Nightwing: Legacy

Chapter 7.1

Thomas walked through a dark alley. It was nighttime, and the trash on the ground put a foul smell in his nose. His face was pale and beaded with sweat.

His shirt was still ruined, but despite his broken leg he was on his feet-barely even limping. The wounds on his face were closed and as his fingers gripped his arms you could see the nails grown back.

He kept walking, using the brick wall for support as two thugs approached him.

"What're you doing down here, kid?" One asked.

The other tapped his shoulder, "dude, that's the Wayne kid."

"Then he'll have plenty of cash to give. Hey kid, wallet, phone, now!"

Thomas couldn't even look at him. Something was very wrong. Something—the man put his hand on Thomas's shoulder. Thomas drove his fist into the man's stomach, acting on instinct.

He flew across the alley, hitting the other wall. Thomas looked at the second thug.

"Shit, you're one of them crazies," the man spoke, running away in terror.

Thomas watched him go, feeling a burning sensation around his eyes. And the voice in his head, speaking to him:

Show them who you are.

***

Jason stood in the middle of Thomas's room. Right in between the couch and bed. He looked around the room. The blanket was half off the bed. A leather jacket was thrown over the back of a couch, and a black travel case was on the coffee table.

In the corner where the dresser was, the top drawer was open and the hamper was overflowing.

The bathroom door was cracked and a half drunk bottle of soda was on the desk next to a white coffee mug.

Jason walked around and sat on the couch, turning on the TV. It opened to the news, where there was a report about another bombing.

"...victims of the blast are exhibiting the same symptoms as Michael James, the man that attacked Martin's Café two weeks ago. Extreme rage, strength, and a black veins around the eyes. I urge you to stay away from these people, and if you see them call GCPD and leave immediately. Stay in your homes, and stay safe. And Nightwing... if you're listening... we need you. Help us."

The door creaked open and in walked Stephanie Brown. Her arms were crossed over her body and her purple sleeves were wet from tears. She looked at Jason, who turned off the TV.

"Sorry," Stephanie said, "I just wanted to come in here. Relive the past."

Jason nodded, patting the spot next to him. Stephanie slowly paced over and sat next to him, "what are we gonna do, Jason?"

"I don't know. I truly don't know. We can't let Gotham go, but I can't let my brother go again."

"Do you think he wants us to save him?"

Jason looked over at her, "what do you mean?"

"I mean, when we left he was eleven years old. I've never known him to forgive, let alone forget."

"I think he understands now, there was nothing left for us here. He's made peace. Learned to be his own man."

"But he's still a kid. He's seventeen. Oh god, has it really been seven years since it all started?"

Jason looked at the coffee table.

"Do you remember that look in his eye," Steph asked, "when we told him? He just learned I was still alive, just gotten used to having us around again, and then we up and left."