Editor's Note

In light of the recent tragedies in our nation, the authors of this issue asked that an explanation be given to the nature of this issue's story. Having been written prior to the tragedy, there is no attempt to make light of the situation in New York City and Washington, D.C. However, this issue was produced prior to the tragedies, and thus remains intact as a work of fiction. Please, enjoy the issue for what it is, and may your wishes go out to the victims that could not just turn the page.

Nightwing #1

The Long Road Ahead - Part 1
by

Mike Bent

and

E.J. Questell

How do I get myself into situations like this?

Or a better question would be; how do I get myself out of this one.

There are advantages to being a cop (in training) in my real life, in that it gives me a better tip off of stuff like this happening. And good thing I wasn't on duty tonight, to allow me to show up here in my professional life.

A life where I'm on duty if in uniform or not; the life of Nightwing.

The ironic thing in all of this? I'm an acrobat by birth, and training, and yet, I hate to fly. I'm not in control. I can't pilot my own coarse. But then, its not like anyone on board this plane has that option even, most especially the pilots in the cockpit.

Just another airjacking, one I was glad to snag just in time. I managed to get a line on the landing wheel just at take-off, at the cost of my cycle. I'm sure its totaled on the runaway. I'm just glad I didnt join in.

I never knew it was so hard to climb up a wire, before a retracting landing wheel can pinch off the line you're dangling on and then crawl through a plane. Maybe I should have paid more attention during those lessons Batman tried to give on situations just like this. But hey, when you have Superman, when do you expect to plane hop?

Then agian, with my life, I should have learned by now to expect the unexpected.

Managing to make it to the body of the plane, I have to be careful here, as this is where the guys with the guns are. Kidnappers and threatening murders who are likely doing this for some irrational reason, endangering the lives of everyone aboard for some 'cause'. I just have to be sure I don't jeopardize their lives as well. So, I'll keep low, stay hidden and see if I can't find out where they're goi-...

"Hi there."

Blinking at the whisper, Nightwing looked forward from his crouching position at the back of the plane, ahead to see who had spotted him. The standing and armed highjacker still kept his back to Nightwing, eyeing the passengers. So who had...? And then he caught the small waving hand from beneath the seats. The hand of a child.

"Hi," Nightwing replied, in a hushed whisper. "We have to be quiet, little guy..."

"I know, so the badguys don't find us. You're here to save us, right?"

Oh boy. No pressure, right? But then it's moments like this that I live for.

"That's the general idea. You should be in your seat, buckled in."

"Mommy told me to hide down here, so I don't get hurt."

A perfectly logical thought in a completely illogical way. But Dick couldn't blame the mother for wanting to spare her son. Maybe it's what his mother would have done for him? In many ways he'd give anything to have the chance to have found that out.

"You don't look like Superman."

"Hrm?" Nightwing looked back to the child again, realizing he had spaced out there for a moment with his personal thoughts. This is so not the time to lapse into that. But he had been staring at the armed, masked man before him, who now was approached by and speaking to another.

"Superman saves the day. You don't look like him."

"He's ... a friend of mine. He taught me a trick, on how to save the day. So, to help me to do that, I need you to stay very still and to be very, very quiet."

As the boy nodded, Dick allowed himself to smile. Having the faith of a small child was enough to make him think he could almost pull this off.

As the second masked man turned, both heading towards the cockpit, Nightwing lept into action. Springing from his hiding place, he tossed forward a pair of bolos, one on a line to entangle the men, and another to quickly wrap about their faces, to keep the men silent. Bound, and effectively gagged, Nightwing yanked on the line to pull the men off their feet, successfully disarming them in the process. As the tied-together men skidded back along
the alleyway, Nightwing swooped in to secure the bolos, and to tie the men to the runners of several chairs.

All is going well so far..., Nightwing thought. That is until the passengers started to scream. And in all of that chaos Nightwing heard several things. '... came aboard at the last moment...' and '... carry stuff unlike anything I've seen before...' and '... there's two more in the cocpit!' And that's when one from the cockpit did arrive.

Noticing that the man was indeed holding a weapon unlike anything he had seen before, Nightwing noticed that it was a much higher technology than what was 'standard' for the blackmarket. Just who was behind this?

Raising one of his own 'Wingarangs', Dick took aim, but was tugged suddenly by groping hands, as people yelled at him to 'get down!' and to 'save them!'. And here, that's what he thought he was doing.

Interrupted, however, he was not the first one to get off his shot. The armed man in the cocpit doorway fired... but not at Nightwing, but rather the emergency exit door at the back of the plane. And suddenly, the whole cabin was filled with suction.

Screaming wildly, the people were now in a frantic more than ever, and Nightwing has to struggle to try to hold now, to the people who had moments before been tugging on him. Oxygen masks dropped, lights flicked, and despite all of his training, Dick found himself reeling to maintain his focus. And just when he was beginning to get his concentration back in line, that's when he heard it. The scream from behind him, going straight out that blasted-away hole.

"Mooooooooommmmmmyyyyy!"

Narrowing his eyes at the masked man pointing the gun at him, Nightwing was sure that his foe was narrowing them back. And through all of the howlering, Nightwing was sure he heard a distinct, "choices, choice, choices..."

Grinding his teeth, Dick knew he had no choice to make. This little bird would have to get away.

Letting go of everythere, Nightwing felt himself lurch, as he was propelled backwards out of the plane, and then the rush of wind as he was in an instant freefall. It was only once his decent had begun that he realized his shoulder was in pain, alive with a burning fire of hurt, as he had slammed into the edge of the doorway before being rocketed out of it.

Dizzy and disoriented, and attempting to go over what he had done wrong in his mind, he felt a small drop of water touch his cheek. Salty water. A tear.

Focusing, Nightwing twisted in the air and looked ahead, downward, and saw his target below him, as above he heard the highjacked plane fly on. The child he had reassured moments before was falling, and crying, below him. The child he had promised, in a way, to save.

Bringing his limbs in close, with a grunt, Nightwing dipped downward. Time to see if Superman taught him a trick or two indeed. Such as the one of how to fly.

"Too dangerous... my @$$!"

Sitting on his bike on the edge of the air strip, Tad looked to the crumpled form of the remains of Nightwing's cycle. Nightwing, some costumed goon who had taken it upon himself to place Tad under his wing, for training... and Tad wasn't sure if he should feel resentful or not. He wasn't especially feeling grateful, certainly not when he was told to 'stay here and wait' while Nightwing lassoed and crawled up into the departing plane.

He'd seen the movies. Tad could be Wesley Snipes, go all Passenger 57 or better yet, he could go all Blade on those highjackers! Yeah!

But he'd been left behind.

Grumbling under his breath, Tad continued to sit there and stare at the night sky, wondering even to himself why he was stupid enough to play 'sidekick' like this. When Nightwing made the offer to train him, Tad had thought it had been to be partners. Not this waiting around $#*+&.

Deciding to screw this and go back to what he *should* be doing, Tad turned his bicycle around. As 'Nite-Wing' he dispensed justice in the nights of Bludhaven in a hockey jersey, cameoflague pants... he wasn't 'fancy' like Nightwing. He didn't have nightvision maskes, insultated bodysuits and motorcycles to just discard on a whim. And he didn't have the patience to be here and not out there, knocking heads.

Putting his foot to peddle, Nite-Wing was prepared to shove off when suddenly a long black limosine pulled up, cutting off the path he had been prepared to use to make his exit. Tad knew that the car had to be armored, as in this town, any vechile worth that much had to have someone valuable had to be inside.

The rear door opened, and inside Tad could see the outline of a large figure, one who remained seated and may have labored to get the words out, but the pressence was unmistakeable. This was the man who owned this city, the man Nite-Wing had to take Bludhaven back from; Blockbuster.

"You are not Nightwing."

"Not what the shirt says," Tad grinned as he drew one of his clubs, drawing it and a thub across the 'Nite-Wing' on his chest. "Or can't you read? I could spell it out to you..."

"I do not believe that I am the one in need of a lesson."

Okay, maybe that wasn't the wisest of things to say.

"Stallion, by all means have fun with this one instead of the real thing."

"Ye-Haw! Ya' got it boss!"

Coming out of the limo with both pistols firing, Stallion appeared in an instant hail of gunfire. With his hat tipped back, toothpick in teeth, the wild gunman grinned the grin of satisfaction as he squeezed out round after round. But it wouldn't be into his target, but Tad's bike was soon torn to scrap metal by the bullets.

Remembering what little Nightwing had taught him so far, Nite-Wing knew that the trick to outrunning your foe was to get out of the way before they could get a lock on you. Tad had also made it a point to study about this particular villain, as it was one who had come for him in the hospital, one that forced him to get saved by Nightwing. This Stallion had put Tad in Nightwing's debt. And now it was time to collect.

Rolling, Nite-Wing felt a bullet graze his left shoulder and another pierce through his right foot. But he ignored the pain as he lept, rolling over the hood of the limo, to put it between him and the cowboy.

"Yer jumpier than a longtailed cat in a room of rockin' chairs, boy! Hop on out here and let's end this, partner!" With that Stallion lept atop the limo, pistols leveled and ready as he peered over the side of the car that Nite-Wing had lept to. Without waiting to spot his target, he fired blindly. "No need t'answer, as I-... argh!"

"I've got your answer right *here*!" Tad snarled his reply as he smashed his clubs into the back of Stallion's powerful legs. Guy may have been build like his namesake, but Nite-Wing took satisfaction in what he thought was the sound of bone breaking.

Having ducked under the limo, Tad was surprised Stallion hadn't thought to shoot under it, or at least down the side Stallion had been on instead of the side Tad lept to. But, standing up and getting a look at the armed lug (from behind), Tad noticed this guy was all brawn and little brains, which was a shame, as it meant less of them he could smash out of Stallion.

As Stallion fell backwards atop the limo, Nite-Wing was right there, first clubbing the gunman so hard across the face that Stallion's hat went flying. Having dropped his pistols in his fall, Stallion reached for one of his sidearms, stopping short as all air was cut from his throat, as one of Tad's clubs was pressed into it, choking him.

Peering in the limo through the door that had been left open, Nite-Wing grimmed to Blockbuster, who sat there impassive, one giant hand clutching his chest. Tad winked to the bigger man as he pressed down on his club, eliciting a sputtering strings of curses from the cowboy. "Look at what I tamed. Who's next?"

"I have to admit you have 'spirit'," the shadowed crimelord said quickly. "I came here in search of Nightwing. Having learned of this evenings events before they were to happen, and knowing the vigilante's meddlesome ways of getting himself involved in everything, I thought if I could capitalize on that. But instead, I found you."

"Well, sorry to spoil your plans, Bigboy. But how about we make some new ones," Tad grunted as he pushed his club down, causing Stallion to painfully gasp.

Smiling in the darkness, Blockbuster agreed, "Perhaps so. Instead of destroying, maybe I should be thinking to create. You're a young man of potential, aren't you... 'Nite-Wing'?"

Grinning himself, Tad nodded. "Glad someone is finally beginning to see that."

"With some tutelage, I could come to see more."

Nite-Wing considered that for a second. Something more than bicycles and hockey jersies? But if Blockbuster trained him, then he could use all of that equipment and knowledge to take down Blockbuster himself...

"I'm in," Tad stated.

Smiling broadly, Blockbuster turned to face forward. "Excellent. Step in then."

Unchoking Stallion, Tad did so. Maybe there was something to this patience thing Nightwing had told him about. Waiting around seemed to have paid off.

Okay, catching a screaming child midflight is the easy thing. _Landing_ after having caught said screaming kid without a parachute is the hard thing. Getting his arms around the kid, Dick didn't really have time to think about anything else before he noticed a ripple _directly_ below him? Water!

While Nightwing might have appreciated the kid playing pillow to cushion the impending collision with the lake below, Dick was sure that would increase the screaming. Or end it completely. And Dick couldn't have that.

Using his uncanny acrobatic abilities, and with a grunt to encourage the effort, Nightwing twisted in the air, to turn his body at the very last moment.

Fighting to maintain consciousness through the pain lancing across his back as he hit the water, Nightwing was unaware of the tremendous splash he had created upon contact, though he could feel a thunderous ringing throughout all of his head. He ached. And he had to get to air.

Stunned and feeling the cold of the waters around him, Dick took just a second to fish out a rebreather from his gauntlet pouches. Not for him, but for the poor kid in his arms. And while Dick wasn't the World's Greatest Detective, he was smart enough to notice which direction the bubbles were headed, and that's the way he pulled and kicked himself.

Unaware of how long he struggled though the chilled water, Dick was well aware that his back was telling him it was enough. His lungs burned. And just when he felt as though he couldn't go any further... air!

Breaking through to the surface, Dick gasped and panted, getting his breath back as he treaded and checked on the life in his arms. Alive. Thankfully. Now, just to get the little one to shore and then find out where that plane was headed and...

And that's when Nightwing realized that though the pounding in his head, someone was speaking to him.

"...are you... come in!... been trying to reach you for... Dick hear me, please..."

"Babs, your voice is angelic. A sonic sweetness that only exactly global positioning can bring... oh, and the kind of melodic allure that would read flight charts so well..."

"Oh no you don't, Dick Grayson. You're getting yourself to safety. Besides, it's already being handled."

Which meant that Batman was on it, Dick knew. "Can I get to them before he does?"

And there was a pause for a moment, and the silence was enough to tell Nightwing what he needed to know. This one had gotten away, and now Bruce was cleaning up his mess.

In all of his treading water, pain and frustration, Dick was aware that Barbara was spekaing to him again. "... and the boy? He okay?"

"He lived. And seems quite unhurt. Stunned and out of it, but very much breathing."

"What about you?"

"I lived too."

"Dick," Barbara scolded him through the earpiece. It paid to have a friend like Barbara, who was Oracle, an unknown information broker, of sorts. He knew her... well. And she knew how to find him, even when he couldn't find himself.

"Hey, just means you can nurse me back to full health later on..."

Chuckling a little, Oracle replied, "Maybe, we'll see flyboy. Just so you know your plane, it's keeping below radar. Without your little stunt, I wouldn't have been able to find it. And if I can't find it, that means Batman can't. So, no matter what Bruce says, you did help save the day."

"Small consolation, and I doubt it will save me the beratement later."

"You just get yourself ashore, cleaned up and taken care of. I've already 'anonymously' tipped an ambulance off to you. Head northeast, about five hundred feet and there should be a wharf... and Dick, be more careful next time, okay?"

"Roger doger, Babs. Just keep watching out for me."

"With you? I don't have a choice. Oracle out."

And with a click she was gone, leaving Nightwing to the cold. Squinting, he could make out the shoreline now, and so he began to pull himself in that direction, his limbs aching.

Who was it that had stolen that plane? Why? Where were they headed? Why the effort to stay below the radar line? Well, whatever the answers were, Batman was bound to find them out. But this had started in Bludhaven... not Batman's city, but *his* city. Dick would get to the bottom of this.

But first, he had to not sink to the bottom of the lake.

And that's about when the kid came around, and in spititng out the rebreather, began to cry again. Clutching onto Nightwing, the kid looked to the hero, wide-eyed, scared.

"I know, I still don't look like Superman," Dick said with a sigh, and just continued to make it to shore.

With his body facing away from the airstrip, a figure knelt, but still managed to keep his eyes on the action. He has been overseeing the takeover of the plane. He had watched it takeoff, and then the vigilante show up and 'tag along'. He had watched Blockbuster's arrival and then the fight there with Stallion and the kid that had rode in with Nightwing. He had watched Nightwing plumet from the plane. And now he was watching Nightwing swim to
shore, with the child in tow.

He also noticed exactly what child was with Nightwing.

Standing, the man hefted up his rather advanced weapon, and turned it to the airfield. He watched in the sight as Blockbuster's armed car roll away, with Stallion rolling off the top of it into a heap as it pulled away.

He could have attacked, and slain all of his opponents. But now was not the time. The timing wasn't right. Soon, it would be. This town would be set ablaze, and when the ashes covered the ground, only he who looked back would remain.

Walking away, he took comfort in the fact that he was the only one watching his own tracks. Hindsight was a bitch, and Dudley Soames was going to prove so soon enough.