With A Bang

~O Chapter Two O~

"Time for the fireworks, boys!" The Joker cackled as he released the detonator.

There was a brief moment of tense and total silence . . . just before the world erupted around them.

Red Hood curled up when the blast hit him from behind, trying to protect his head and injured shoulder as best he could. There was no flame, no real heat that he could detect, just a concussive explosion of power and debris. A flash of black and blue shot past and Nightwing was knocked out of sight. Red Hood felt the sensation of falling and bunched up tighter, finally coming to a jarring halt as he slammed into a toppled hunk of concrete.

He stayed there, braced and unmoving, for a long moment as his hearing cleared and the last of the rubble settled noisily. Once he was sure nothing else was going to blow up on him, he uncurled and dazedly sat up. His GSW protested the movement quite angrily, but he ignored as a voice called out from the pitch blackness.

"Hood? –cough- Hey, you okay?" Nightwing asked from a few feet away in the darkness. Nightwing sounded okay, at least.

"Yeah, I just need a sec. Didn't eat my Wheaties this morning," Red Hood joked back. He took a moment to inventory his body and found nothing but minor aches and pains.

A relieved giggle – a release of tension – warned of Nightwing's approach before a crack and a shake brought a small flare of light; Nightwing held the glow stick at waist height, dim green light guiding his steps towards his brother. "How's the arm?"

"Well, it fucking hurts, if that's what you mean," Red Hood said with a – belatedly regretful – shrug, cringing at the motion.

Nightwing crouched beside him, moving to examine Red Hood's injured left arm. "Still bleeding heavily. I'm gonna hafta get the bullet out and wrap it right if we're gonna be here for a while."

"Wonderful. . ." Red Hood grumbled.

While he carefully shrugged his jacket off, Nightwing pulled a small, portable bubble light from his belt, setting their immediate area brightly alight. "Not the most sterile environment," he commented, pulling forceps and gauze out as well. The air around them was clogged with debris particles, a thick cloud of dust coating their every breath.

"How the hell do you and Batman keep everything in a fucking belt?" Red Hood wondered distractedly. "I wear cargo pants with a dozen pockets and holsters and still don't manage to carry everything. So how do you manage it?"

Smirking, Nightwing returned with, "Compartmentalization. Do you have a lighter?"

"What kind of question is that? Do I have a lighter?" Reaching into his right front pants pocket, he pulled out a black lighter. "Now who's Mr. 'Be Prepared'?"

Nightwing took the lighter, catching and holding Red Hood's gaze. "I haven't seen or heard anything from him."

"Not surprised if your ears are ringing as bad as mine. . . And it doesn't help that we can't see a damn thing around us." Red Hood kept trying to get a good look around but it was useless. Dust was everywhere in the air, barely any light coming in at all.

Movement caught his eye and he turned back to his brother as Nightwing held out Red Hood's Glock back to him. "Just . . . keep an eye out."

"Yeah, yeah, you know I will." Red Hood waved his other hand dismissively. There was no question if Red Hood would watch his back. Nightwing set to work on the wound; he used the lighter and a small bottle of betadine to sterilize the pincers, the best he could do under these conditions.

There was the sound of shifting debris and something fell a short distance away causing them both to look around to find the Joker. They didn't know if he was pinned or not, if he was buried, or free. So with only being able to see about two feet in front of them, they were on edge. They were in a spotlight, on show for anyone to see.

The forceps found their way into the entry wound; Nightwing having removed has gloves, he used his fingers to feel around for the bullet. Torn muscle tissue in the bicep seemed the extent of the damage done, but he could feel his brother tensing against the pain as Nightwing located the bullet and moved the pincers to grasp it and pull it out. A noise behind him had him itching to glance around, but he kept to his task, trusting Red Hood to watch out for them both.

"Did you find the fucking round yet?" Red Hood asked through his teeth.

"Working on it," he replied with forced levity. A moment later, he bullet finally came free with a pained hiss from Red Hood. Nightwing held the bloodstained hunk of metal in front of his brother's face. "There. See? All better." He lowered the forceps and pressed a square of gauze to the wound.

"It's about damn time! Now what?" Red Hood asked still trying to get a good look around the place. Still so much dust around the place, not to mention the only light was the spotlight around them.

"Stop you from bleeding out." Nightwing wrapped up Red Hood's arm once the bleeding slowed. He clinched the bandage tight enough to stop the flow without cutting off circulation. "Now, we contact the others." He pressed a finger to his ear to activate his comm. "Nightwing to Oracle." A slight frown set itself on his face when he got no reply. "Oracle, this is Nightwing. Can you hear me?" Still no reply was forth coming, but he followed through speaking into the silence. "If you're getting this, the building went down. Red Hood and I fell into some kind of sub-basement under the main structure. We're . . . looking for a way out now. Hood sustained a non-fatal GSW; a non-critical flesh wound." He paused, eyes sweeping the gloom around them again. "Our position is not secure. We're okay for now, but help soon would be great, Oracle. Nightwing out."

Changing frequencies, he tried something else. "Nightwing to Red Robin, do you copy? C'mon, Little Bird, tell me you hear me." A sudden burst of static blasted through the comm. Nightwing flinched back as the harsh sound hit his still sensitive ears. It cut out as abruptly as it had come. "Red Robin?" The noise came again, like garbled words put through a blender and played through a loud speaker. Nightwing had to yank the bud out for fear of rupturing his eardrum.

"Well, that looks like a bust. . ." Red Hood stated standing up. "Might as well try and find a way out, and maybe find him and secure him somehow." He grabbed his jacket and pulled it back on. "Damn, I'm gonna need a new jacket. Do you have another glow-stick thing?"

"Not as prepared as you pretend to be, huh, Pockets?" Nightwing teased, packing away the bright bubble light and pulling out two fresh glow-sticks and handing them to Red Hood. He avoided looking at his blood tacky hands as he slid his gloves back on.

Red Hood cracked one of the glow-sticks, and started off in a direction to try and find a door. The glow-stick didn't help much. There were boxes and debris everywhere. They couldn't tell where the stupid clown was. He was being quiet, so they could only hope that he was unconscious somewhere in the room. After stumbling around in the dark for a while, they discovered a steel double door inlayed in one wall. Nightwing handed his glow-stick to Red Hood, who held both lights up with his uninjured arm to illuminate the area while the older man cleared the debris from in front of the doors. Once done, Nightwing grasped the handle and pushed on the door. It didn't budge. He shoved a shoulder against it, heaved his weight into it, did it again, but the door remained steadfastly shut.

"Dammit! We are stuck in here." Red Hood punched the door with his good arm.

"There could be another door. . ." offered Nightwing, voice trailing off as he lost confidence in the suggestion. But really, what else could they do but keep looking for a way out? They had no way of knowing when rescue would be coming.

"Yeah, sure, 'cause our luck has been so great this far." Kicking crates and punching boxes, Red Hood followed Nightwing along the wall, trying to find another exit.

A crash in the darkness to their right had both on alert. Turned in the direction the noise came from, neither of them saw the attack coming from behind until it was on them. In the greenish light, a purple blur knocked Nightwing straight off his feet, sending him skidding several meters until he rolled to his feet.

"Sonofabitch! Where'd he go 'Wing?" Red Hood asked, pulling out his gun and pointing it in the darkness, spinning slowly, anticipating another attack.

"Not sure," replied Nightwing, moving closer to Red Hood and back into their dim island of light. "Beanpole hit me like a linebacker."

"He doesn't seem to like you very much. Do you have to make jokes?" They put their backs together, still circling around the room, waiting. "We are sitting ducks! We need to think of a plan!" Stick together in the light or split up in the dark?

"Hey, everyone likes me."

"Nightwing, shut up and help me—" Another attack caught Red Hood off guard and Nightwing got pulled back into the darkness. "Fuck!"

There was the sound of a struggle, the noise echoing in such a way that Red Hood couldn't lock onto their position. A thump as a body hit the ground, scuffing and grunting as the fight ensued. He couldn't see what was going on. He didn't have eyes on Nightwing.

Aiming at the ceiling, he shot his gun. Some debris fell to the ground, but the scuffing on the ground stopped. "Joker, come get me, leave Nightwing alone."

"Tempting as that is," growled the Joker, voice bouncing around. "But you're not the one I want, Helmet Head."

"I don't care, Clown. Take me instead," Red Hood said through his teeth.

A grunt distinctly from Nightwing. "Sorry, Hood, you know how popular I am. Everyone wants a piece of me."

"Nightwing, shut the hell up." Red Hood inched closer. "C'mon clown, I'm right here. I know you can see me. So come and get me."

"What's the matter, chuckles? No jokes for me?" Nightwing asked, ignoring Red Hood entirely.

"Nightwing. Shut. Up." Red Hood grit his teeth.

"The thing is, Hoodie, I don't want you. You were fun and all. . . But I want the other Bird Brain. He's the one who tricked me, and I want him dead for it." Joker's voice came from behind Red Hood; he swung around, aiming a punch with his good arm at the Joker's voice.

The punch landed, but not on the Joker. An "ow" came from Nightwing.

"Sorry, 'Wing," Red Hood said while a cackle came from a different part of the room.

Nightwing rubbed at his jaw. "I think you cracked a tooth."

"Get over it," Red Hood grumbled.

Glancing around at the sudden silence from their psychotic stalker, Nightwing asked, "Split up and search for clues, Scoob?"

"Whatever you say, Fred."

"Hey, I'm way more of a Daphne."

"And yet I'm the dog?"

Leaving the glow-sticks on the ground, Nightwing and Red Hood dissolved into the shadows, relying on their training and other senses to guide them.

From out of the pitch blackness came the Joker's haunting voice, singing in a dangerous, dizzying tone. "Ring around the Birdies."

Nightwing held perfectly still, trying his hardest to zero in on the clown's location.

"Pockets full of wormies."

It was impossibly disorienting. The sound seemed to be coming from all directions at once, bouncing off of broken walls and cracked ceiling.

"Ashes."

Where those footsteps to his left?

"Ashes."

Did a shoe just scuff on his right?

"They . . . all . . . fall . . ."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, the ingrained instinct that warned him of danger flashed a big red warning sign behind him. He spun around and brought his arm up in a block just in time to stop the knife that swooped downward at him. A displacement of air had him dodging a slash at his midsection. Nightwing swept his leg out, trying to knock the Joker off his feet, but the demented clown merely jumped over his attack.

"Down." Joker jumped onto Nightwing, pinning his knife at Nightwing's jugular. "Any last words, Boy Blunder?"

"Just two," Nightwing announced. "Knock, knock." He held his breath through the momentary silence that followed.

With a derisive snort, Joker replied. "Who's there?"

"Interrupting cow." He had to fight back the grin threatening to bloom across his face.

The frown was discernable in both his voice and the tension in his grip. "Interrupting co—"

Red Hood tackled Joker, their combined weight dragged the clown up and over Nightwing who yanked the knife from white gloved hands as the blade brushed across the still tender scar on his neck. Villain and leather clad hero grappled each other for a moment on the rubble strewn cement before Red Hood got the advantage and sent his fist crashing into the side of the clown's head. That was the only hit he was able to land, however, when the Joker quickly shoved him back and twisted out from under him.

Nightwing had just thrown the knife as far out of the way as he could when there were suddenly hands on him, cold fingers wrapping around his throat and squeezing. He was pressed flat on his back on the ground, airway cut off and a weight pinning him down. The former acrobat fit his legs between his body and the Joker's, prying the two of them apart while he peeled away the vice-like grip bruising his neck. He strained against the effort and the Joker's renewed lunge at him, but Nightwing managed to hold him off long enough for his brother to put the clown in a chokehold.

Red Hood wrapped his legs around the Joker's neck, stretching one of the clown's arms out taut in an arm bar so he couldn't pull himself out or beat his way free. He rode through the Joker's thrashing and wriggling, holding on until the body above him went limp, then a little longer after that just to be sure. Just before the length of time it would take to chokehold someone to death, Red Hood let go. He shoved the villain off and away from him like the trash he was. Red Hood sat up and worked on catching his breath. He could hear Nightwing doing the same, desperate gasps of the oxygen starved easing into adrenaline fueled panting.

The silence lasted only a few moments before Red Hood broke it. "Did you just call me a cow?"

Nightwing flopped onto his back with a breathless giggle.

After taking down the Joker, waiting for rescue was easy. It took almost a whole hour after Nightwing finally made contact through comm to Red Robin. Once they made it outside, Nightwing and Red Hood took deep breaths of fresh air.

"Took you guys long enough," Red Hood remarked, tucking his helmet under his good arm.

"We ran into a few problems getting you out," Red Robin offered, being pulled into a hug by Nightwing.

"Everyone make it out okay?" the oldest brother asked, forcing the youngest into a hug as well. "Where's Bats?"

"Batman and I were able to get out of the area just before it blew. Only Harley is unaccounted for," relayed Red Robin.

"We found her," Red Hood stated.

Nightwing continued, "The Joker knocked her out before the blast. She fell with us, got pinned under some rubble. She's okay; we dug her out."

"Had to gag the both of them to keep them from shouting at each other," Red Hood finished.

"And Batman?" Nightwing asked again.

"-tt-" Robin shoved himself out of Nightwing's too long embrace. "Off chatting with the Commissioner about the lunatics. Likely didn't want to be near in case Red Hood blew the clown's brains out."

"Well, I had more self-control after the blast, but I didn't shoot him. He shot me. . ." Red Hood said, trailing off as Batman joined the group.

"Gordon is taking everyone back to Arkham. Red Hood, Nightwing, good job tonight. . . Red Hood, you need to get that wound cleaned and properly checked out." Batman turned to leave without another word or waiting for a reply.

Breaking the sudden tension, Nightwing threw a careful arm over Red Hood's shoulders. "Looks like you've got a date with the Batcave's infirmary."

"Oh joy. At least I know Alf will give me some peace and quiet." Red Hood rolled his eyes with all the melodrama he could muster. He ducked out from under his brother's arm and set off to steal Nightwing's Cycle.

As Red Hood turned to leave, he heard Nightwing ask, "So, did anyone save me some of that cake? I heard there was cake."

He'd probably never admit that he cracked a smile at his brother's antics as soon as he was out of sight.

"I think that about does it, sir," Alfred announced as he taped on the bandage over the freshly stitched up wound.

"Thanks, A," Jason said, wincing as he tugged his blood stained leather jacket back on.

Packing away the medical supplies, Alfred listed off the usual speech. "Keep the stitches clean and dry. No strenuous activity for at least two weeks. Get plenty of rest. Take your medicine as prescribed and keep an eye out for infection. You know the drill, of course."

Jason flashed a quick smile at the grandfatherly butler. "Gotcha," he assured, hopping off the infirmary cot and stepping out into the Batcave proper.

He went to go find Dick, who was over by the Batcomputer with Bruce. Well, two birds with one stone, he supposed. They seemed to be talking pretty animatedly, though. Bat curiosity piqued, he went to find a spot closer so he could hear what was being said.

"—not about losing control. He chose not to kill; he let the Joker go. You should be proud of him. I'm proud of him."

Bruce's face remained stoic but didn't say anything.

"I know you'll never acknowledge it, just like I know I'm not the only one who sees it. He's growing, as a hero and as a person. He's getting better. They all are."

Jason came out from where he was. "I came to debrief."

Dick cleared his throat at Jason's appearance, taking a step back from Bruce and Smiling at Jason. He was still in his Nightwing uniform, sans domino mask. Dick looked haggard, covered in dust and newly forming bruises. "Great timing, Jay. Just finished giving my report." He excused himself to shower and change, leaving Bruce and Jason alone together after giving Bruce a significant look.

Jason watched Dick as he left, then stepped closer to Batman, back straight and arms akimbo. "Before I start, I don't care if you approve of my actions or not. Doesn't matter. I just didn't want to disappoint Dick."

"Noted." His lips were pursed and his eyes calculating; there was an air of . . . something about him. Whatever it was seemed to go unsaid. "Tell me what happened."

Jason went on to tell Bruce the whole story for when it started for him with the Joker attacking and kidnapping him up until he and Dick were rescued. "I don't know much of what happened before the cavalry arrived, though."

"Joker was planning to use the explosives to eliminate the major players who established themselves after he did. Some deluded plot about going back to the way things were after his and my first encounter. Two Face, Riddler, Catwoman, and Penguin were coerced into joining, while Poison Ivy and Killer Croc joined willingly under the Joker's false pretenses. Scarecrow was sent to capture Red Robin; he escaped custody while Tim was en-route to Gotham."

Jason snorted. "Back to 'the good ole days', huh? Guess he was throwing a real throwback bash."

A flicker of fond amusement crossed Bruce's face, there and gone. Heck, for him it may as well have been a full grin. "Dick said the same thing."

Dramatically throwing up his arms – ow, arm – Jason lamented, "Great, there goes my reputation. I need to get out of here before his stupid sense of humor rubs off on me anymore."

Jason was about to turn to leave when Bruce stopped him, voice almost gentle, thoughtful.

"You've changed, in the past few years. . . I know tonight was hard on you, and if this had happened then with no one near you to stop you, Joker wouldn't be here now. But for what it's worth, you are still my son, and I am proud of you no matter how things turn out."

That was . . . unexpected. Pointedly ignoring the warmth suddenly growing in his chest, Jason barely looked over his shoulder at the older man behind him, smirk softer than he'd ever admit. "Yeah, well, I think age has made you soft, old man."

A soft snort followed Jason out as he unconsciously headed towards the staircase up to the manor entrance. Ah what the hell, he thought, deciding to just crash here. It was barely an hour past sunrise and he had no where he needed to be for a while, may as well stick around.

The end.