#36: Being Better Than A Hero (Vasquez / Howard)

The cape and cowl don’t feel right… they haven’t since I started to wear them. Everything looks different; everything looks darker and in despair through these lenses. Things seemed to be brighter and more light-hearted when I was young and they seemed hopeful and optimistic just before everything in Gotham went to hell. My hands feel like they are controlled from outside my body every time I put them in these scalloped gloves and the yellow oval on my chest feels more like a weight keeping me from breathing normally. It seems that no matter how many times I put them on, I can’t get them to feel like they’re mine.

Maybe it’s due to the years I’ve spent trying to forge my own legacy, trying to be my own man and deep down, part of me resents putting this uniform on because it’s a step back into the shadow that I’ve been trying to escape from. I wanted to be better, I wanted to be more than the back half to Batman and. It’s probably why I continue to be Nightwing and part of the Titans, to feel comfortable, to feel like I’m in my own skin.

But deep down, I know that Gotham needs its protector, it needs it’s personification of justice. It needs to know that despite the widespread destruction caused by the Joker, its knight is still alive and patrolling the streets at night. No matter what kind of reputation I can build being Nightwing, isn’t good enough for Gotham City and that probably gets to me more than anything else and keeps me from really feeling that this mantle is mine.

That feeling of not being good enough doesn’t help any when I see what’s going on in the city. Since what’s known on the streets as 'Mr. J Day', Gotham’s gang-land map is constantly being re-drawn through a series of bloody gang wars. It’s not just the old guard that’s looking to expand their territory and influence, its new upstarts, seeing an opportunity to get in on the action that they couldn’t before, taking advantage of the chaotic aftermath and a thinly stretched GCPD.

Even places that were once considered off-limits were now subject to takeover. Old Gotham was one of those places. It was a posh-retro style neighborhood that was once home to a bohemian movement in the 60s. It’s most famous for being the home to the Gotham Clocktower, overlooking Burchette Square, which acted as a meeting place and a center for cultural activity.

Now it has become the territory for an upstart gang calling the LoBoyz and they have wasted no time in terrorizing the people and businesses that have remained in the area. They required everyone to pay tribute to them or be made an example of. They also began to recruit children into their ranks, to run numbers and smuggle drugs among other illegal activities. One of the places they have targeted as a recruiting ground was St. Jude’s Orphanage, which is what brings me here tonight.

After my parents died, the then Lt. Gordon brought me to St. Jude’s to stay while arrangements were being made for to become my legal guardian. It had fallen on some rough times since my stay there, but thanks to considerable contributions from the Wayne Foundation, it’s managed to keep its doors open. I’ve tried to keep it on my patrols since I came back to Gotham, but with so much going on throughout the city, I haven’t been able to keep as close of a watch on it as I would like. The Friars and Nuns that run it have been recent targets of brutality for standing up to the LoBoyz. So far, the one name that I really care about hasn’t shown up on the police blotter and I’m here to make sure it stays that way.

It doesn’t take me long after crossing Moench Row before I start hearing trouble. I follow a woman’s scream to an alley adjacent to the Church of St. Anthony. I jump down and see three gang-bangers beating on a woman, while a teenager hides behind a dumpster near the back of the ally, with a Rosary wrapped around his hands and reciting a Hail Mary. I snap my cape out and on cue, the assailants look up. I can see the interlocking L and O on each of their necks, showing their allegiance to the LoBoyz.

Two run towards the back of the ally and one tries to escape through the front. I land on that one and drive him into the ground hard. I can feel the breath squeeze out of his body and a couple of bones crack. I use him as a springboard and somersault towards the end of the alley and the other LoBoyz. One reaches the fire escape at the end of the ally and tries to climb it. He grabs the bottom rung and pulls up as I reach the apex of my jump and fire two batarangs. They both find their mark just below the knuckles, causing him to release the bar and fall on his back. His head snaps and hits the pavement.

There’s one more left and with his intentions of following his friend up the fire escape dashed, he pulls out a switch blade and grabs the kid. Before he could place the blade to his throat, I grab my escrima sticks and fling one to the back wall. It ricochets off and hits him in the back of the head. I grab it as it bounces off of his head, and as I land, I strike down on his chest with the butt of one stick and use the other to bash the back of his knee, cutting him down before he could harm the boy.

I look over the kid and he seems physically unhurt, thought he keeps holding on to that rosary and reciting his Hail Mary’s. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a nun’s habit. It’s stepped on, torn and bloody. I see the woman writhing on the ground and see that she has had her robe torn from the waist down. I take off my cape and rush towards her, covering her up.

“It’s okay Sister, everything will be…”I begin to say as I turn her over, but I begin to trail off as I see who the victim is. It’s the one person I came here hoping to stop this from happening. “My God,” I said, forgetting my Batman voice. “Sister Clarice…”

Then…

Dick Grayson hadn’t moved much since he was brought to the St. Jude’s Orphanage. Right after Lt. Gordon dropped him off, one of the Sisters had shown him to his room, but he couldn’t stay there much longer. He replayed the events of his parents’ death over and over again, feeling if he didn’t he would forget and he never wanted to. He wanted to remember every single detail, every single emotion so when he found the monster that did it, he could make him feel everything, make him suffer the way he was. Soon the rage building inside of him began to overtake him and he let out a scream and punched the wall, putting an imprint of his knuckles in the plaster and busting them open. He felt his hand start to throb, but it didn’t hurt. He just fell back into the wall and slid down to the floor, putting his head in his hands and started to cry harder.

I can’t stay here, Dick thought as he began to breathe harder and the room started to spin. He got up and crept toward the door and opened it slowly. He looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear and walked out of his room. He tried to be as stealthy as he could, but his breathing was growing more and more ragged and his sight was getting more and more blurred. He was no longer creeping and was now stumbling around the halls of the orphanage. Dick felt as though he was about to pass out when he fell down into a bed of gravel. Dick’s breathing and vision returned to normal and found himself to be outside.

Dick sat up on his knees and brushed the gravel off of his body. He saw flowers all around the circular gravel path he was in and in the center of this courtyard was a statue of Jesus, with a halo around his head and his arms stretched out. Dick remembered all the times he attended services with his parents. They had always insisted, no matter what town they were in at the time, that Dick be raised with the values of the church and always told him that no matter what, God loved him and would always be there for him. Rage boiled back up in Dick as he grabbed a handful of gravel and threw it at the statue. He grabbed another and another, with each throw tears streaming down his face and he kept throwing until his fingers reached the dirt underneath. Dick fell to the ground, placing his forehead on his arms, crying and wishing God took him instead of his parents.

Dick’s grieving was momentarily stopped by a bright light spilling out from the entrance to the courtyard. Dick sat up and shielded his eyes as the light was so radiant, he thought it might have been day time. Dick saw someone coming through the door, but couldn’t make out any features, but he could tell it was one of the sisters, as he could see the outline of the habit and robe. The light dissipated and he could see that this Sister was one he hadn’t met yet. She was significantly younger than her colleagues. Her face was beautiful and Dick was hypnotized by her smile which seemed just as radiant as the light that preceded her entrance. Under different circumstances, Dick might have fallen in love, but the events of what happened earlier that night flooded back into his mind and he started to feel guilty and sad.

“Are you alright, Richard?” she asked as she walked towards him. “Do you want to be alone or is it okay if I sit here?” She asked while pointing to the bench behind Dick. Dick even found her voice soothing and enchanting, but he didn’t respond and just looked into the ground.

“I like coming out here to pray,” She continued as she sat down, but Dick continued to remain silent. “By the way, my name is Clarice.”

“Sister Clarice…” Dick began, still looking at the ground. “I know you were probably checking up on me. If it’s okay, I just want to be left alone.”

“Okay, well… I’m just going to sit here in case you want to talk,” Sister Clarice said. “I kinda know what you’re going through. I lost my parents too.”

“What happened to them?” Dick asked, looking up.

“Car accident… the other person was drinking…” Sister Clarice said, patting the space next to her on the bench.

"Does it ever stop hurting?” Dick asked as he got up and sat next to her.

“I wish I could say it does,” Clarice said as she put her arm around the young boy and he leaned on her. “But with time and God’s Grace, we can get through the tough times.”

“Sister Clarice, my parents always told me that God loves me. And that he’s all powerful and knows everything, even the future.”

“They were right.”

“Then why does he let bad things happen? Why couldn’t he stop that man from killing them? Why did he let my parents die?”

“Richard,” Clarice said as she got off the bench and knelt in front of Dick so she could look him in the eyes. “I can’t answer why God does what he does. The will of the divine is something that is beyond our ability to understand. All I know is that God has given us a great gift and that’s the gift of free will, the gift to choose our own path in this world. That monster that killed your parents… he chose to do that, he chose to do evil and I promise you Richard, he will answer to God for what he did.”

“I want to kill him,” Dick said as he began to cry.

“Will that make things better?” Clarice asked as she wiped away Dick’s tears. “Will that bring them back?”

“No,” Dick sniffled.

“Richard, certain things are going to happen to us in life, and it’s up to us whether we allow ourselves to be consumed with grief, hurt and rage… or we allow ourselves to become better people because of them.”

[/b]

Those words that Sister Clarice said to me saved my life that night. Months after, I finally managed to confront my parents’ killer as Robin. I remember grabbing him by the lapels and slamming him against the wall, holding up a batarang and holding it so tight, that it started to cut through my glove and made my hand bleed. I wanted to stab him for each day that went since he ruined my life. Sister Clarice’s words echoed in my head at that moment and I had a choice: was I going to go let myself be consumed with my grief and rage and follow the same path as this man did, or was I going to be a better man? Last time I checked, he’s still in jail. I don’t know if I would’ve become to the same decision if I had never been sent to St. Jude’s and met Sister Clarice. I owe her a lot and when she needed me the most, I let her down.

After a call to Alfred and a change of wardrobe, we went down to Kane County Hospital. I jumped out once it was in view, not even allowing Alfred to stop the car. I ran through the doors and into the Emergency Room reception area and to the next available receptionist.

“Hi, I’m looking for…”

“My goodness… Richard?” A familiar voice interrupts me. I look and see a group of nuns and one walking towards me. Even though her face is swollen and bruised, she still smiles and it’s as radiant as ever. She opens her arms and gives me a hug which I immediately return. “I’m so glad to see you; I could recognize your voice anywhere.”

“I rushed down here as soon as I heard,” I said as I inspected her face. She sheepishly pulled away, not wanting me to see.

“Mr. Grayson,” I hear another familiar voice. It’s Detective Renee Montoya, holding a pad and pen and accompanied by two uniformed officers. “If you don’t mind…”

“It’s okay Renee,” Sister Clarice interrupted. “Richard and I are good friends. He can stay, plus I don’t have anything more to tell you.”

“Okay Sister.” Renee said making a note on her pad. “We’ll keep a unit posted outside of St. Jude’s, in case this gang decides to pay a visit. If you need anything, day or night, call me,” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her card “This is has my home and cell numbers on the back.”

“Thank you Renee,” Clarice said as she grabbed the card from Renee. “Renee, if you don’t mind me asking, how come you stopped coming to mass at St. Anthony’s? I miss our chats.”

“I do too…. but let’s just say that the Church and I don’t see eye to eye on some issues right now,” Renee explained.

“When you’re ready, God will welcome you back with open arms.” Clarice said. “And don’t forget that he loves you, no matter what anyone else may say.”

“Thank you sister,” Renee said, her cheeks turning a little red. “Do you need a ride back to St. Jude’s?”

“I’ll give them a ride Detective,” I offer. “We’ve got plenty of room in the car.”

“That’s good, because we have a lot of reminiscing to do,” Clarice said as she smiled at me.

“Okay. Remember to lock up early tonight.” Renee said as the rest of the nuns nodded in agreement while she left. The two guards tipped their caps as they followed her out.

I spent the next couple of hours catching up with Sister Clarice. The last time I saw her was when I left Gotham for New York. I tried to get her to talk about the attack, but she just kept changing the subject. She did tell me how happy she was that the boy that was with her was okay and how hard it was keeping the kids away from the gangs. While I was there, I checked around and nothing seemed out of place. I offered to take her to Wayne Manor and even have Wayne Tech Security brought to the orphanage, but she was steadfast in staying and her belief in the police. Regardless, I knew I would have to pay a visit later on.

After a change of clothes, I went back out to Old Gotham and checked on the orphanage. I landed on the roof and see the police unit still stationed outside. The perimeter was secure. Inside was normal, though I did see the boy that was with Clarice when she was attacked roaming the halls, before entering his room. I left the garden for last and when I went to check it, I found Sister Clarice there, sitting on the bench in front of the statue of Jesus, and I could hear her crying.

“Why God?” I heard her say. “Have I not been a good servant? Have I not done your will? Why did this happen to me?”

A wave of guilt washed over me as I watched her sobbing on that bench. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the search light of a GCPD blimp began to pass over the orphanage and I retreated into the shadows. For a moment, the blimp stopped over the stature of Jesus and the light shown directly on top of it. Once the blimp passed, I no longer heard Sister Clarice crying, but now she was kneeling in front of the statue and began to recite the Lord’s Prayer.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...“

As she begins, I see three shadowy figures emerge from the other side of the courtyard. The blimp passed over them for a second, but I could see were a couple of LoBoyz.

“...Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven...“

They were making their way to Sister Clarice, who was deep in her prayer. I began to sprint for the edge of the roof.

“...Give us this day our daily bread...”

I can tell they each have blades as the moonlight glistens off of them.

“...And forgive us our trespasses; as we forgive those who trespass, against us...“

I reach the edge of the roof and I leap and hope I make it in time.

“...And lead us not into temptation...“

I see the closest one to Sister Clarice raise his hand, ready to strike. I hear one of them say look out as they spot me. I stick out my foot as they all look up.

“...But deliver us from evil.”

My foot connects with the thug’s chest and sends him flying away from Sister Clarice. I land in a crouch and I grab the wrist of the next closest gang member. I spring up and uppercut him, landing the punch flush on his jaw, then in one motion, grab the back of his head and bring it down as I bring my knee up. I can feel rage boiling inside of me and I’m losing myself to it. The last one gets a thrust kick to the jaw, causing him to do a flip before landing on his back. I pounced on his and began to pound his face and after a couple of punches, I reached for a batarang to plunge into his neck, just like I wanted to do to my parents’ killer. And like then, I heard Sister Clarice’s voice, this time literally.

“Stop it, that’s enough,” she yelled.

“After what they did to you, they deserve worse,” I yell back, realizing that I forgot to use my Batman voice, something I know Sister Clarice picked up.

“What they deserve is for God to decide,” She replied.

“The same God that let their friends do what they did?” I said, gripping the batarang so tight, my arm was starting to tremble.

“If you’re still looking for an answer to why God lets bad things happen, then I’m sorry to disappoint, because I still don’t have an answer,” Clarice said as she walked over to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “But if going through that was supposed to bring me here, to where I could be in this position to stop you from doing something that you’ll regret and save your soul, then that’s a sacrifice I would make any place, any time, and anywhere.”

When she placed her hand on my shoulder, it was as if all of the rage in my body dissolved and I could see clearly. This kid was already beaten, bloody and unconscious. If I went further and crossed the line, there would be no coming back.

“I should’ve been there to stop it,” I said as I dropped the kid.

“We all fall short, it’s part of being human,” She said as she cupped my cheek. “But we can take those shortcomings and become better, use them to be more than what we are and from what I can tell, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing with the adversity that comes in your life. And you shouldn’t stop now.”

“Freeze!” I hear a police officer yell from the entrance of the courtyard, fashionably late as usual.

"Go, get out of here,” Sister Clarice said as I made my exit. I stuck around in the shadows to make sure so surprises happened as they arrested and took the three gang members away. Once the scene was clear, I started my usual patrol and went out to send a message to the LoBoyz, hitting a lot of their corners and street level pushers. They were all too willing to let me know where the heavy hitters were doing business and soon paid them a visit as well. Soon, it was on the street that Batman was after the LoBoyz hard and they started running scared.





My heart sank immediately after hearing that over the police radio and immediately made my way to St. Jude’s as fast as I could and got there as they were taking Sister Clarice’s lifeless body away. The courtyard was flooded with officers and detectives taking statements from the nuns, friars and students, while CSI personnel combed it for evidence. In the corner I recognized Detective Montoya, who seemed to be wiping tears from her eyes. I made my way over to her and dropped down, making enough noise to get her attention. She drew her fire arm at me.

“My God, don’t do that,” She said as she holstered her weapon.

“How did this happen?” I ask.

“The boy, the one she was with when she was initially attacked…”

“He did this?” I was in complete shock.

“Yeah,” Renee said as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “The ink on his LoBoyz tat hasn’t even dried yet. Turns out he was a real trouble maker around here and the rest of the staff were looking to get rid of him, but Sister Clarice always stood up for him. When she was attacked the first time, it was because she was trying to stop him from joining that gang. The second time, the one you stopped earlier, as part of his gang initiation he snuck those kids in and once they failed, he used a gun he had hidden in the wall of his room and shot her in the chest.”

“Why didn’t she say anything?”

“She believed in him, believed he was a good person inside, Even though all of the others wanted him out, Sister Clarice always stood up for him,” Renee said, wiping away more tears. “You want to know what one of the officers told me, that while he was subduing him on the ground next to her, she used her final breath to forgive him.”

We can be largely defined by the way we handle the tragedy and adversity that we encounter in life. I’ve suffered so much in my life that I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, but each time I used it as motivation and came out of it better than I was before. I did it when my parents died and I became Robin, I used my grief and anger to hunt down those that would do to others what they did to. After my incident with the Joker and my firing by Batman, I used that to forge my own identity as Nightwing. When Bruce died, I did realize how important it is that I keep Batman going, but I still saw it as belonging to Bruce. I was always using Bruce’s suit, Bruce’s toys, and it seemed as if I was just a stand-in.

I forgot the lesson that Sister Clarice taught me all those years ago.

Being Batman for me has to be more than being a hero. I was a hero as Nightwing and if I don’t try and be better, I’ll always feel like I’m just filling someone else’s shoes. It doesn’t discount everything I’ve done and the name I made for myself as Nightwing, and I realize that I wasn’t stepping back into Bruce’s shadow by being Batman… I am the shadow now.

I need to be better because villains need to know that someone is out there hunting them. I need to be better because the innocent need to know there’s someone out there that will protect them at all costs. I need to be better for Gotham. I need to be better for Tim and Alfred, who are depending on me. And I need to be better for the people who are no longer with me, for Sister Clarice, Bruce and my parents.

I need to be better than a hero.

I need to be a legend and legends can never die.

And now, I find the cape and cowl to feel like a second skin.



“Richard, are you ready and packed?” Sister Clarice said as she entered the room of the boy. “We don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Yeah, I’m ready to go,” Dick Grayson said with a sigh as he closed his suitcase.

“Is something wrong?” Sister Clarice asked as she walked towards him.

“I guess I’m nervous… and a little scared.”

“Richard, you don’t have anything to be scared of,” Clarice said as she knelt in front of Dick to get to his eye level. “I’ll admit that I had some trepidation about Bruce Wayne, but he’s really proven that he’s sincere about becoming your guardian. And if I had any doubts, there is no way I would let you go with him.” Clarice smiled at Dick who smiled back. She grabbed his hand and he grabbed his suitcase and they made their way to the exit.

“Sister Clarice, I have a question I want to ask you...”

“Sure, anything.”

“You’re a lot younger than the other nuns here,” Dick started.

“Well, they were young at some point too Richard,” She said with a smile.

“But I’ve never seen a nun as young as you. I was just wondering why you became one.”

“I can assure you that there are nuns as young as me and maybe even younger, but if you want to hear how I became one, I’ll gladly tell you. And it’s a good story too.”

“Okay,” Dick said with his eyes beaming.

“It was my final year of college--”

“You went to college?”

“Yes, and as a matter of fact, everyone else here has as well. It’s encouraged by the church. Like I was saying, it was my final year and I was writing my thesis,” She looked down at Dick who had a confused look on his face. “Have you done essays in school?” Dick nodded yes. “Well, a thesis is like a giant essay you have to do in order to finish college.”

After Dick gave her a nod of understanding, she continued. “Anyway, I had stayed up all night working on it the day before it was due and about 8 o’clock that morning I finally finished it. So I printed it and walked to my professor’s office. I don’t remember much about the walk. I was probably sleepwalking,” They both chuckled. “But when I got to the office door and touched the handle, I received a vision from God and he showed me what he wanted me to do with my life.”

“Wow, really?” Dick asked as she opened the exit door.

“Yup,” Clarice said as she led Dick outside, where they felt a faint drizzle. “I threw my thesis in the trash and went to the local parish and here I am today.”

“Wow, that was a cool story,” Dick said as he looked ahead and saw a man in a suit and tie standing in front of a black town car. He stood still like a statue with his hands clasped in front of him. “Sister, what if I don’t like it there? Can I come back?”

“Of course, you’re always welcome here, but I think you’re going to be just fine with Mr. Wayne.”

Dick dropped his suitcase and gave Sister Clarice one last hug. “Sister?”

“Yes, Richard?”

“Do you think God will reveal to me what he wants me to do? Like he did with you?”

“Of course I do,” Clarice said as she let him go. She gently pushed him away so she could see his face. “How and what he wants are different for every person, but I have a feeling that he has something great in store for you. And remember, I’ll always keep you in my prayers, everyday.”

Dick grabbed the suitcase and started to walk towards the man, but hesitated and turned around. Sister Clarice stood there and smiled at him. He smiled back and continued to walk towards the man.

“Hello, Mister Grayson,” the man said in a British accent, “my name is Alfred Pennyworth and it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Master Wayne’s butler, and I am to take you to Wayne Manor where he is eagerly waiting for us both.”

The man took Dick’s briefcase and opened the car door for him. Dick climbed inside with the sound of bats chirping in the background.