So sorry that this update took so long. My life is going through the wringer right now. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Once again, I don't own, DC does, and I only get enjoyment from writing these fics, not money. krtshadow

Machine Guns and Gas Masks

The Zee Moores is a particularly nasty part of a town that is naturally nasty to begin with. Needless to say, not the type of place you want to go to, be at, or come from. Unless you're slightly crazy, that is. I think that both Dick and I could qualify for insanity. Consider our line of work. To be a superhero, you're supposed to have some kind of superpower, preferably one that protects you from deadly harm. Second best is one that you can use as a weapon. Neither Dick nor I have either, or any other superpower whatsoever. Yet we still systematically throw ourselves off 40 story buildings, physically attack insane mass murderers, occasionally save the world, and consistently try to intimidate people who could take us with out breaking a sweat. Now tell me, does this sound like normal behavior to you? I mean, really, I am almost 17 years old, ok? The whole process of my life should be taken up with school, girls, sports and girls. Not to mention, girls. Instead, I'm in one of the worst parts of Bludhaven, a good 25 miles away from where I'm supposed to be asleep in bed, and it's almost 1 am. This is actually normal for me, which tells you something very interesting about the life that I live.

Namely, that it's screwed up.

Oh well, at least I know karate. It's really kind of cool when you can watch martial arts movies and laugh about how easy it would be to take down the star.

Actually, at this time of night, I'm usually patrolling downtown Gotham, either by myself or with Batman. Tonight has been a little different because I was called to Bludhaven to help out Nightwing, my surrogate brother and, although I'd never tell him, role model. So far, I haven't been much help, only helping him out on things that he could do on his own just as easily. Currently, we're headed at top roof speed to Butch's hideout in the Zee Moores. Nightwing is filling me in on everything that he knows about Butch, who is Henderson's right hand man. Henderson was a high ranking political appointee in the state capital and also very involved in the shady side of Bludhaven business. He was also the man who had put the hit out on Nightwing, for reasons mostly unknown. Unknown or not, the 'clan doesn't appreciate being shot at, so we're going to kick his tail for him and reeducate him in the ways of being nice to big, bad vigilantes. Or in my case, young, short vigilantes. But I'm tough. Very tough. Or so I like to think.

Nightwing recognizes the address that I pried out of one of Butch's gunmen, and we head there very cautiously. So far, either Butch or his boss has shown some real brains. They had obviously watched Nightwing's appearances for some time, since they had at least a rough idea of his favorite stomping grounds. Posting gunmen at these places is actually kind of smart, I guess the plan was that maybe somebody would get lucky. Well, nobody got lucky. Too bad for Butch, because now we're gonna have to kick his butt for him.

That is, if we can even get to him. Nightwing hisses a warning just as I notice the three men on the roof next to ours. Lucky for us, they hadn't spotted us, instead scanning the area to our right. It took no great brains to see that they were looking for Nightwing. Who else would come via roof? And also merit a machine gun for each man. For the moment, I was an unknown. They were only expecting Nightwing, and that made me a valuable weapon. Strategy is a huge part of the 'clan's life. We don't have the luxury of knowing that every thing will turn out ok no matter what we do. We're not bullet proof, and contrary to popular opinion, we are aware of that fact. Not even our superhero friends and colleagues realize that we spend hours formulating plans for everything that could possibly happen, and a few for things that couldn't happen. We hope. The rest of the superhero world thinks that we only have plans to take them down, but I've sat in on strategy sessions that dealt with everything from terrorism to economic and political strategies. I've even seen a plan to systematically remove the 'boy' bands, should their influence prove harmful.

Ok, maybe that one was a joke on me, but I wouldn't swear to that.

Anyway, it was with perfect ease that Nightwing and I changed directions and headed towards an empty roof that was blessed with abundant shadows. We landed silently and blended into the shadows like we were born there. Our final destination was across the street, in the top floor of a supposedly deserted factory. Looks like an old canning factory, probably left over from when Bludhaven was the main fishing port in the area. I pulled out a pair of night vision binoculars and began scanning the area for the rest of the guards that had to be there. Nightwing quietly contacted Oracle, hoping for a little more information on the building and what we might be able to expect inside.

I count three different guard posts, three men to a group. Six men were on rooftops, three men at ground level, hidden near the main entrance. One of the posts was only about 20 feet away, across a roof top and an alley. All of the men were alert and well armed. Nine to two? Bad odds. For them. I started to think about how to get inside. There was no harm in my formulating a plan, although it was Nightwing's town, and therefore his call. Let's see, if it was up to me, I'd try to sneak in, only tangling with the guards if I absolutely had to. I was right in the middle of planning our route in, when Nightwing's gloved hand grasped my shoulder. I managed to silently jump about a foot in the air. Dang! Mental list: learn how he sneaks up on people like that. Seems like I'm the only one of the family that can't do it consistently. I mean, I do ok with non-family, but I can't even sneak on Alfred, much less Dick or Bruce. Nightwing is stifling a laugh as I glare at him. Show off.

Using our little sign language, the darkened screen of his wrist monitor and softly whispered words, we manage to communicate. I flash three fingers and point to the three different guard stations. A hand signal communicates that all of the men are awake, armed and alert. A grimace and shrug from Nightwing says, 'Oh well, not everybody is stupid enough to fall asleep.' I raise an eyebrow and nod towards his wrist monitor. Shielding the faint light from the monitor with his hand, he shows me the blueprints that he had downloaded from Oracle. I commit them to memory, and nod. He turns the monitor off, and motions me closer. I have to resort to lip reading, since he's talking so low. He asks, "Can you get in without being seen?" I think for a second, going over my route in my mind. It won't be easy, but I can do it. I nod. I point a finger at his chest and raise an eyebrow. He gets the famous "cocky Nightwing" grin on his face and gestures down the street, his other hand making swinging motions. Oh, I see, I'm backup, while he goes in like he doesn't even see the guards. Typical Nightwing approach to things. The scary thing is that it usually works.

It's actually a good plan. Butch and his men don't know that Nightwing has backup tonight, as the only men that saw me are tied up on a roof across town. The bad guys are prepared for Nightwing. Their whole plan revolves around him and how he will react. Having me as a backup lessens the chance that one of them will get lucky and be able to capitalize on it. It's also sneaky, which I like. It also means that if Nightwing is able to handle it, I don't even get involved. I don't like that as well, but I do see the strategy. Plus, like I said earlier, it's his city, his call. Anyway, as prepared as Butch's men seem to be, I'll probably get a chance to get my licks in.

I show Nightwing the path that I'll use to get in and he nods approval. He flashes five fingers at me, and heads back the way that we came. Ok, I have five minutes to get as far into 'enemy territory' as I can. I can probably get all the way in five minutes, but even if I can't the guards will be distracted when Nightwing shows up. I drop down to the street, moving silently through an alley and up a fire escape. Two stories up, there are baloneys on each side of the street. They're about 20 feet apart, and conveniently shadowed. I sling a cord across and go hand over hand, keeping my cape around me. Made it! Now, just get over two buildings and on to the roof of the cannery. This is accomplished by stealth, since I end up having to go right by one of the guard posts.

They never even see me. I pause to consider. We might need to take them out in a hurry later, and since I'm right here… I take the time to set a remote controlled sleeping gas bomb deep in the shadows. This one is of my own design. I combined about four times the normal amount of gas, so that when it disperses it covers a large area. Kind of overkill for just this roof, but it's the only one I have with me, so it'll have to do. The remote is in my belt, ready to go if necessary. With that accomplished, I finally get to the roof of the cannery, just as I see the guards at the door stiffen and motion towards the north. Good old Nightwing, right on time. I was going to try getting in through the roof, but since I have the opportunity, I think I'll take the front door, since the guards are watching Nightwing. It's kind of risky, but I think that it'll work. All of their attention is focused outward. I drop off the roof, in between them and the door. As I'm falling, I grab the upper edge of the doorframe and swing in the open door.

The inside of the cannery is dark and shadows abound because of huge stacks of empty crates that still lie scattered on the factory floor. I manage to get behind cover before anybody sees me. Whew, I'm really glad that that worked. Now, to get to a decent vantage point. Let's see, somewhere well I can easily see the whole factory floor, which was huge, and where I could easily defend if necessary. A catwalk tucked far back in the corner attracted my attention. At one time it had probably been used to service some of the more complex machinery and the ductwork. Perfect.

Thirty seconds later, I'm on the catwalk. I settle in a corner, where even if somebody looks up, they won't see me. Just in time, too, since all heck is breaking loose outside. Obviously, Nightwing is making an entrance. Sure enough, the guards at the entrance to the building start yelling. Gunshots echo in the deserted cannery, and I grit my teeth. Hopefully, nobody got lucky… No, it's ok, here he comes now.

Nightwing saunters in, cool as a cucumber. I hear a thump as one of the men that had been guarding the door hits the wall and slides down, unconscious. He drops back in the shadows, scanning the area. If I didn't know the way that he thinks, I'd never see him after he hits the darkness.

He sees pretty much what I see, an empty factory, complete with large machinery scattered around in various states of disrepair. Huge piles of crates were stacked along one wall, and there was an enclosed office area in the back. The lighting for the factory was on, but due to the fact that many of the bulbs were broken or burnt out, the light was scattered, throwing a myriad of shadows across the room. In the faint shadows, I can see Nightwing reach for his communicator and touch a single button on the side. My own ear piece vibrates slightly. Nightwing is wondering if I got in ok, and if I'm in position. I hit my button twice, which is code for 'all ok, ready when you are.'

The door connecting the offices to the main factory floor swung open with a bang, as four armed gunmen came out and started scanning the surrounding shadows. I could mentally see Nightwing's eyebrow raise, no doubt thinking that it was rather strange to see only four men inside when there had been nine outside. They couldn't honestly think that four men would pose a problem to Nightwing, no matter how well armed they were.

I relaxed slightly, frowning at the men. Nightwing could handle them in his sleep, so it didn't look like I was going to get any fun tonight. Then I tensed again, because the gunmen did the unexpected. They walked into the brightest part of the factory floor and placed their weapons on the floor. And not just the machine guns they carried at their sides, but guns appeared out of coat pockets and shoulder holsters. I was beginning to get confused. What were they planning? Surrender seemed unlikely since they had went to all that trouble to guard the place. A trap usually isn't sprung until the violence route has been tried. Dang! I hate unpredictable bad guys. Totally messes me up.

Nightwing was obviously as confused as I was because he moved out of the dark shadows slightly. He held three 'wings in his right hand, and he set his left hand at his waist, where he could reach his escrima sticks instantly. His voice echoes off of the cement walls. "No, wait, don't tell me. Let me guess. Are you surrendering?"

The office door opens again, and a small man steps out. "No, they aren't."

Nightwing shook his head sadly at the four men. "I'm so sorry. You might want to take this moment to notify your next of kin or say a prayer."

The small man looked irritated that Nightwing wasn't paying any attention to him. I could have told him that he was getting just as much attention as the rest of the men, in fact probably more. Nightwing has a way seeming not to pay attention to the people that he is watching the most. It bothers people if he ignores them, it makes them think that he doesn't consider them a threat. That makes them mad, and makes them more likely to make a mistake.

Nightwing suddenly shifted his attention to the small man and asked, "So, do you want to tell me what's going or do you want me to keep guessing?"

Small man snapped his fingers and yet another man brought a chair from the office. He sat down and lit a cigar. Nightwing raised an eyebrow and totally ignored the chair that was brought for him. Obviously, this whole charade had been to arrange this meeting. Nightwing has to be curious about what was going on, I know that I was. Finally, he spoke again, "What's going on, Henderson?"

Henderson! The small man was the crooked politician that Nightwing had told me was responsible for the drugs that he'd burned, and the one that had ordered the hits on Nightwing's rooftops. Moving slowly, I reached for a batarang. I wanted one in my hand, ready to go, since I trusted this guy exactly none. I'm just waiting for the other foot to drop.

Meanwhile, Henderson removed the cigar from his mouth and stared at Nightwing. Heh. He's trying to stare down someone who's been taught by the Bat. Nightwing's poker face could outstare this guy, and we're not even thinking about the 'glare'. It'd probably kill the poor guy. Henderson gives up after a couple of minutes, and leans forward in his chair. "I have a proposition for you."

"No."

Henderson looks startled. He's probably not used to people turning him down before he even gets to the paycheck part. "I'll make it worth your while to stay out of my… business affairs."

Nightwing favors him with a slightly feral grin. "No."

Henderson frowns. "Well, I was planning on offering you five million, but I can certainly go higher, especially if you are willing to join me."

"No."

Henderson stands to his feet and takes a step towards Nightwing. He is beginning to get frustrated and yells, "Listen to me, you idiot!"

Before he can even continue his thought, Nightwing is in his face. "No. No, I won't listen to you, you political cretin. No, I won't take your money, you piece of slime. No, I won't leave your criminal empire alone, you hypocritical liar. In fact, I have every intention of seeing that you get exactly what's coming to you." Yeah, you tell him, Dick.

Henderson is furious now. "Well then, I certainly can't let you do that, can I? And while, I know that you'd love to take me down right now, you don't have any proof that I am involved with anything illegal. So, I'm sure you understand why I can't let you leave the building."

Whoa, this guy had guts. Threatening Nightwing when he's only about a foot away from your throat is definitely a bad thing. I was just waiting for him to spring on Henderson and rearrange his face for him, when suddenly my attention was directed elsewhere. Nightwing whirled as the largest of the abandoned machines suddenly lost one of its sides, revealing a whole bunch of armed men, I'd estimate almost 30, and they were all fully equipped with night vision goggles and kevlar. Well, this is not exactly planned. Guess I'll get to chip in after all.

For lack of a better term, I'll use the word explosion as a description of what Nightwing did next. Inside of a second, three of the men were down, each with a 'wing bounced off their head at a high rate of speed. Since it was obvious that we didn't have the advantage of darkness anymore, and sooner or later someone would happen to look up and spot me, I figured that now was as good a time as any to join the fray. I latched a rope around one of the support beams and swung down towards the largest group of men, who were now firing at Nightwing. So far he was keeping away from them, utilizing his magnificent acrobatic abilities in a frenzy to keep the bullets from striking home. As he moved, he managed to release another 'wing about every other hop, and each one found a victim and dropped him.

As I swung down behind the men, Nightwing saw me and managed to nod in my direction. It's standard policy to make sure that everyone knows exactly who's in the fight on the good side because it's really depressing when you knock out your own backup. Using my momentum as a weapon, I kicked two men as I landed. Both were knocked off their feet, and one hit his head on the concrete and went limp. The other fell, but rolled and came up again, swinging his gun towards me. A high spin kick took care of him and I whirled around just in time to duck away from another barrage of machine gun fire.

Sheesh, there's an awful lot of bad guys here. We're good, but two against thirty is bad odds, even though between the two of us we'd managed to take down at least eight of them. Eventually one of them was going to get lucky, unless we did something fast. I took cover behind a stack of crates near the door, popping up to throw a batarang as the opportunity presented itself. Nightwing was across the floor, also behind some cover, but even our deadly aim with 'wing and 'rang wouldn't hold off machine guns long. Then my attention was drawn to the door. One of the guards had regained consciousness and had entered the factory, still looking rather groggy. In his hands he carried my sleeping gas bomb.

I tap my ear piece. "Hey, 'Wing, you ok?"

The reception was kind of fuzzy but I could hear him over the noise of the gunfire that was still echoing in the room. "Yeah, any ideas? I don't have much in the way of gas that would be effective in this big of a room, and not enough to take care of everybody individually. How about you?"

I couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Bro, you just leave that to me. Oh, you might want to wear your gas mask, too."

"I'm waiting with bated breath."

I wanted to give a sarcastic remark there, but we really didn't have time for wise cracking. Moving about as fast as I've ever moved, I ran towards the unsuspecting guard who was still looking at my bomb with a puzzled look on his face. Idiot. I could just imagine him saying something like, "Du'uh what's this, boss?" like a mobster out of a bad Mafia flick. I never even slowed down as I tore it from his grip. I heard him dive for cover as the gunmen in the center of the room started firing my way. I dove for cover, pausing only to toss the bomb into the center of them. Nightwing was also moving, chucking his 'wings and escrima sticks with reckless abandon, trying to provide me with a little covering fire.

I hit the ground hard behind a stack of crates and heard somebody come after me. I turned, 'rang in hand, to see Nightwing. "Whatever that was, set it off now!" He scrambled for a gas mask and I did the same. A commotion broke out in the center of the floor as the gunmen realized that there was a bomb among them and then I hit the button on my belt.

The gas filled the huge room and we could hear the curses of the men, who were still frantically shooting in every direction. A couple more seconds, and we started hearing thumps as they hit the ground. Nightwing and I exchanged high fives as the gunfire quieted down, and then slowed to a halt.

A look out over the crates revealed a bunch of sleeping or unconscious men. Just for safeties sake I went to kick all the guns out of their hands. I was just bending over to grab one gun that was partly underneath a man, when I felt Nightwing hit me from behind. I heard a shot as both of us skidded across the floor. Dang, looks like one man managed to get a gas mask in place. A 'wing and a 'rang both found their target and the man slumped over his weapon once again. I ran a hand through my hair. "Whoa, thanks, man. I never even saw him."

"Hey, just glad I got to you in time, bro. I'd hate to have to explain to Batman and all."

"Yeah, well, I owe you one."

Nightwing smirks. "You owe me way more than one, and you know it. I'll take breakfast in bed, and a car wash, and…" He shut up to duck away from my fist. "I guess not, huh? Well, we'd better get these guys packaged up."

Five minutes later it was all over but the police pick up. Nighwing wasn't wounded, and I had only a small scratch on my right leg. It was painful and bleeding, but hardly anything to get worried about, since it looked like something I might do just running into an end table or something. All it needed was a Band-Aid, which I applied. Ouch, I hate that antibacterial stuff. It stings, and Nightwing is laughing at me. "Poor baby."

"Oh, shut up, Nightwing." I affected my best Bruce the fop impersonation. "I just have a low pain tolerance, y'know."

Still laughing at me, Nightwing went to look for Henderson, but neither of us was very surprised that he was nowhere to be found. He'd made good his escape in the commotion. Nightwing did identify one of the gunmen as Henderson's right hand man, Butch, so at least we got the feeling that we slowed Henderson down for a while.

Outside, we watched from a rooftop, as the police swarmed over the warehouse. Using his binoculars, Nightwing told me the detective in charge was on the take and the men would probably be let go on insufficient evidence. Ignoring the illegal machine guns, I guess. Bludhaven is infuriating sometimes. Nightwing looks kind of mad for a minute, but shrugs it off. That would be very hard for me to do. I don't deal with risking my life for no gain very well. Nightwing has more patience about his city than I have with Gotham. Maybe it's because it 'his'. I don't know.

Hmmm, now I just have to figure out a way to get home. I refuse to take anymore trains today, and my bike is still parked near Oracle's. "Hey, 'Wing."

"Yeah?"

"Can you give me a ride home?"

"Sure." I can see the wheels turning in his head. I know that his thoughts are going something like, 'Home=Gotham=Oracle=Barbara=Yeahhhh!' Heh. Those two idiots are so in love, and the funny thing is they think that nobody realizes. Well, I'll get a ride home, and Dick'll get a valid excuse to see Babs, and we'll all be happy.

Plus, I'll get a chance to check out Nightwing's ever so cool car. Yeah!

Kind of a stupid ending of this chapter, but I was having problems ending it and I didn't want this chapter to be 30 pages. I'll be back with more as soon as I can. Any comments, both good or bad, would be appreciated. Thanks! krtshadow