nest

Confused? Don't worry, I'm sure you aren't alone. Why is Prometheus dressed up like Batman? I'll dive into the full story next issue, but to figure it out for yourself, check out DCI's JLA and Checkmate series. We've worked very hard here at DC Infinity to make all of our series 'mesh' story-wise. Trust me, everything is in order!

So can you guess what's coming up in the next issue? A big crazy fight you say? Lots of martial arts and back flips? You better believe it! How could I not dedicate a whole issue to this big fight? See you next issue for the conclusion to this story arc, which will help to catapult the new DCI Batman title!

-D. Golightly

5/18/06

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