Issue# 10, Oct Yr. 2

"Another Death in the Family"

By Rory O'Sullivan

---

There would be an alarm system, he decided from his vantagepoint in the tree. Motion sensors, infrared beams and the like. He dug around in his pockets until he found a pair of IR goggles, that he swept across the weed-ravaged lawn of Wayne Manor. Sure enough, a complex grid of light presented itself.
He'd have to be very careful.

---

Terry McGinnis tired of the new Clark Kent bestseller quickly. Unlike his last novel, this one was a bit farfetched for Terry's tastes. He smiled. A city in a bottle? Come on.
He decided to take a stroll through Wayne Manor, lit as it was by sparkling moonlight. It was a fantastic evening, one he'd decided to enjoy as quietly as he could. He strode through the great corridors, exploring room after room, each one huge and gothic, bathed in light from monstrous windows. The building was a mansion in every sense of the word, immense and imposing. And particularly moody at night.
Suddenly, he found himself face to face with a wall, in an unfamiliar part of the Manor. On the wall was a decaying old poster, from what Terry judged to be at least thirty or forty years ago. It bore a shimmering logo, that of the 'Flying Graysons,' and pictured three hand-painted acrobats surging through the air in an incredible display of agility.
Grayson... Where had he heard that recently?
"Terry." Bruce Wayne stalked into view, wavering slightly as he too saw the poster.
Terry's expression was quizzical. "Bruce... You've mentioned a Grayson... Dick Grayson... a few times. What's the story on this guy?"
Bruce took a long breath, staring out the window across the overgrown lawn. "Dick was my first sidekick. Robin. I took him in when his parents died, raised him. He fought by my side for years. Eventually, he went his own way. Became Nightwing."
"Nightwing." The name was vaguely familiar, as if he'd skipped past it in some encyclopedia somewhere. "So... where is he now?"
Bruce's chest tightened, and he sucked in another long, deep breath. "It was... God, it must've been thirty years ago. On a night just like this..."

---

He was suddenly thirty years younger, in the prime of his life. There was actually hair beneath the stifling cowl. And though what he did for a living was grim and gritty, it had yet to faze him.
Which was why he found some measure of enjoyment in catapulting across the night sky. He was alive, he was young, and he was among friends.
To his left soared Barbara Gordon, Batgirl, a rookie he kept around only because the fire in her eyes reawakened his own passion for crime fighting. To his right, stirring the air, was Nightwing, the boy he'd raised to manhood, the continuation of a legacy too big for any one man.
The trio touched down atop one of the sleeker skyscrapers in Gotham City's industrial district. Below, sirens blaring, a swarm of squad cars rocketed past, while above a pair of police helicopters circled gently.
Nightwing took in his surroundings as he'd been trained, in one cursory glance. "Okay, we're here," he stated, leaning into the wind. "Now can you tell us what's going on?"
Batman sank into a crouch, his eyes sweeping the street below. "The high rise just across the street, the WayneCorp Chemical Laboratory. It received a bomb threat this afternoon."
Nightwing ran an eye along the building's outline. "Damn. If that thing blows, it'll take out half the new two-lane highway behind it..." He gulped. "Two-lane highway... Bruce, did you check---"
"I checked. Two-Face was paroled two days ago."
"Then this is no idle threat," Batgirl contributed. "It's one of his psychotic plans."
Batman nodded. The squad cars had the Lab surrounded now, bathing it in blue-and-red light. Police commissioner Gordon walked among them, agitated, looking skyward.
That was their cue.

---

The basement floor was completely covered in a tangled mesh of copper wire. The wires snaked into the thick wads of Semtex secured to every second support pillar. Two-Face surveyed his henchmen's handiwork, smiling his lopsided smile. It would be a good day to wage terror and destruction.
He assembled his men before him, half a dozen in all, to give them their last instructions. They were to plant a transmitter pencil in each of the explosive wads, transmitter pencils he controlled from a remote detonator on his belt. They scurried off to do his bidding, and he strolled up into the lobby to have a look around.
The police had turned off the electricity, and he walked in darkness, darkness not unlike that of Arkham Asylum. He was completely comfortable in shadow, and strolled nonchalantly about.
As he passed the main entrance, he noticed a silhouette at the door. A SWAT officer was carefully easing a crowbar into the automatic portal. Two-Face smirked, and tossed a coin into the air. The coin returned scarred side up, and he smirked even more forcefully. He twisted a double-barrel sawed-off shotgun into play, and fired at the cop without reservation.
There was a gust of wind and a telltale 'swoop,' and the cop disappeared from view. In his place, inside the door, stood Batgirl, confident, jaw set and eyes afire.
"Cute," Two-Face muttered through clenched teeth. "When do I get the full version?"
Batgirl didn't bother to respond, not wanting to waste wit on this psychopath. She charged, nimbly somersaulting over his obligatory shotgun blast. She landed on one knee, and swung a leg out to send the villain toppling forward---
---into the waiting arms of the Batman.
Nightwing smiled, leaning against the corridor wall, as the Dark Knight wrapped Two-Face into a half Nelson. "Nice try, Harv. You'll do better next time, huh?"
"Brat!" Two-Face spat, swatting at his captor. Eventually, he succeeded in driving a heel into Batman's shin, and following up with a series of elbows to the ribs. He squirmed free of the vigilante's hold, and brought the shotgun to bear on the costumed assembly. "You can't win! You can't defeat me this time!" He was on the verge of hysterics as he turned and darted into a conveniently open elevator.
Even as Batman surged forward to block the door, the villain was clambering up through the elevator roof, and out onto the ladder that led up the shaft.
"C'mon, let's get him!" Nightwing barked, but Batman seized him by the shoulder.
"If you were going to blow this place up, where would you put the bomb?"
"In the basement," Nightwing responded, and nodded. "Okay. Batgirl and I'll get to it."
Batman signaled affirmative, and shot up the elevator wall into the shaft. With powerful thrusts he ascended the ladder, closing on the madman three floors above.
They both exited on the top floor, the main laboratory. Two-Face skidded past workstations and racks of chemicals, every now and again firing his shotgun over his shoulder. The aim of a psychotic criminal was nothing for the Dark Knight to be worried about, and he followed doggedly.
Two-Face wheeled to a stop when suddenly faced with a concrete wall, and, like a caged animal, he struck out, firing both barrels at once.
Batman, too, was ill prepared for the sudden turn of events. He had little to no time to dodge. His fingers flitted in and out of his utility belt, loosing a batarang into the air.
The batarang solidly connected with the first shotgun shell, shattering as it deflected the lethal projectile. The second shell plowed into Batman's side, and he cried out as he fell.
Two-Face would've been overjoyed at the fall of his foe, but he barely noticed. His eyes were busy tracking the first shell as it ricocheted and bounced, first from the wall to the ceiling, then to a vat of chemicals above him. Suddenly, there was slimy green ooze coursing down the middle of his face, one that seared the skin. He screamed, and began running about aimlessly, finally plunging his head into a sink. His body went slack as the water cooled and relaxed his aching flesh. Slowly, tiredly, he righted himself. He caught only a glimpse of his reflection in the stainless steel faucet, but it was enough to know his world would be forever changed.

---

Nightwing was instantly weary as he entered the main lab, his nerves on edge because of the silence. "Batman?" he called, eyes sweeping the room. "We disarmed the bomb. Batgirl's downstairs giving the police the all clear. Where's---"
A low moan sent the young vigilante into a run, fear gripping him. He turned a corner, and found Batman spread-eagled on the tile floor, blood pooling at his side. "Bruce!"
The younger man knelt quickly, and took stock of his mentor's vital signs. Batgirl appeared at his side. "Dick, what---"
"Get the paramedics up here!" Nightwing began gently slapping Batman's cheeks. "C'mon, Bruce, come around. Where's Two-Face? Where's Two-Face?"
Batman's eyes flitted, but remained shut. Slowly, however, he raised a hand, and gestured weakly at a great plate-glass window.
Nightwing's thoughts were a whirlwind of concern and rage, but he sorted them out deftly to deal with the situation at hand, and took to the window. Outside, traffic roared past along the two-lane highway. Barely distinguishable was a lone form sprinting for one of the support pillars that held an overpass in place. Nightwing swore, and shoved the window open, producing a grappling hook as he did so. Somewhere in the background, he was aware of new voices, paramedics and police. He paid them no heed, but took to the air, soaring downward in a graceful arc that put him ten meters behind the villain.
Two-Face glanced back, cursed, and began to run faster. Nestled in the crook of one arm was a half a pound of Semtex he'd kept around for just such a contingency. As he ran, he jabbed a transmitter pencil into the explosive, and tossed it at the base of one of the pillars. Then he fumbled through his coat pockets for the detonator. Where had he put it? He came up with his scarred coin, tossed it aside in his haste, then realized his error, and stopped dead. He needed that coin. How was he going to make decisions without the coin? Absently, he produced the detonator as his eyes scanned the ground. The roar of traffic overhead was deafening, but he was entirely focused on finding that piece of silver.
Nightwing threw himself into a diving tackle, connecting solidly with Two-Face's waist. They both fell, and fell hard, rolling in the gravel under the overpass.
And somewhere during the fall Two-Face's elbow was jolted, and his thumb depressed the detonator switch.

---

Batman had just been hoisted into an ambulance when a low rumble could be heard, followed by screaming. The Dark Knight was alert at once, though his heart was sinking fast. He tore free from his restraints, and stumbled around the corner of the Chem Lab to take in the explosion.
His eyes watered as the highway collapsed. He began to run as best he could, and in moments he was atop the rubble, his fingers numb as they sifted through it. Finally, he found what he'd been afraid of.
He found the body.

---

Terry sank against the wall, jaw agape. "He... died?"
Bruce nodded. "Yes. Yes, that was a sad day." He swallowed, and looked away for a long moment. "Well, now you know the story." The old man retreated into the shadows of the Manor, and Terry did his best to absorb the tale.
He never got the chance. The sound of shattering glass, followed by a series of alarms, prompted him to bolt down the hall after Bruce, into the main parlor.
A bulky silhouette stood at the window, slowly advancing. Terry observed the scene from the doorway. Bruce's shoulders were squared, and he looked ready to defend himself.
The silhouette stepped into the light, and Bruce's entire being seemed to sag. "You!" he whispered.
Terry's eyes widened, and he turned away.

TO BE CONTINUED...