Batman Beyond #8

“Oh, sorry, guess I skipped the introduction,” the man said. He held out a hand. “The name’s Dick Grayson. Nice to finally meet you, kid.”

Terry’s eyes widened with shock.

“I….I….um….” Still reeling from surprise, he couldn’t form his words.

“Relax, kid,” Dick said, grabbing Terry’s hand and giving it a brief shake. “I’m assuming Bruce has told you about me before, and that’s why your jaw is practically touching the floor.” He grinned.

“R-right,” Terry managed.

“Well, that’s understandable.” He turned to Bruce. “Well, now that he’s here, you want me to tell the whole story?”

“Let’s wait a second first to make sure he doesn’t pass out,” Bruce said sarcastically, taking his seat in front of the computer.

“I’m fine,” Terry said quickly. “Just tell me why the hell a guy who’s supposed to be in his sixties is standing in front of me looking like he’s no older than thirty-five,” he said calmly.

“Well, I gave Bruce a quick rundown earlier. We’ve been waiting for you to get here so I could go into more detail,” Dick explained. “If you’re ready, I’ll explain everything.”

Terry grabbed a nearby chair and sat backwards, propping his arms on the back.

“I have a feeling this will be a long story, so I hope you don’t mind if I take a seat.” Terry’s voice still seemed to carry an air of annoyance. He always hated surprises, and this one was a doozy.

“Not at all,” Dick replied calmly.

“Then, go ahead.”

Dick turned to Bruce; after a nod, Dick began his story.

“Okay, for the kid’s sake, I’ll explain a few things first… As I’m sure Bruce has already told you, I live in a city called Bludhaven. I’m also sure he told you I haven’t been Nightwing for about ten years; I retired ten years after Bruce. Since I gave up being a hero, I’ve been helping out by providing funding for the local police force. It’s not much, but at my age, there wasn’t much else I could do; my body couldn’t handle the stress it used to. Are you following me so far?”

“Yeah,” Terry replied.

“Good. Well, I wasn’t completely out of the game. I still had contacts that informed me of anything bad going on in the city that I needed to know about. I would get the information and supply it anonymously to the police, letting them take care of it. … But then, last week, I got information on something big going down… Someone was hosting an auction in the city, planning to sell some sort of powerful weapon. Normally, this is something I would just turn over to the police… but my informant had managed to find out what exactly was up for auction… A prototype of the new batsuit you’re wearing.”

“That’s total crap!” Terry said suddenly. “There’s no way anyone could build a new prototype without the plans and Bruce keeps those locked up nice and tight, right here in the cave.”

“That’s true, Terry,” Bruce agreed. “But somehow, someone got their hands on the schematics and built their own prototype.”

“Wait, they stole the plans?” Terry’s eyes narrowed. “Why the hell wasn’t I told about this?!”

“The plans are still here under lockdown,” Bruce assured. “Someone must have broken in and taken pictures of them, then taken them back to whoever they were working for. I never told you about this, Terry, but one day last month while I was upstairs, a silent alarm was tripped in the cave. But, by the time I got down here to check, no one was here and everything was in its place. I assumed maybe a bat had tripped it, like they do every once in a while… guess I was wrong.”

“You, admitting you’re wrong about something?” Terry asked. “This must be pretty serious.”

“It is serious,” Dick replied. “This is the prototype.” He pointed at his chest.

“Why the hell are you wearing it?” Terry snapped, more annoyed by the fact that he hadn’t noticed that Dick was actually in the suit until his attention was called to it.

“Well, if you’ll stop interrupting, I’ll tell you exactly why I’m wearing it,” Dick replied with a cold stare.

“Alright, fine,” Terry said. “Just hurry.”

“Anyway,” Dick continued, “I knew that if the police busted up the party and figured out what they had, they might be able to trace it back to Bruce, and, as much of a royal pain in the ass as he can be, I couldn’t let that happen.”

Bruce ignored Dick’s sentiment.

“I decided to infiltrate the auction myself and swipe the suit and schematics…. but when I got there, things got a bit more complicated…”



Damn it! Dick thought as he heard the auctioneer introduce the final item of the night. Guess Jimmy had his facts straight. That looks like one of Bruce’s toys.

He’d hoped his informant might have been wrong, for once, but not this time. This time, he was dead on and that meant trouble.

Dick scratched at his chin. The prosthetics were itchy; he couldn’t wait to get out of them. He couldn’t risk coming without a disguise; too many people might recognize Dick Grayson in Bludhaven; he was, after all, the owner of GrayTech, the largest, most technologically advanced establishment in the city.

He moved his hand away from his face; too much scratching and he might mess up the prosthetics.

His hair hung down just past his shoulders; that was one thing he didn’t need to hide, at least not here. There were plenty of odd characters here tonight from The ‘Haven’s underworld. Men and women wearing everything from suave, tailor-made tuxes and dresses to other characters from various cults wearing dingy robes and wild hairstyles. His long, gray hair wouldn’t draw too much attention.

The auctioneer continued his description of the item up for bid.

“This piece is also accompanied by a demonstration solely for the winning bidder’s eyes.” His accent was crisp and proper. “As I said before, the seller wishes to remain anonymous at this time, but assures that satisfaction is guaranteed. Now, we’ll start the bidding at ten thousand.”

“Ten thousand!” a husky, pink-haired woman called from the back.

“Fifteen!” a man in a leather jacket, sitting in the front row said, looking back at the woman with a challenging stare.

She gave him a dirty look and opened her mouth, but someone else beat her to the punch.

“Twenty-five thousand!” a young lady two rows in front of Dick said slowly in an almost bored tone.

Clearly, some of the bidders weren’t bothered by the fact that they had no idea who they were buying from.

The ones doing all the bidding are either very adventurous, or they’re just the ones with the most money to burn, Dick thought scanning the room, noting all of the bidders.

The total bid had gotten up to fifty thousand now, and was still going strong.

Hmmm, let’s see… That looks like Babyface Bronson two rows in front of me. Looks like she’s still keeping her regular appointments with the plastic surgeon. Guess she still can’t stand the thought of Father Time catching up with her.

Babyface had been head of one of the powerhouse gangs in Bludhaven for about as long as Dick had lived there, but, to the public eye, she hadn’t aged a day. Her immense vanity had made her the plastic surgeon’s best friend, throwing them countless thousands a year to fund her surgeries.

“Aww hell, I’m sicka dis low-roller bull#$&%! I bid one mil.!” a voice called from what couldn’t have been more than three rows behind Dick.

Dick knew immediately who it was; Timmy the Tool. He belonged to the Vermetti family; the second youngest of the family interrogators. His real name was Timothy Darwin Vermetti; he’d earned the nickname Timmy the Tool from his obsession with using power tools during his interrogations. So far, he’d never failed to get information during one of his ‘sessions’, and that’s why he was so indispensable to the family, despite that fact that he rubbed more than a few of them the wrong way.

There was a brief pause after Timmy’s bid, then a response came from down in front.

This time, the two Bellik brothers stood to their feet. Of course, when one stood, the other had little choice, seeing as they were conjoined twins. The blond one, named Billy, was mute, which meant his brother Bill did all the talking for both of them, and Bill was more than happy to be the voice box.

Their story was a tragic one to say the least; Bill and Billy hadn’t always been conjoined. At one time, they were simply twin brothers, rising through the ranks in their family. They were always close though, and as a team they made a name for themselves relatively quickly, forming their own mob. This made their brother, Billiam, green with envy.

Billiam, being the oldest, had had to work very hard to get to where he was, so it angered him that his younger brothers were surpassing him with such little effort, so he decided to do something about it. He betrayed them, selling them out to a rival mob. They were lured into a trap at the docks where a large bomb was detonated; the blast was intended to kill them. Luck smiled on them though, as some of their men found them and took them to the finest surgeons the underworld had to offer. The problem was that there were certain body parts that had been completely wrecked, so, in order for them both to survive, they were conjoined.

“We’re gunna be takin dat suit home tonight!” Bill said, Billy nodding in agreement. “We bid two mil.!”

“How the hell are you two even gonna use the f&$%#*& suit?!” Timmy the Tool bellowed. “It ain’t exactly designed with freaks in mind.”

“Why, I oughta break yer face fer dat!” Bill threatened, raising a fist towards Timmy.

“Come on over here an try it, ya damn freakshow!”

More and more people stood up, eager to pick a side before the bloodshed started. Bloodshed excited people a little too much in this town.

I’ve seen more than enough, Dick thought bitterly.

He made a subtle motion with his right hand, giving the signal his partner had been waiting for.

Someone in a brown trench coat stood up and made his bid.

“I bid fifteen million creds!” he said in a deep, echoing voice.

The room grew silent, everyone looking back at this mysterious new bidder with widened eyes. Finally Bill Bellik broke the silence.

“Well, screw dis, I ain’t gunna try to top dat! C’mon, Billy, let’s get da hell outta here.” Billy nodded his agreement as they walked away.

The crowd muttered amongst themselves. Dick could clearly make out some unhappy remarks from a few of them. His plan was working perfectly; disguising himself as James Hopewell had, so far, gone according to plan. None of ‘James’s’ old contacts thought anything of his sudden reemergence after all these years. Dick had made it a point to figure how James would look after several years, applying the necessary changes to his mask and altering his voice, just to make sure they bought it. He also decided to throw in a slight hunch for good measure.

Michael Hart had been all too willing to help his old pal ‘James Hopewell’ with his most unusual request, but then Michael was always one that would take on anything if the pay was right.

Dick had given him specific instructions on what to do during the auction, and he’d fulfilled his role perfectly.

The two of them met up in the hall after everyone else who hadn’t made a purchase had gone.

Dick gave Michael another set of instructions.

“Listen, Mike,” Dick said in a hushed whisper. “Here’s what I need you to do now. Since you’re last on the list to receive their items, there won’t be anyone behind you to rush things.”

“Right,” Mike said with an eager nod. It was clear he couldn’t wait till this was over and he received his pay.

“Now, when you get in there, stall them as long as you can while my guys sneak into the hold and swipe the suit.”

“You got it, Mr. Hopewell.”

“Now remember, I gave you enough creds to give them a down payment to shut them up if worse comes to worst, but that’s a last resort.”

“Got it.”

“And if things go according to plan and you don’t have to blow those creds on the suit, they’ll be your payment.”

“But, how will I get paid if I have to use the creds?” Mike asked worriedly. The thought of not receiving his payment had him concerned.

“Don’t worry,” Dick assured. “If that happens, you’ll still get paid.”

A smile returned to Mike’s face. “Alrighty then, Mr. Hopewell, is that all?”

“Yeah, that’s it, Mike. Be careful in there.”

“I will, sir. It’s good to have you back in The ‘Haven again.”

“It’s good to be back, Mike,” Dick replied, masking his disdain for this slimy, no-good suck-up.

He made his way towards the exit.



“And that’s about the part where things went to hell,” Dick explained.

Terry was still sitting on the reversed chair with his arms propped on the back, his chin resting in his forearm. Bruce leaned back in his own chair, index fingers pressed to his lips, in deep thought.

“What?” Dick asked, pausing his story for a moment. “Am I boring you two?”

“No,” Bruce replied coldly. “Go on.”

Dick sighed. “Alright, I left the building and drove to a nearby safehouse. It hadn’t been used for a few years, so there was a good bit of dust, but it served its purpose. I changed into one of my old suits and infiltrated the auction storehouse.”



Alright, it took me about eleven minutes to get back here… Better hurry up. Mike can only stall them for so long, Nightwing thought as he crept into the storehouse through a window.

The room was filled with various items: crates, vehicles, priceless treasures; most of them probably stolen.

Instinct made him stop shortly after entering. At first glance, it seemed there was no security system in place, but he knew better.

Taking a handful of capsules from a pouch on his belt, he tossed them across the floor. On impact the capsules released a cloud of fog, revealing infrared beams lining Nightwing’s path.

Figures, he thought with contempt. Let’s see… I could try avoiding every single beam, taking time I don’t have and endangering Mike’s life even more, or I find the power source and shut it down. The problem there: the power source could be linked to the main auction house, meaning I’d alert them… Damn, I hate no-win situations!

He didn’t have time to waste, he had to act fast. He scanned the room, looking for a way to kill the power. Either way, he took a risk, but this seemed to be the best option of the two.

Something caught his attention; footsteps, heading his way. There was no time to get through the beams to the door; he was too far across the room.

Dammit! Guess Mike couldn’t hold them long enough, Nightwing thought in annoyance. That means they’re coming to get the suit… Gotta think fast….

A thin beam of light entered the room as the large mechanical doors slid open, two shadows stepping into view.

Nightwing moved fast, he had no choice. His muscles ached; he was too old for this now, but he couldn’t let that stop him.

The guards had just turned off the security system by remote control when he felt a rough blow to the back of his head. He fell to the floor, out cold. His partner, hearing the noise, spun on his heels, gun at the ready. He caught sight of a shadow just at the edge of the light beaming through the doorway and fired a shot instinctively.

A cold sweat formed on his brow; he’d been in this business for years, but nothing like this had ever happened. He could feel eyes on him, but where from?

Before he could get another bead on his target, a heavy blow connected to his jaw, coming from the right. He collapsed in a heap on the cold, hard floor.

“Well,” Nigtwing said quietly, his breathing a little heavier than he’d like to admit. “guess I did pretty good, considering my age.”

He turned around, his muscles tense and aching. He spotted the suit and walked over to it. The suit was blank, no symbols or markings on it anywhere. He pulled it out of its glass case, throwing it over his shoulder.

Well, I’ve got what I came for. Time to get the hell outta Dodge.

Suddenly, he heard a voice coming from outside.

“Marco! Smith! What’s keeping you guys? You shoulda been back by now!”

As soon as the guard got to the door and saw his buddies on the ground, he’d sound the alarm, and, with the way Nightwing felt, there was no way he’d be able to deal with an entire team of guards. He had only one option.

Quickly ducking behind a tall stack of metal crates, he took off his suit, leaving only his mask, and slipped into the prototype.

He set the other suit on the floor and whispered a code-phrase, “Code 88 Delta.”

As he finished the phrase, the suit sparked, then, disappeared with a brief flash.

Good thing I installed those self-destruct sequences in my suits and masks all those years ago. Also a good thing I took the time to make each an individual code, he thought with satisfaction. Okay, if I’m not mistaken, Bruce had a stealth-mode on this thing.

He hit the button on the front of the belt. Instantly, the stealth-shield activated, masking him from sight.

He moved quickly for the door. He was almost at the door when the other guard stepped inside; a few more steps, and he’d see his friends out cold.

Avoiding him wouldn’t be a problem; he just had to stay quiet.

Just as Nightwing was about to pass him, the suit’s stealth-mode deactivated.

The guard jumped as Nightwing suddenly materialized next to him. He went for his gun, but Nightwing met his chin with a hard uppercut before he could reach the holster.

Great! Nightwing thought in frustration. Whoever made this suit did a crappy job. Bruce, what the hell have you gotten me into this time?

He stuck his head out of the door; so far, no other guards were coming to check things out.

He still had one more order of business to attend to before his departure: to find out who was selling the prototype.

The auctioneer had better tell me what I need to know, cuz I’m in a really bad mood, he thought, rushing towards the main auction house.

To Be Continued…


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