Fish and Bits

The End of the Beginning (pt.3)

A/n- This chapter is a little shorter than usual, since this is just a filler that didn't exactly fit into the next one or the previous one.

     Hours had passed yet again. The batcave had been filled with speculations, the beginnings of debates, moments of laugher and the heavy breathing that accompanied the physical training. To pass the time and make the waiting more bearable, Bruce and Barbara, alongside Dick Grayson, had spent the previous hours tackling old cases, new cases and warming up for the inevitable ahead. It had been a very productive afternoon that carried on into the late evening. At one point, Alfred had even been commandeered into procuring some mannequins for target practice. For the record, Alfred made sure that everyone knew that none of the mannequins made it out of that ordeal in one piece.

     "What time is it now?" Dick swung upside down from a set of uneven parallel bars, watching Bruce with impatient and energetic eyes. His hair moved to cover his eyes slightly as he vaulted himself off the bars, flipping around mid-air to land upright on his feet, showing off as much as he was practicing. The intrusion of his vision from his bangs failing to impede the graceful act. "We've been waiting for hours. And Finny won't stop staring at me! It's extremely unnerving..." He shuddered slightly as he walked to stand beside the hunched over figure.

     "He's due to arrive any minute now. How about you take Finny out to the steps while you wait? Barbara and I will suit up as you do that. Be quick about it." He waved his hand dismissively at the agitated acrobat, not bothering to turn his back to face him as he talked. He was engrossed in a sort of chemical experiment, not even daring to blink lest something go wrong and he ended up covered in acid burns.

     Groaning out of frustration, Dick hoisted the tank up off the counter and steadily made his way out of the batcave, muttering threats at the fish and warning him not to do try and pull anything on him. Pushing open the grandfather clock with his back, he stepped into the study with minimal spillage coming from the tank. He uttered a string of curse words under his breath, keeping it quiet to avoid being heard by Alfred. Using his hip to slide the grandfather clock back over the entrance, he walked over to the front doors where he set the tank down on the floor in order to open them.

     Having propped the doors open with the bust of some long forgotten historical figure, he slid the tank along to floor where it came to a stop on the front step. He leaned against the doorframe, slightly out of breath from all the exercise combined with carrying a hefty, water filled tank up stairs. 

     Brushing his hair out of his face, Dick closed the door behind him then ran down to the batcave where Bruce and Barbara had already gotten dressed in their suits. Rushing past them, Dick flung his on in his eagerness not to miss out on any of the action. Running towards them, his mask clutched in his hand as he hadn't had time to put it on yet, he skidded to a stop in front of the two, panting. "There! Everything's ready. What now? We sit in the batmobile and wait for any sign of the Joker on the security cameras?"

     "There's no need for that yet. As of now, you'll go outside to patrol the surrounding area, just to observe which direction they're coming from and to warn us in advance when they do show up. Batgirl and I will prepare the batmobile and finish up these antidotes to the toxin. I have a feeling that we'll need them tonight and we won't be going out there unprepared." He pulled the cowl down over his face, then lowered his torso over the counter laden with empty syringes and a flask of ominously purple chemicals, presumably the antidote.

     "You got it." Backing up towards the stairs for what felt like the twentieth time today, Nightwing held up his hands, making finger guns at Batman before once more sprinting up the stairs of the cave. Darting past Alfred, he leapt out of an open window and landed neatly on the ground. From there, he grabbed onto a low hanging branch of a tree and swung himself higher up into the canopy. On a normal day of patrolling, he would have opted to take a vehicle but he assumed that he would be shortly returning to the cave or else hitching a ride in the batmobile with Batman, as Batgirl preferred a motorcycle. 

     As Nightwing travelled from tree to tree, he hummed an upbeat melody to himself. Obviously he was excited to get some action. He, unlike Bruce, found entertainment within the morality of this style of crime fighting. Being a performer at heart, he appreciated the somewhat fantastical element, and found an odd sort of comfort in dressing up at night. It reminded him of dressing in his suit to preform acrobatics in front of the crowds...

     With a frown, he shook the thoughts and recollections from his mind. He did not have time to get caught up in the wounds from his past. He would deal with them later. Right now, all that mattered was keeping a watchful eye out for a recklessly driving, most likely purple, car. He smiled to himself in anticipation, looking forward to the prospect of wiping the smirk of that obnoxious, insufferable fish. He shuddered involuntarily, the thought of Finny making his skin crawl and his hair stand on edge. He couldn't put it to words, but something about that fish just felt wrong. Maybe it was in the way it moved, or the way that when it watched him it seemed to understand everything he said, everything he thought. But that was ridiculous, fish couldn't read minds, let alone a fish that had been exposed to the Joker toxin. But then again...

     He was shaken from his thoughts as a roaring engine sputtered past him. The distant sounds of laughter echoed from the insides of the vehicle. Reaching to his ear, he tuned into the comm system to alert those in the batcave that the Joker was headed their way. Having done so, he sprang into pursuit of the vehicle, rushing along the rooftops and leaping across gaps between gutters. This had always been one of his favourite parts of the job. The running, the chasing, the buildup of adrenaline. He was forcefully reminded of a play, maybe and opera, or a musical, in which the background music would steadily build up in pace as the antagonist and protagonist hurtle towards each other. The music getting faster and faster, the characters becoming more and more anxious as they both eventually realize where the plot is going, that they have to fight, they don't have a choice they-

     His thoughts were cut off once more as he collided with a telephone pole. He would have to come up with another excuse as to how he got a black eye this time. He knew that Bruce wouldn't believe him, this happened much to often to always be an impromptu fight with a thug. Perhaps this time he would just sat that a bird flew into his face at the wrong moment.

     Shaking his head to clear his thoughts and quell the dizziness, he once more ran off on the tail of the car, his cheeks going red with the embarrassment of running into yet another telephone pole, the third this week.

     On the front doorstep of Wayne Manor, Finny the fish was swimming back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He resembled the human habit of pacing, perhaps a little too accurately.