Young Justice: Outsiders

The Awful Truth

In the halls of the Watchtower, Nightwing noticed Batman looking out into space...as if in a dream.

"Jason has returned, Tim is missing and Barbara's been wounded."

The world of Richard Grayson as it currently was came crashing down inside his head. His thoughts of seeing Barbara, broken, bleeding and bruised were strong enough to bring him back to the moment his parents died. The idea of Tim being kidnapped by the Joker was hauntingly similar to Jason's death years ago. It seemed as though he was torn between two worlds: The team and his own family. What could he do? How would've things been different if he just stayed in Gotham City?

At last, he found his voice.

"How is it possible for Jason to return? Are you even sure it was him?"

"He knows the location of the Batcave, he has the same green eyes and he is the Red Hood."

"How did he return."

"According to Jason himself, he was resurrected using the Lazarus Pit."

"What would Ra's al Ghul want with him?"

"Probably nothing but unneeded sympathy."

Nightwing nodded an understatement,

"And Jason won't be moving against the criminals of Gotham as a whole," Batman added. "At least, not yet; he'll need the illusion of heroism to keep the individual cities in line. He won't risk a general uprising."

Martian Manhunter appeared in the room.

"Shall we escort you back to Gotham, Batman and young Nightwing?"

"Yes," replied Nightwing. "We both have many things to find out about."

When they arrived at Arkham, the police escorted the two bats over to the scene of massacre where everything lay in confusion. They stepped over costumed bodies to kneel beside bullet-riddled corpses of criminals. Tears flowed freely down tracks that hadn't had a chance to dry since he'd first entered the room. "Not even the joke villains survived. It looks like they made a stand here."

Nightwing's face creased with sadness. "Or they were trying to flee."

Batman turned to another body, an older one, a criminal fully mature and beyond. Grief punched a gasp from his chest. "Nightwing-it's Doctor Death . . ."

Nightwing looked over and nodded bleakly. "Doctor Death would not abandon his comrades."

Batman sank to his knees beside the fallen doctor. "He was my first criminal . . ."

"And mine was just a regular gangster," Nightwing said. "His death will not cripple us."

"I know. But . . . it's one thing to know an enemy is dead, Dick. It's another to find a survivor . . ."

"Yes." Nightwing moved closer. With his escrima stick, he pointed at a cell glowing in a faint blue color. "Yes, it is. See this? We have at least one survivor."

An icy void opened in Batman's heart. It swallowed his pain and his grief, leaving behind a precariously empty calm.

It was Mr. Freeze, his helmet having been cracked open, and on the verge of dying from exposure to the heat.

The two rushed over to him.

"Do you know who had done this?" Batman asked.

Freeze wheezed as he tried to breathe.

"A red helmet, carrying guns, killed all of my allies..."

He reached his right hand out to the warmth that he had been craving for since his transformation, his eye sight bringing him back to a familiar face.