Read Codes and Barriers before this. Please. It's too complicated to explain, and you won't get the story.
Warning: Minor cussing, very intense plotline, not for the faint of heart, etc., etc., blah blah blah, and explosions.
Lots and lots of explosions. They're my favorite.
PART ONE
BOOTING SYSTEMS...
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SYSTEMS SUCCESSFULLY REBOOTED. UPLOADING MEMORY FILE...
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MEMORY FILE UPLOADED. SCANNING FILES.
0.001% COMPLETE.
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29.82% COMPLETE.
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57.98% COMPLETE.
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100.00% COMPLETE.
SCANNING SYSTEMS.
CHIP 1990-3432-8720 IS NOW ONLINE.
PSYCHOLOGICAL/PERSONALITY SYSTEMS ARE DISABLED.
ABLING SYSTEM.
PSYCHOLOGICAL/PERSONALITY SYSTEMS ARE ONLINE.
RECOVERING DATA...
DATA RETRIEVED. SORTING DATA NOW.
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DATA SORTED.
IT'S RELAXING, REALLY.
IT'S ALMOST NOSTALGIC.
I CANNOT FATHOM A LIFE WITHOUT MY EXPERIENCE AS A CO-WRITER IN CODES AND BARRIERS AND, NOW, IN ERRORS AND DREAMS.
OR, AS THEY WERE ORIGINALLY CALLED, RIFT VOLUMES ONE AND ITS COUNTERPART, ONE-POINT-FIVE.
I STILL REMEMBER THE EARLIER DAYS, WHEN LITTLE ONE HAD APPROACHED ME, WONDERING HOW TO GET OVER SOME TRAUMA—I NEVER THOUGHT SUGGESTING WRITING IT DOWN WOULD BE SO USEFUL.
BUT, I SUPPOSE I'M GETTING OFF TOPIC. I'M NOT HERE TO REMINISCE. I'M HERE TO INTRODUCE YOU TO MY NEW WRITER.
IT'S NOT LITTLE ONE—OR, AS YOU MAY RECALL HIM AS, WALLY WEST—BUT RATHER, A LAST MINUTE ACQUAINTANCE.
SAY HI.
~...~
HM? SOMETHING THE MATTER?
~YOU SAID THAT THIS WOULD LET ME REDEEM MYSELF.~
I DID. AND I MEANT IT.
~... ALRIGHT THEN.~
~HI.~
GREAT.
NOW LET'S FINALLY GET STARTED, SHALL WE?
/breakline initiate\
WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT, PEOPLE PANIC.
I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE REASONING.
TO BE FAIR, YOU HUMANS RELY SO HEAVILY ON SIGHT THAT YOU'RE NOT MUCH TO LOOK AT WHEN IT'S GONE.
HOWEVER, I AM FASCINATED BY THIS ONE HUMAN. YOU SEE, SHE HAS BEEN ON EDGE ALL NIGHT. SOMETHING HAS BEEN BOTHERING HER. SOMETHING HAS RUBBED HER THE WRONG WAY.
SHE SITS, TENSE IN HER CHAIR AT THE WATCHTOWER. IT'S HER SHIFT TONIGHT, AND SHE WATCHES THE MONITORS CAREFULLY WHILE THE REST OF THE LEAGUE SITS FLOORS AWAY IN A TENSE MEETING.
SHE REACHES OVER FOR A SNACK BAR THAT SHE SUDDENLY CRAVES FOR, A SIDE EFFECT OF PREGNANCY.
HER NAME IS DINAH LANCE.
YOU KNOW HER AS BLACK CANARY.
SHE IS A VERY STRONG INDEED.
SO WHEN THE LIGHTS SUDDENLY GO OUT, SHE DOES NOT PANIC.
HOWEVER, SHE KNOWS THAT SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT.
SHE SILENTLY PULLS OUT A SHEATH FROM THE INSIDE OF HER COAT, HER FIGURE IMMEDIATELY CROUCHING INTO A BATTLE STANCE. SHE LISTENS, WAITING FOR THE SOUNDS OF SOME KIND OF ATTACKER.
HER EYES ADJUST TO THE DARKNESS. HER STIFF SHOULDERS RELAX SLIGHTLY.
NOTHING WRONG HERE.
NOTHING AT ALL.
SHE FROWNS, HER EYES DARTING AROUND THE ROOM AS IF EXPECTING SOMEONE TO LEAP OUT AT HER.
BUT NO ONE DOES.
THE TIP OF HER BLADE MOVES DOWNWARDS, AND HER TENSE STANCE UNCOILS SLOWLY.
SHE BITES HER LOWER LIP.
SILENCE.
SOMETHING BREATHES DOWN HER NECK.
BEFORE SHE CAN EVEN MAKE A SOUND, THE HISSING SHADOW WRAPS AROUND HER.
HER SCREAMS ARE MUFFLED.
HER BLADE SWINGING, SHE ATTEMPTS TO CUT THE MONSTER OFF OF HER.
NOTHING WORKS.
SILENCE.
NOTHING WRONG HERE.
NOTHING AT ALL.
HER BLADE CLANGS AS IT HITS THE GROUND.
SOON, SHE IS GONE. NOT A SINGLE TRACE OF THE STRONG WOMAN REMAINS.
AND THEN THE LIGHTS TURN BACK ON.
/breakline initiate\
[~Two Years Before:]
[Date: January 12th, 2010.]
[Location: Unknown.]
He is gasping for breath. His lungs are burning, and his legs are cold to the point of being numb. Waves rock his body from side to side, making him sick.
Hours before, the Source had wrapped him into a hug just before he disappeared. And just after the creature was gone, he was pulled out of the Code dimension, landing in the huge body of water. He isn't sure what name it belongs to, but he knows that there is no sign of anything—no cities, no docks, no ships—leaving him to his own devices.
His eyes burn as the salt water invades his closed eyelids, and he chokes as it rubs the back of his throat raw. He isn't in his Robin costume anymore, and he isn't sure where it went—perhaps it sank to the bottom of the ocean.
Shuddering as another cold wave sends him tumbling under the water, he flails as he tries to break the surface again for air. His lungs are aching from the lack of oxygen, and his chest is quivering. He needs to take in a breath, but he's still underwater...
When he finally manages to come back for air, he frantically wipes the water out of his eyes. He's gasping again, and heavily, while his ears are filled with water. When it clears, he hears muffled noises.
Voices?
And then he notices the small ship that is right by his side. It is small and camouflaged, which is why he hadn't seen it before...
A hand grips his shoulder and pulls him onto the cold hard deck, and then a warm blanket is wrapped around his small form. It isn't that large, but neither is he, so it covers most of him. He shivers as he feels the soft fabric brush against his quivering shoulders, absorbing the droplets of water that clings to him. His hair drips as he curls into a ball, suddenly self-conscious of the many eyes that are glued to his pale, naked form.
"What the hell..."
It's a woman's voice.
"We were ordered to bring back anything interesting... Do you think a kid in the middle of the pacific ocean counts?"
There is humming, and then he shivers again—though this time, for a very different reason.
He suddenly doesn't feel very safe anymore.
"We'll see what Ra's thinks about it."
/breakline initiate\
[Present Day]
[Date: November 21st, 2012.]
[Location: Unknown.]
Dick's only been called by two names during his time with the League of Shadows. The first is his given name, Nightwing. It was one that Ra's had agreed to almost immediately, seeing as Robin had ended up playing the "I have amnesia" card that had let him slip away without giving a name.
The second, however, is a name he managed to pick up when he was acquainted with a boy his age. He was another one of Ra's' apprentices—well, the only other one excluding Nightwing, that is. The boy was Romanian—Nightwing's Romani origins, while extremely different, had a faint similarity to it—which eventually sparked the name "Prieten." It's a nickname that Nightwing slowly grew fond of as the other boy showed him around the League of Shadows and told him the best way to get out of things alive—and how to help others without getting caught.
Unfortunately, the boy—his name was Opal Blade (he always blushed at the femininity of it)—was shot in the head two months after Dick had met him.
Apparently, he was getting a little too close to Nightwing for Ra's' liking.
Apparently, Nightwing had more potential out of the two.
Dick would like to say that it's the first time he's seen blood spilled, but it isn't—working with Batman had solidified this. However, it was the first time he had seen someone so brutally killed, and right in front of him, too. It's nowhere near the last time—he quickly learns that the children of the League of Shadows are often shot or stabbed or heavily wounded. They're picked on purely for the purpose of hardening them into cold-blooded killers for the future of the organization, which gets Nightwing's blood boiling.
Even so, however, he learns that most of the time, his interventions can be more harmful than beneficial. Often times he finds himself cleaning up the aftermaths and helping the children heal up—rarely does he intervene before the abuse even starts.
Rarely. That doesn't mean there aren't exceptions, however.
"Leave them alone," Unraveler says, standing in front of the group of five or so children. His back is turned to them as he holds his arm out to the side, as if he's trying to shield them. One of the children, a young male around the age of seven, is holding a bloody nose.
"I got the kid," the man says, looking distastefully around the dirty and cramped room. "He's technically mine. And I would appreciate if I could have back what belongs to me."
Near the doorway stands a tall woman with blonde hair pulled into a bun. Standing next to the man who is demanding the seven-year-old is a teen—a male around sixteen or seventeen at most.
Unraveler stands stock-still, clearly not stepping down. "You don't own anyone," he hisses. "Just because you found him off the streets doesn't mean you had the right to take him and drag him here of all places. You can't just claim him as your slave."
As Nightwing stands in the shadows, watching the conversation bounce back and forth coolly, he glances at the boy that Unraveler and the man are talking about. He has greasy blond hair that obviously hasn't been brushed or washed in a long time, and his dark brown eyes are close to the color black.
"It isn't like it hasn't been done before, kiddo," the woman by the doorway says tonelessly. "The League's been doing this for as long as any of us could remember. And it wasn't like he was going to live for much longer out in those crime-filled streets of Gotham." When she gets no response from the Unraveler, she continues. "The idea of this exercise is to bring those who don't have lives anyway—preferably children, who adapt the fastest—into this environment where they have to struggle and fight to come out on top. Granted, little Zachie over here didn't necessarily win anything, nor did he establish any sort of dominance. But he survived for a month, which is pretty long for a kid around here."
The teen picks up from her. "I get that you're a newbie, but I thought you're supposed to be the Unraveler," he mocks. "Apprentice of not one, not two, but three powerful figures in the criminal world. You're supposed to know this stuff. Don't tell me you're really just the puppet of the peace agreement like everyone says," he taunts.
Nightwing notes that he's struck a nerve with Unraveler. Touchy subject, he acknowledges, reminding himself to talk about it with the younger boy later.
Just as he's thinking that, the teen gets a punch delivered right to the face.
He hisses in pain, reeling back from the blow. He brings up his left palm on instinct, holding his nose which is obviously broken. Pulling his hand away from his face a second later and out in front of him—it's smeared with blood—he looks at his reddened palm. He growls. "You'll pay for that you scumba—"
"Enough," the woman calls calmly. She steps down so she is standing in front of the teenager and the man. "Unraveler," she says in a quiet but clear voice, "you cannot stand in our way. While it may be true you are under Ra's al Ghul's direct command, that does not mean you are above us in any way, shape, or form. And I am sure that Ra's would not be happy to know that you defied his expectations when it comes to this matter."
Unraveler is obviously tense as he speaks, but he doesn't back down. Nightwing starts to see a pattern with Unraveler's behavior, and it is clear that his quick fuse was a direct cause to all of his rash decision-making. That would not pass over for very long with his "masters," he is sure of it.
"You are not taking him," he says fiercely.
The man from before growls before he pulls out a pistol. Unraveler doesn't seem fazed as the man places the end of the muzzle on the cheek of his mask. "I think you're forgetting who you're talking to. We're all assassins here, and I will not hesitate to shoot you, no matter who you serve."
Unraveler is clearly frustrated, and Nightwing knows he's going to act on it even before he does.
The younger boy grabs the man's wrist and pulls it abruptly to the side. The man yelps as his arm pops at the weird angle before he's kicked to the floor with a heel to his back. The woman wastes no time to grab her own gun, and she aims it for his head.
"Stand down," she says in her coldest tone as the teen beside her unsheathes his dual blades.
Unraveler bites his tongue, tensing. It's clear, though, that he's looking for an out so he can continue his assault. The blonde woman notices it immediately, however, and wastes no time in telling him otherwise.
"You are a minor. Your rank is inferior to ours," she says icily. "Your only choice is to give the boy up, or I will go to Ra's and inform him of your misbehavior. And anyway," she says, looking around the room with her nose scrunched up in distaste, "I'm sure the kid doesn't want to sleep in this room with the other children. It's cramped and disgusting."
Zach says nothing, instead lowering his eyes as his nose finally stops bleeding. He glances at the teenager whose nose is the opposite - still broken and bleeding profusely.
"I go," he whispers to Unraveler. "I go with them. They do no hurting to you."
Unraveler, beneath the mask, scowls. "No," he replies, steadfast.
Zach frowns and falls silent.
"Yes," the teenager says in response, his voice nasally. "He's coming with us." He swings his daggers in the air, the blades glinting in the less-than-satisfactory lights.
Unraveler gets into a fighting position, though he glances wearily at the gun aimed at his forehead. The man on the ground finally stands up, rubbing his back. He bares his teeth in anger.
"Stupid brat," he mutters, barely withheld fury buried in his tone.
"I'm giving you three seconds to surrender before I start shooting," the woman warns. "One... two..."
A hand grabs her wrist. She immediately stops talking, surprise forming on her facial features. She opens her mouth to speak, or maybe let out a gasp of shock, but instead knuckles meet her lips in a swift and hard punch. Her gun clatters to the ground as she falls on her backside, and her lip's busted, a drop of blood falling from the cut.
The teenager with the dual blades rushes forward, but Nightwing ducks under his swing and grabs him by the front of his shirt. He brings his knee up speedily, hitting him in a place that probably breaks some sort of "man code". The teenager yowls in pain as he comically falls to the ground.
The man from before just stands and stares at him, and Nightwing glares right back. "Leave," he orders.
Like Unraveler, Nightwing is technically under Ra's' rule. He has no reason to do what he just did. In fact, if the three wants to, they can probably get Nightwing in a lot more trouble than what's worth of the petty argument.
But no one questions Nightwing. Not unless you want consequences.
The man swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement. The blonde woman picks herself up, grabbing the teen by his arm. She doesn't hesitate to half bow in a hurried and slightly-uncaring show of respect. Turning right around, she drags the teen with her out the door. The man follows shortly afterward, but he calls back before he leaves the abandoned kids' chambers.
"I'll meet you at the arena at five tomorrow."
Unraveler scowls. "And I'll crush you before the clock hits five-thirty," he calls.
Nightwing lets a moment of silence fall over the two before he glances at Unraveler. "Did you seriously just accept a fight from him?" he asks tonelessly.
Unraveler—or, as Nightwing likes to call him when they are alone, Jay—shrugs. "What did you expect from me?"
Nightwing is about to respond when Zach speaks up.
"Prieten?" he asks, his eyes wide.
Nightwing clenches his jaw before sighing. He runs his hand through his hair, pushing the stray locks of hair from his forehead. "Yeah, that's me." The four other children immediately make sounds of disbelief, especially one of the older girls.
Nightwing doesn't say anything, even as Zach rushes forward and hugs him. He's always liked saving children that can't protect themselves—but this time, there is no satisfaction or victory. He has a feeling that what he did is going to come back to bite him, and bite him hard. His words come back to him, and he internally winces—he sounded a lot like his old mentor. While that would usually make him stand straight in pride, he finds himself turning farther and farther from the image of the Batman in distaste.
The cold harshness just isn't him.
For a split, selfish second, he doesn't want to be Prieten, the "hero that protected the weak". He just wants to be Nightwing, the quiet kid who hides in the shadows and wanders the hallways without reason, picking apart his stray thoughts.
"Thank you so much," Zach whispers into his stomach, his tears soaking his suit. "You saved me."
Nightwing places a hand on his tiny back, his stomach dropping to his feet. Unraveler raises his eyebrows at him, clearly feeling the tenseness radiating off of the older boy.
"Yeah," Nightwing says quietly, glancing away from the intense look of his friend.
/breakline initiate\
"Project Revive is complete, sir."
"Good... Take aside a smaller unit to train him. In the meantime, Project Unify will be our top priority."
There's a moment of silence as the owner takes in a deep breath.
"Hunt them down."
And already we have a lot going on. Yay.
I just wanted to say this before I get super into this story, but this is going to be a doozy. The plot line is super long and complex even though I've tried to cut it down. This should be around fifty chapters, cut into two parts. The first part lasts around twenty or so chapters, and it's mostly the leading up to the second part, which is when a bunch of crap happens.
For the record, I know this may not be as good as the first book. If you're thinking about this critically, I definitely have way too much plot, and while I would like for the pace to go super quickly, that's simply not possible. So I'm sorry if I bore you—I tried to make extra sure that there's always something happening, unlike the original Codes and Barriers where nothing actually happened until chapter fifteen. If you're just here for the ride and aren't here to be super picky and critical, then you should be fine... but it may take a while.
Guys, please be patient with me on this. It's... gonna be super difficult for me. And I'm trying to perfect this because this is the last book in this series... (Probably.)
And because I'm using every trope in freaking existence. You name it, I probably have it.
I'm going to do my very best for this trip to be a fun, exciting experience. It may take a while to push out regular updates, however (in the last book, I published once every week on a Saturday.) School is usually everyone's excuse, but I'm serious when I say that I will probably have most of my time taken up. I don't want to whine, but my classes are severely hard, and adjusting to my usual workload is going to be a rough experience.
But enough about that. Once again, I'm glad that you wonderful readers are here! I hope you don't mind the emotional damage I'm about to dump on you, because we're going to jump right into this pool of acid!