Thomas, the legacy of the Wayne name. Heir to the throne of power, to Wayne Enterprises, and to Batman.
One misstep. One bad day. The spiral of events leading to the downfall of the Batfamily and so much more. Only one man left standing, only one pr...
Thomas Wayne stood on the top layer of Grand Avenue Station, sitting on the railing with his feet over the edge.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
He looked out at the city. It was a bright night, the moonlight lighting the city up. In the distance buildings were on fire, and he could recognize the smoke cloud rising from behind the skyscrapers: Wayne Enterprises R&D Department.
show them
In the moment of silence, waiting for the clock behind him to strike midnight, the stress was getting to him. His head ached as if his brain wanted to explode. His knees felt like they would collapse the second he stood from the railing.
His muscles all screamed and begged for rest, and a sharp and constant pain in his right leg told him that even with the virus accelerating his healing, it still wasn't healed completely.
And he felt that under his suit his new scars were agitated by the friction. His hands cramped and ache from constant movements, and his elbows screamed as well.
Not only that but he was starving and exhausted. It felt like if he were to stay still any longer he would fall apart.
Subconsciously, his feet began to rapidly move up and down, side to side at the ankle, as if the thought of sitting still made him uncomfortable.
And the silence only made the voices in his head louder.
Show them who you are.
Twelve strikes of a bell rang behind him. Twelve O'Clock, and the Arkham Knight didn't show up.
In the distance, a rumbling filled the air. It echoed all around, and it was impossible to find the original source. Until the crash was heard.
A volley of loud banging filled the air, like a volley of canons opening fire. No, not canons. Tanks. Firing on GCPD.
"Oh my... fuck..."
Nightwing swallowed before he jumped forward, turning his wrists at the same time. He felt something click into place on his arms, and the wind caught him.
A thick material spread from his arms to his torso, as if it were wings on a glider suit. They allowed Nightwing to glide on air. It was faster than weaving through the buildings on the street level, and judging by the noise, time was of the essence.
He shot out his hand, holding a grappling gun, launching for more speed.
When GCPD was close enough to see what was going on, Nightwing noted the legion of tanks firing at the building. Nightwing hit a button on his guantlet as he approached, stopping to look at the forces on a crossbeam. The good news: the tanks were unmanned. The bad news: there were fifty of them.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
