Nightwing: Legacy

Chapter 6.2

If you were to look at Nightwing, you would see nothing but the face of vengeance. If you were to look closer. you'd see the man trying to help clean up Gotham.

Nobody sees the scared kid behind the mask. Nightwing is an eighteen year old boy, struggling with monsters made of memories.

Nobody sees the real me. Not even me. All they see is what I want them to see. A symbol of fear, the fear that makes criminals think twice before comitting crimes. A fear worse than Scarecrow's toxin.

But I'm the one scared. I'm not scared to die. I've stared death in the face more times than I can count, and I've never blinked.

I fear living. I fear the inevitable conversation me and Jason will have to resolve our issues. I fear the moments with my family, where I have to put on a smile and pretend that everything's alright.

I fear being alone forever, never able to love someone and have them love me. But I also fear letting someone close enough to me for that. I crave intimacy, but I'm scared to open up.

Christmas is in a few weeks. There wasn't much I was thankful for, and I'm certainly not feeling holly or jolly.

And now, my childhood really has died. I buried it with my father. Soon I'll follow. Once this is done I'll go see those I had to leave behind.

Mom, Dad, Dick, Alfred, Lonnie. I'll join them soon. And I'll get to meet Grandma and Grandpa. Things will be better there.

I know I'll be hurting Jason, and Stephanie, and Tim, and Cass, and Barb. Cass especially. And Jason will never forgive himself. And Barb and I have been through so much together.

But they'll just have to do what I do. Because the liqour is easier to swallow then the truth: No one is innocent. Everyone is guilty of something. Everyone has a part to play. Even me.

***

Ibn Al Xu'ffasch stood in front of Ra's Al Ghul in an empty white room. His hood and mask were on, and Ra's studied his face.

"Are we ready, grandson?"

"The attack on the army was succesful," he stared straight ahead. "Their forces are at a third of their power. The bombs we stole are in place."

Ra's looked at Ibn, "and what of Nightwing?"

Ra's touched the cuts on Ibn's face. Ibn raised his arm, a bundle of black material in his hand.

Ibn grabbed the mask, showing the back of it to Ra's. The mask was tattered, the left lens cracked.

"He shouldn't be a problem."

Ra's smiled, looking at his Grandson, "perhaps my prophecy was slightly incorrect. Either way, death to the son of Gotham."

***

Jason stood at Panessa Studios, talking with Barb.

"This doesn't feel right to me," Jason chewed his lip. "It's too quiet."

"It takes a lot to invade a city. They're probably preparing their forces. We should do the same," Barb said.

"So where's Thomas? We need orders."

"I don't know, Jason. He's probably fine, though."

A device rang, and Barbara answered it, holding the device to her ear. Her eyes widened as the caller spoke.

"What?" Jason asked.

Barbara swallowed, putting the phone down, "Talia just called. We have to hold Grand Avenue."