Dick Grayson

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“

My name's Nightwing! I may not be the gent you were expecting, but let me assure you... like him, I'm the stuff of nightmares. So don't get stupid! If you play it cool, you may walk away from here wil all your teeth.

— Dick Grayson

”

Richard "Dick" John Grayson, better known as Nightwing, is a former acrobat, vigilante, the adopted son and sidekick of Bruce Wayne (also known as Batman), and the first to carry the mantle of Robin.

After the tragic murder of his parents by mob boss Tony Zucco, Dick was adopted by Bruce and trained to be his sidekick. As Robin, Dick worked closely with Bruce though would occasionally go off on his own missions and established the Teen Titans, a group of teenage superheroes. When he became an adult, Dick parted ways with Bruce and shed the Robin persona, instead adopting the guise of Nightwing to further assert his independence.

As Nightwing, Dick established himself in Blüdhaven, Gotham's economically troubled neighbouring city. Despite working independently, Dick none the less remained close to Batman and cooperated with his former mentor on numerous occasions, even taking over as Batman whenever Bruce was out of commision.

Battle vs. Ken the Eagle (by MrPacheco101)[]

Gotham Bay Harbor, Nighttime

In Gotham Bay 6 members of the terrorist organization Galactor are unloading cargos of weapon supplies off the ship and onto the harbor. “The cargos of shipments are almost imported boss.” One of them said to their leader. “Good, soon all the slums of this dreadful city will be buying our weaponry and spreading chaos into the city.” The leader said with a chuckle, soon the last of the shipments have finally been transported onto the harbor. “I don’t think so.” A voice called out into the night. “ What? Who said that !?” The leader said, the leader then turns around and sees The New Batman Dick Grayson standing atop of the railings of the ship. “Your weapons aren’t going to be near my town.” Dick said in a dark husky voice, his cape flowing to the side by the wind. The leader then starts to laugh hysterically “Hahahahahaha, Is that what you think? Men you know what to do.” He said snapping his finger. Suddenly all the troops pull out their sub-machine guns and start to fire at The Dark Knight.

Dick Grayson then jumps off of the railings off the ship; Dick then pulls out two Batarangs and throws two of the Galactor soldiers, knocking the guns from their hands. Dick then lands in front of the disarmed soldiers, and punches one of them in the face knocking him unconscious. The second disarmed soldier tries to right cross Dick in the face, but the Dark Knight dodges it and slams his fist into the soldiers knocking the breath out of him; The third soldier then aims his gun at the Dark Knight and fires, Dick sees the barrage of bullets coming straight at him and dodges it. He then pulls out another boomerang and throws it at the armed soldier, hitting him square in the face. The fourth and fifth soldiers ran out of bullets, so both of them pull out their saber- like blades and lunge themselves at Dick; the fourth soldier then tries to stab Dick in the chest, but he dodges the attack and trips the solider onto the ground, Dick followed it up by smashing his foot into the soldiers face. The fifth soldier then tries to slash the Dark Knight while he was occupied with his fallen comrade, but the Dick blocks the attack with his Bat Gauntlet and followed it with an elbow into the soldier’s stomach knocking him unconscious. Dick then turns around to face the leader of the group. “ And now there’s one.” He said as he faced his opponent. The leader was shaking in his boots. “ I can’t believe it! This guy took out my men within minutes, this guy is a monster” He thought as the sweat dripped from his brow. “ No! I can’t lose the plan must go on!” The leader then pulls out a pistol from behind “DIE!!!!!!” the leader yells out as he unloads his clip into the Dark Knight, but the bullets bounce from the armor suit as Dick begins to walk up to the freaked out leader. “WHY WON’T YOU DIE!?” He said as he keeps pulling the trigger, but the gun soon runs out of bullets. Dick then smacks the gun away from the leaders hand and grabs him by the collar. “W-w-who are you?” the leader said shakily, Dick then pulls the leader closer to him. “Your worst nightmare.” He said in a dark tone. “Now tell me who are you working for? Is it the Black Hand? The Joker? Black Mask? Who?” the leader opened his mouth, but no words came out; his body was shaking profusely until he suddenly fainted. Dick sighed and put the unconscious leader down. “Why does this happen to me all the time?” he said shaking his head. Dick then hears a whizzing sound coming from afar; he turns his head to see where the sound was coming from, suddenly a sharp object flew right past the Dark Knight and hit a post. “ What the hell was that?” Dick said as he turns around to the direction of the flying object, and spots Gatchaman leader Ken The Eagle standing before him. “And you are?” Dick said to the masked hero. “That is none of your concern.” Ken replied back. “The question you should be answering is why are you here, and what is your affiliation with Galactor?” Ken questioned. Dick then scratches his head. “ Well I don’t know who or what Galactor is, but I don’t like it when they start to bring their weapons and activities into my streets.” He replied back to the Science Ninja. Ken can tell that Dick is telling the truth, but he still feels suspicious over the heroes’ activity. “Very well, but even so I must ask you to come with me to my organizations base for ‘further’ questioning.” Ken said. “Oh really, and what if I refuse?” Dick asked. “ There is no option sir, so I suggest you come with me otherwise we’re gonna have to do this hard way.” Ken said in a serious tone, while pulling a couple of Razor Boomerangs from his belt. A smirk appears on Dick’s face “Oh well that’s too bad then huh.”

Dick then pulls out a couple of Batarangs off his utility belt and throws them at Ken, but the Science Ninja counters the attack by throwing his Razor Boomerangs at the Batarangs knocking them both off midair. Dick then charges at Ken and tries to land a right hook into the ninja’s face, but Ken blocks the attack and kicks Dick in the right side; Dick counters the attack with an uppercut in the chin followed by a trip in the legs, but Ken back flips out of the way and throws a couple of Boomerangs at the Dark Knight. Dick dodges the attack and throws two Batarangs at the Science Ninja, knocking the Razor Boomerang off his right hand and striking him in the left shoulder. “Gah!” Ken said as he grabs his shoulder in pain. Ken then pulls out his Sonic Gun from behind and aims it at the Dark Knight. “This ends now!” he said as he pulled the trigger. Dick dodges the attack, which then hits the poll causing it to explode; Dick throws a boomerang at Ken, but the Science ninja shoots it out of the air. “ It’s no use, just surrender.” Ken said pointing the gun at Dick. Realizing that his Batarangs are useless in battle, Dick beings to think of a plan to get of the situation he is in. “Dammit Dick how are you gonna get out of this situation now!” he thought to himself, Dick then starts to look around his surroundings and spots a warehouse off the harbor. “There!” All of a sudden Dick sprints forward towards his destined area, leaving Ken in the dust. “ Hey!” Ken yells out in frustration; he then aims his gun at Dick and fires a couple of blasts, but Dick dodges them all with ease. Dick is a couple of steps away from the warehouse. “Almost there!” Dick said, he then jumps up in the air and crashes into the warehouse window.

Ken the Eagle breaks the front door of the warehouse open; he then looks around gripping tightly to his gun. “ Where did you go? Ken said as walks into the dark, bleak warehouse. Ken then hears a couple of footsteps from behind and turns around aiming his gun, but finds nothing in sight. “Feh, just my imagination.” Ken said as he put the gun down, suddenly a batarang coming from the side slices Ken’s cheek. Ken then aims the Sonic Gun towards the direction of the attack and fires, but hits nothing. “Show yourself goddamn you!” Ken said angrily. He then hears a bouncing noise coming from behind; Ken then turns around to see a couple of pelts in front of him. “What the hell?” Ken said, suddenly the pelts burst open and gust of smoke fill the warehouse. Ken then begins to cough as the smoke filled his lungs. “*cough* damnit*cough* not good*cough*.” Ken said as he tries to breath. Unbeknownst to him Dick Grayson is within the smoke carrying his Grapple Gun. Dick pulls the trigger and unleashes the grapple that attaches itself on to the Sonic Gun, Dick then pull on the grapple causing the sonic Gun to be pulled out of Ken’s hand. “S—t!” Ken said as the gun is pulled into the smoke. Ken then pulls out his G-Fencer and looks around for his opponent within the smoke. “Show yourself damn you!” Ken shouts. Smoke then begins to clear out, sweat pours from Ken’s face, and his grip tightens on his G-Fencer. All of a sudden Dick Grayson appears from behind and kicks Ken square in the face knocking him down on the ground; Ken slowly starts to get up. “Tsk, lucky move now its time to get really serious.” The science Ninja charges at the Dark Knight and takes a swipe at him with his G-Fencer, but Dick blocks the attack with his Bat Gauntlet and counters it with a punch in the stomach. Ken then slashes Dick in the chest causing Dick to wince in pain, he then tries to follow it with a stab in the chest, but Dick grabs Ken by the arm and throws him overhead on to the ground (causing him to drop his G-Fencer as he hit the ground.). Ken then slowly begins to get up as Dick suddenly appears in front of the fallen hero. “Give up?” He asked the fallen warrior. A smile appears in Ken’s face “No, not at all.” Ken said, he then pulls a shuriken out of his belt and throws in front of Dick’s feet. “What the?” All of a sudden the canister on the shuriken burst open and green gas begins to pour out. “*Cough*dammit*cough*poison*cough**cough* gas.” The Dark Knight coughed as the gas flows through his lungs. His fusion starts to get blurry, his breathing starts to get raspy, and his body starts to wobble until finally he falls on the ground unconscious. Ken then stares at his fallen opponent. “Works every time.” He said.

Ken then walks out of the warehouse with the unconscious Dick Grayson towed on his shoulder; he then places the fallen hero slowly onto the ground. “ Where’s Jun and Ryu ? They said they would be here 30 minutes ago.” Ken said to himself impatiently, he then looks at the unconscious hero lying on the ground. “Wouldn’t hurt to see who’s behind the mask.” Ken said, he slowly starts to reach for Dick’s mask. “ I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A voice called out, suddenly a sharp flies by and hits Ken’s hand, as it was about to touch Dick’s mask. “Gah! Who threw that?” Ken cries pulling his hand away from the mask; ken turns his head around and sees a small figure standing atop of the post, the figure jumps off of the post and walks up to Ken. The figure wore a red and black suit with boots , and a green mask covered his eyes. “ I suggest you hand that person over, or otherwise we’re gonna have some problems.” The figure said. Ken turned to face his new opponent. “*sigh*another masked hero, this is gonna be one long night.” The Science Ninja said as he pulls out his Razor Boomerang. The figure then pulls out his staff and gets into his battle stance.

“Unlike the guy you’ve just defeated, I won’t be showing you any mercy.”

Expert's Opinion[]

The reason why Ken won was because his Weapons were more balanced and had more lethality, unlike Dick’s non-lethal weapons.

To see original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.

Clusterfuck Royale (by Leolab)[]

Prologue: Setting the Stage[]

The loud whirring of a shipping crane winds down, placing the last crate of the night on the docks. The foreman in charge radios the crane operator, telling her to leave for the night. He sighs and stretches, giving a suspicious glance at the heavily armed and armored guards the Japanese freight liner had brought with it. This “Asougi Group” was a little paranoid, but at least there was nothing out of the ordinary with the cargo. Until the clang of something hitting metal resounded from inside one.

The foreman scurries away as the guards surround the offending crate, whose door buckled and bent outwards.

“Zappa, stand back!” a girl’s voice comes from inside, and the pounding stops. The guards stall, confused until the shriek of steel tearing apart announced that something had sheared the locking mechanism in half. Another slam throws the doors open, and the guards try to follow the blur of a girl in black clothes and a kitsune mask zips behind one of them, her red sword sprouting from his chest. Their commander’s eyes open wide as he feels the barrel of a gun under his chin.

A gas bomb causes the rest to scatter as Kuma pulls the trigger, firing a few shots at the retreating guards as the rest of Nayuta streams out of the container. Kirakira’s chainsaw whirrs as she throws more gas grenades, concealing Joker well enough for the child to kneecap an Asougi goon. A lariat from Zappa breaks the soldier’s neck as Torataro runs past, his staff twirling to bash in the skull of another guard. He separates it and points the ends towards his remaining foes, letting out a wave of fire that kept them at bay.

“BANG!” a childish voice yells from the top of the container, and a bullet rips through another guard. ALyCE does a twirl before aiming her rifle again, shooting twice and downing another pair of Asougi guards. The fighting intensifies as the gas fades, the guards finally recovering. A spray from a gun is handily deflected by Kikuchiyo, her red blade flashing as the frontline fighters slightly contract their perimeter. The fighting stops for a second as a maniacal cackle resounds from one of the two girls still within the shipping container.

“Oh, this is great! Feel my power, peons!” a girl yells, tapping on her phone. One of the Asougi guards yells, pointing at the massive crane as it starts to move on its own. They scatter in fear as its massive arm swipes around, knocking around shipping crates and people alike with reckless abandon.

“Antenna, that’s enough!” Kuma yells, “They’re on the run, and you’re starting to get close to us, too!”

“Ah, right, sorry,” she says, tapping on her phone again as the crane stops.

“Kuma, found a survivor,” Porno says, the young-looking girl dragging a man behind her, bound in belts.

“Can you get information out of him?”

“Suuuuuure.”

“Uh, is it safe?” Medico asks, poking her head out of the shipping container.

“Of course it is!” Zappa says, laughing wildly, “We just struck a blow to Asougi, while traveling to a new place! We can reduce their influence here, too!”

“Yes, but where are we?” Kikuchiyo asks, “We were trapped in there for far longer than it would take to get somewhere in Japan.”

“Uh… I have bad news,” Antenna says, looking at her phone; she then holds it up for the rest to see, showing a navigation app with the words “New York City” in large characters. Latin letters, rather than Kanji.

“Yooooo we in New York now!” Zappa yells, sounding excited.

“We’re in New fucking York?” Kuma asks, aghast.

“Yeah,” Porno says, walking away from the shuddering guard, “And I think I know where we can hide for a bit. There’s this one row of warehouses the Russians used to use. It’s abandoned now, since they’re gone.”

The group looks at each other and nods. Porno holds her arms out at Kuma, who obliges and picks her up as they jog to where she indicated the abandoned buildings were.

“There’s one we can use for us,” she whispers in his ear, while tracing his collarbone with her finger, “And another we can use to set up our talent for hustling. We should be able to get it set up close to our base at home.”

“Could you please tell me normally, Porno?” Kuma asks. The shudder that ran through his body was certainly not from the chill night air. “This makes it hard to run.”

“We can take care of that, too,” she says, giggling before falling silent. A few minutes later, the group reaches the buildings Porno had told them about, and they set about shaping it up slightly, to at least serve as a place to sleep for tonight.

Once that was done, Kuma turns a glare towards Zappa, who quivers at the stare of the shorter, skinnier man.

“So. Zappa. We’re in New York.”

“Yes.”

“Not Japan.”

“Yes.”

“And where is the Asougi Group? And the schools Kirakira, Kikuchiyo, and I attend?”

“I’m sorry!” Zappa yells, “I’ll start thinking of how to get us back!”

“No, I’ll do that,” Kuma says, cradling his head in his hands, “You consider how we can establish ourselves here, since we’ll need at least a bit of a base.”

“If we’re resuming operations, we should resume your training,” Porno says, sliding next to Kuma.

“Not tonight, please,” Medico says, sounding annoyed, “We’re all exhausted, anyway, so I doubt he’d be able to… you know… get it… up.”

“Yeah, and it’d be hard to sleep with all the jealous glares,” Torataro says, yawning, “Let’s just talk about things in the morning.”

The rest of the crew awkwardly agrees, and they turn in for the night.

Deep under New York, so far that whether it was night or day was irrelevant, a green-haired, very muscular man in a lab coat laughs. Around him lie various electronics and cables, and resting against the wall is an enormous heap of steel fashioned in the rough shape of a person, and another structure on the other side that appeared to be a drum barrel with legs. A girl in fairly revealing clothes and elf ears picks her way around the detritus, unsure of what was actually valuable and what wasn’t.

“HAHAHAHAHA, the great DOCTAH WEST will show this city!” he says, finishing a weld and picking up his guitar, “They will tremble before my might, as from the depths of my lab, I – ”

“Isn’t this a Black Lodge facility, robo?” the girl asks.

“Well, yes, Elsa, but they lent it to me, so it’s mine. And as Master Therion commanded, I shall display the prowess of the Black Lodge with it.”

“He just wanted you out of his hair, robo,” Elsa mutters as the cacophony of Doctor West’s out-of-tune guitar permeates the lab

“Nonsense! Master Therion trusted me to pull this off with no resources, no funding, and no underlings! I am armed with my four greatest weapons: Demonpain, a Destroyer Robot, my own unparalleled genius, and you, Elsa. With those, we will bring New York to its knees!”

“But why, robo? And why did you bring Demonpain, robo?”

“Because why not? And I made the Demonpain, I get to decide what to do with it.”

Doctor West continues his rambles, punctuated by the occasional chord on his guitar, as Elsa just hangs her head in exasperation. She notices a pair of humans walking towards the lab on her sensors, and makes her way up through the lab to meet them.

“NYPD,” one of the two says, flashing a badge, “We’ve received a noise complaint.”

“I’m sorry, robo. I will unplug the doctor’s guitar, robo.”

“Good. Just… make sure it’s done soon.”

Elsa closes the door, leaning her tonfa guns on them to make sure the police don’t open it. Knowing Doctor West’s ingenuity, and likely backup amps, she heads over to the circuit breaker and simply shuts everything in the lab down.

Early the next morning, sirens slice through the buzz as New Yorkers scatter away from a trio of DUP armored cars, which barrel down the streets. A few pedestrians give them dirty looks until they come screeching to a halt in front of a small café. They then scatter as the doors slam open, and men in yellow vests file out, fanning around three diners – an elderly woman, accompanied by a much younger man and woman. The young woman takes a glance up, looking at the rapidly closing police force.

“David. Take your mom and go,” she says. The man obeys, tapping the older woman on the shoulder as his hands flash in sign language. The old woman looks confused, giving the younger one a look, but accepts his helping hand. David turns, putting one hand behind his back to give a parting message.

Good luck, sis.

She drains her coffee and gets up as the pair passes the cordon, drawing attention to herself.

“So how’s that boot taste, ya fuckin’ pigs?” she asks, calmly.

One of the Pawns fires in response. The woman transforms into paint as the bullet passes through her, pushing her back and into the whitewashed front of the building. A cartoonish image of her appears on the walls, leaping over the hail of bullets sent her way. She kicks between the windows, making her way up the building as she peels out of the paint and back into the real world, gesturing downwards.

A wave of paint washes over a few DUP soldiers, knocking them off their feet. It dries quickly, sticking them to the ground, and a few flung paintballs blocks the goggles of the grunts before they could draw a bead on her. She gestures, quickly spewing and hardening paint into a small block, crouching behind it as the miniguns on top of the APCs unload in her general direction.

As the bullets chew on the roof around her, she looks around, seeing a small block where the door leading inside the building was. Spotting a piece of racist graffiti on the concrete, she holds her hand towards it. The paint separates itself from the wall, flying towards her.

She breathes deeply, her good deed for the day done, and concentrates, holding her index finger in the air and creating a small ball of dense paint on top of it. She then raises her other index finger, repeating the process, much faster now that she got the hang of it. The firing lulls for a bit, so she pops up out of cover and points a finger gun each at the two flanking APCs, launching the projectiles.

The armored vehicles rock on impact, turning over as their insides are gummed up with sticky paint. The Conduit flips the remaining APC the bird, another orb of compressed paint manifesting on top of her middle finger and streaking to take it out as well. She notices movement from the grunts on the ground and makes a small paint jet at her shoulder, pushing her out of the way of a glowing orb of concrete. She sends another blast of paint at her assailant as the thuds of landing Knights resound, announcing the DUP’s reinforcements, followed by a blast behind her.

The exploding concrete grenade throws her off the roof, knocking the wind out of her. She recovers in midair, slamming into the ground and releasing a fine mist of spray paint, blinding the DUP soldiers. She rolls into a handspring, landing roughly on top of a red car. She holds out her hand, the vibrant color lifting off, revealing the shiny metal underneath as it coalesces around her hand and arm, creating a massive fist.

She leaps off the car, slamming her new weapon into one of the DUP soldiers. As the mook is ragdolled, she manifests jets of paint from her hands and legs. She uses the pressurized liquid to slide around the street, dodging gunfire and throwing hooks when she comes in range of an enemy. She grins, exulting in her victory, as a mass of concrete slams into her chest. She’s knocked to the sidewalk, which reshapes itself to curl around her hands and feet.

“Bravo,” a dry, but sincere, voice comes, as a woman in a blue coat walks on the scene, “It’s rare for a Bioterrorist to fight so skillfully and so naturally. And to answer your earlier question, young lady, I can’t say I’m aware of what boots taste like.”

“Of course you don’t, Augustine,” the younger Conduit says, “Can’t taste anything with all that shit in your mouth.”

“Funny, I don’t recall telling lies.”

“Oh, no, I mean from all those asses you’re Frenching.”

A look of rage crosses Augustine’s face before she touches the paint conduit’s mouth. Concrete grows from the younger woman’s teeth, meshing her jaw together in a makeshift gag. The woman had a look of triumph in her eyes, but couldn’t disguise the wince well enough.

“Yes, I’m told that hurts,” Augustine says, giving an insincere smile, “You, men, load her into a helicopter and take her straight to Curdon Cay. Treat her with caution.”

The DUP soldiers nod, carting the restrained woman away. Augustine nods, and steps into a car, one of her subordinates holding the door for her. She sits down across form a secretary, who gives her a questioning look. She gestures, and the secretary speaks.

“Your next appointment is in City Hall, ma’am. You’re speaking with a councilman who opposes the current mayor.”

“Good,” Augustine says, taking a glance out the window, “Look at these people. They’re frightened, and the Bioterrorists in their midst feel confident. The current mayor tied our hands, allowing us on the condition that we ‘don’t cause civilian casualties.’ As if we can operate under restrictions. No, what the DUP needs is full, unfettered control of the city.”

The secretary simply nods, having heard this particular tack of Augustine’s several times already.

Across the city, a lone man leans back in his penthouse apartment. The apartment was the last thing he needed to pack up before heading back to Gotham. Or to Bludhaven, and just skip the process of getting annoyed with Bruce again before leaving. Dick Grayson pours himself a coffee, turning on the news as he does so.

“And last night a group of stowaways from Japan assaulted a dock worker, along with a group of guards hired by the Asougi Group. The police is asking for tips to their whereabouts, but despite their flashy costumes they are nowhere to be found.”

Nightwing’s eyebrow raises as the news shows a blurry, highly pixelated shot of the group of teenagers running through the shipyard. They certainly dressed like a supervillain crew. He then thinks back to the time Tim had shown him this thing called “anime,” and frowned. That might just be the style in Japan these days; he’d have to keep an eye on them to be certain.

“And in breaking news, the Department of Unified Protection apprehended another Bioterrorist this morning. ABC has received exclusive footage from the DUP,” the anchor says, and the screen quickly turns to a chaotic jumble of shaking and paint, with a timestamp on the corner. Dick sends a quick text to Oracle as the presentation concludes, “Brooke Augustine asks New Yorkers to assist in reporting Bioterrorists, who as you can see here are clearly a danger to those around them. Thank you for tuning in to Morning Newsstand, this is Lance Nettar signing off.”

A text back from Babs contains a video, and watching it shows the full story: the DUP had indisputably shot first. Dick sighs, holding his head in his hands, before sending Bruce a text. As expected, he got a phone call almost immediately.

“You want to stay in New York for a bit?”

“Yes. There’s some new villains in town; what kind of former Robin would I be if I didn’t try to give them a thrashing?”

“All right, son,” Bruce says, his voice thick with nostalgia, “But be careful. There’s some new elements in charge, so my reach can’t help you as much as it used to.”

“Have I ever let you down?”

“No, no you haven’t. Good luck.”

The call shut out as quickly as it began, though this was hardly unusual when talking with Batman. Dick stands and picks up his coffee, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looking outside. The city below wasn’t his, but it was still under his protection for a bit.

“This is an… interesting challenge,” Matt Murdock says, pacing in his office in front of a pair of higher-ranking toughs from his organization, “The new DA, the mayor, even the new Chief of Police… they’re all proving resistant. And we need them to not be if we’re going to put New York fully under our thumb.”

“Do you want us to… send a message?” one of them asks, to which Matt simply shakes his head.

“No, that’s not going to work with these types. We’d have to kill them, and corrupting them is more fun.”

With that said, Matt turns and looks at the door expectantly. The two underlings look as well, trusting that he heard someone coming. True to the prediction, another man entered, wearing loose black clothing.

“Murdock. One of our men recovered.”

“Excellent. So who’s this mystery man that’s been hounding us?”

“Luckily, ol’ Sam came here from Bludhaven. Recognized Nightwing, a costumed vigilante active in that city.”

“Nightwing? The flippy acrobatic dude?”

“Supposed to ‘move like a ninja,’” one of the underlings says, shuddering.

“Move like a ninja, huh?” Matt says, exchanging a glance with the new arrival.

“You can’t possibly…”

“I wonder how I’d look in spandex?”

“That might be blackmail material by itself. Threaten to do so more if they don’t comply.”

“Well, I think we might be able to kill a few birds with one stone. Nightwing might be our in with the DA.”

“We’ve still got surveillance on the DUP that that mad scientist.”

“Keep that up; I want to know what they’re doing. You’re all dismissed.”

The members of his organization file out, two giving him respectful nods and the third bowing. Matt moves towards the window of his office, peering down. He couldn’t see the city below – not quite – but it was within his grasp. All he had to do was reach a bit, and it would be his.

Chapter 1: A Little Night Music[]

“We need materiel,” Kuma says, clearing the hideout’s one table of the accumulated pizza boxes that came with a week living in a new city, laying a map of New York City out in its place. The other members of Nayuta move around it, with three notable exceptions. Kuma throws an annoyed glance at Zappa, Antenna, and Porno, who remain on the couch watching TV and eating popcorn.

“Is this more important than watching Patty & Milly?” Porno asks.

“If we don’t do this, I can’t maintain the talent. And without them, we don’t have the money to let you watch anything.”

The three move in a flash, Antenna tapping the cat eared headband she’s wearing while Zappa and Porno stare at the map, eyes tracing the streets between the colored outlines of the places they had already hit and their bases of operations.

“Hit them where it hurts, huh?” Medico mutters.

Antenna nods a couple times before taking out a small box of toys. She places four on the map, before stepping back.

“The waves are pointing me to four places,” she says, pointing at each toy in turn, “The naked Power figure is on a Mafiya brothel. Some crazy scientist-cum-cultist’s lab is under the fleshlight, and the Kendama is on a warehouse controlled by the DUP.”

“And the vibrator?”

“That’s on a high rise owned by some rich guy named Bruce. There’s a few spaces underneath that are a complete black box. Not sure if it’ll have what you need, but something interesting’s bound to be there.”

“Well, I know which one we’re gonna hit,” Zappa says, moving his hand over the map. Kuma groans inwardly, anticipating the billionaire, only to be surprised as Zappa clears away all but the Kendama.

“It’s a good choice,” Kuma says, and Zappa gives a massive grin.

“Why there?” Kirakira asks, “I figured you’d go for the mystery.”

“Well, I’ve got a fun idea,” Zappa says, grin widening, “Antenna, over here.”

Antenna moves over, watching something on his phone before cackling. The tension breaks as she moves, signaling the end of the meeting. Kikuchiyo stalks off to do some sword training, while the others stretch and put away the map. Their hunts only actually happen at night, so they have free time.

“Joker, Torataro,” Kuma says, “Let’s install those soundproofing things we got last night.”

“Sure,” Torataro says, “I could do without hearing Kirakira and Medico talk about ‘strategies’ for you.”

“Y-yeah. And I don’t want to hear Porno and Antenna discuss your… ah… performance,” Joker mutters.

“My room’s between them,” Kuma says, deadpan, as three of the girls turn beet red. The three boys walk out to get the materials as Porno smirks, meeting Antenna’s eyes. She, at least, had known how thin the walls were.

That night, a group of seven teenagers and one young boy crouch in an alleyway, one of the many blind spots in DUP security. They split up, four of them going to the front entrance and four moving towards the rear, unaware of the man watching them from the rooftops. One of the ones going around the rear taps on his phone, and a few gunshots ring out.

Dick Grayson moves on, content to let two of his foes duke it out as Zappa barrels into the front gate. The large man chokeslams a distracted DUP soldier through the ground. The soldier struggles to maintain consciousness, only for Joker to slam a metal bat into his faceplate. The young boy quails under the sudden attention from the DUP, and he hides behind Zappa.

The Pawns open fire, and Zappa shields Joker while Kikuchiyo runs in front of them both, deflecting most of the bullets with her sword. She charges in as Medico injects Zappa with something that closes the wounds, and Joker peeks out from behind him. He spots a bald man in an overcoat holding a hand towards Kikuchiyo, and grabs a baseball from his backpack, throwing it at the DUP Bishop.

The flaming projectile slams into the man’s head, killing him. Kikuchiyo swings her sword towards a Rook, the large man staggering in shock as he feels something biting into his bulky concrete armor. The girl immediately throws her sword in the air, drawing his attention away as she dashes towards him, catching the blade as it falls. She moves at dizzying speeds, slashing at him multiple times before he can react.

The Rook creates a concrete barrier around himself, and a few slashes do little to it. Zappa runs up to the back of it, finding a small opening. He reaches in side, ripping the soldier out of his fortification and throwing him into the air. Another gunshot rings out as ALyCE snipes the Rook in the head, and the four of them head to the large metal doors. Zappa flexes his muscles as the muffles sounds of fighting reach them.

The door opens on its own, revealing the chaotic scene inside. Porno throws a ball of bandages at a Knight, skillfully manipulating them so that they bind the soldier. She binds the man tighter, breaking his spine as Kuma throws a couple firecrackers at another Knight mid-jump. The soldier gets thrown off balance, crashing to the ground as Kuma double-taps at point blank.

As the pair swiftly binds and disorients other soldiers, lightning strikes in another part of the warehouse, despite being indoors. The fried DUP solder falls as Torataro lands, grabbing his staff and separating it into a pair of nunchucks. He twirls them, deftly braining a pair of Pawns who tried to flank him before donning a welding mask, turning his weapon into a flamethrower and roasting another few DUP guardsmen alive.

The sound of a motor fills another part of the warehouse as Kirakira spins and slashes with her chainsaw, messily ripping through a pair of mooks. She throws a gas grenade, sending another pair into coughing fits before ripping into them as well. She leans to the side as a katana flies past her, impaling a DUP member who tried to hit a silent alarm.

Torataro gapes at Kikuchiyo as the warehouse quiets, the battle over. Joker runs up and tugs on Kuma’s sleeve as Antenna and ALyCE enter the warehouse, no longer needing to watch over the building.

“I think I’ve found someone,” he says, and leads Kuma over to a woman in a holding pen.

“You… who?” she asks, looking dazed, “I was working my corner when…”

“You were a prostitute?” Kuma asks, looking at her appraisingly.

“Yes…”

“Well, I have a business proposition for you…”

Kuma talks to the woman, eventually coming to a work agreement. Joker picks the lock to the cage and frees her. Zappa calls out to the two of them, and they walk towards him. Kuma looks around, shocked that the once-stocked warehouse is now empty, save for a few of Antenna’s drones and a couple trucks, loaded with its prior contents.

“What…”

“Oh, my idea requires the warehouse to be empty,” Zappa says, “Totataro told me he could strip all these down, so let’s get going. This is going to make an impact!”

Kuma nods, looking around again and focusing on the drones.

“Those drones… they look like fla†††’s. What are you planning to play?”

“Oh, nothiiiiiing,” Zappa says, elaborately playing innocent.

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow, then?”

“That’s the spirit!” he says, clapping his second-in-command in the back, “Now let’s get back. The new Patty & Milly is on soon.”

“And we don’t want to get caught with this,” Kuma mutters, knowing it would fall on deaf ears.

The shrieks of an abused guitar wail through the New York skies, drowned out entirely by the crashing of the metal monstrosity from which they come. Doctor West rampages through the city, for whom the sudden appearance of a giant robot was a fairly unusual sight. The crashing of moving steel, roar of missiles, boom of guns, and cries of panic are in turn silenced as they travel through the city, barely registering above the noise of habitation as they reach a darkened alleyway.

There, a man in a dirty overcoat quails on the ground, hands risen to protect his face from the one in blue-and-black spandex standing above him. A pair of Escrima sticks shatters the bones keeping them up, turning the pleas for mercy into yells of pain. The falling hands brush against a device in the coat’s pocket, which transmits a beeping to the wounded man’s Bluetooth earbud.

Another hit cracks his jaw, leaving him unable to smile in relief as he knew help would be on the way. More blows turn that relief into concern, then worry that help wouldn’t arrive in time. As the man’s consciousness grows hazy, losing feeling in his body, the pain mercifully stops. The feeling of something hitting him fades, too, as he slips in and out of darkness. The flashing lights of an ambulance only barely register in his eyes as he sees his would-be saviors arriving.

“Damnit, damnit, damnit,” Matt curses, running over to one of his employees as the ambulance staff reaches first, checking for vitals. The man, John, had always been loyal; he’d at least wanted to ease the poor soul’s passing with opiates. But the panic made by Doctor West had choked the city’s emergency systems, leaving too little too late for John. And anyone else unlucky enough to get in a life-threatening situation tonight, but they weren’t his concern.

One of the paramedics looks at him, shaking her head. Mat slams his fist against the wall, pretending that his frustration at the idiot ruining his plans was towards the apparently senseless act of violence. His eyes widen, remembering his failsafe, and he taps the paramedic on the shoulder as they bring out the stretcher with the bodybag.

“Hey, can you take his coat off for me?”

“What?”

“His coat. I was called here by a panic button, and the ones I give out have recording devices. It’s John’s best chance for justice, even if it won’t bring him back.”

She nods, helping the others do so. As soon as it’s in his hands, he opens it up, laying it on the ground and pulling out a pair of scissors. He cuts open the lining over the jacket’s breast, fishing out the device within. He pops out the memory card and inserts it into a reader, which he then plugs into his phone. The paramedic walks over as he watches the video, before gasping.

“That’s Nightwing!”

“Yes. I practice law, and some of my clients aren’t exactly squeaky clean, so I’ve had run-ins. Looks like he’s done playing with me. So I’m done playing with him.”

“So why are we going to one of our warehouses?” Augustine asks her secretary as they ride in the back of her car.

“Lost all contact in the middle of last night.”

“In case you didn’t notice, there was a giant fucking robot in the city.”

“This happened just prior. It might be connected,” the secretary says. Augustine sighs, leaning back.

“And your other piece of bad news?”

“The Bioterrorist you caught at the diner the other day. She’s escaped,” the secretary says, looking at his phone, “And it seems the media are at the warehouse, too.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Augustine says, massaging her head as the car comes to a stop. She studiously ignores the cameras as she barks orders to the soldiers on the ground, who fan out and surround the warehouse. She gestures towards it, and one of the soldiers approaches, entering the combination on the keypad to open the door.

The DUP gives a collective gasp as the warehouse is revealed to be empty, followed by the chattering of the media behind them. Augustine, baring her teeth, strides inside. She stops before a barely-visible laser tripwire, which she casually steps over. And then stumbles, as the ground in front of it sinks a couple inches.

She leaps backwards, encasing herself in concrete as four drones fly down from the ceiling, facing her. They stand off for a few seconds, until sound comes out of them.

O du lieber Augustin, Augustin, Augustin,
O du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin.
Geld ist weg, Mäd'l ist weg,
Alles hin, Augustin.
O du lieber Augustin,
Alles ist hin.

Augustine launches a wave of concrete, destroying the drones as her face flushes in humiliation. She turns to her men and starts barking orders, oblivious to the media frenzy.

“Mr. Murdock, I’m seeing you personally due to professional courtesy. The recent troubles in the city are leaving me with little time.”

“Of course,” Matt says, “I’d imagine the District Attorney’s office is having a hard time, what with the vigilante, DUP, and this nutter with a giant robot.”

“That fucking Nightwing is the worst. Does he have any idea how many criminals are let free because his evidence is inadmissible?”

“Most departments would choose to fudge its origin, Mr. Arnolds.”

“No. I, the Mayor, and the new Chief of Police were elected and selected to weed out exactly that kind of corruption.”

“Well then, Tee – if you’ll allow me to call you that – I believe I may have the solution to that particular woe.”

“Do tell me this hypothetical solution, Mr. Murdock. That way I won't have to recuse myself, and can let our boys in blue send their fully independent conclusion my way.”

The lawyer waves over his assistant, who opens a briefcase and sets it on the table. Matt takes out the contents, placing it before the DA. Tee looks over the images, showing a man collapsed on the ground, as well as a man who appeared to be Nightwing with a raised stick.

“One of my employees, John Smythe, was murdered last night. We tried calling the police, but the rush of reports about the robot rampage prevented any of our attempts from getting through until just before our meeting today. John was a good man, though sadly without any next of kin. “

“And you want us to prosecute this with Nightwing as the main suspect?”

“I have video evidence that he was the one who attacked John. I’m not just asking you to prioritize this case, Tee. I’m asking you to let me be part of it. As the only one who can take up the mantle, I want to ensure he receives justice.”

“I can’t let you be part of our team of lawyers, you know. But you can certainly be a witness, one given extra time on the stand due to the nature of the evidence you produce.”

“That… is an acceptable compromise,” Matt says, noting that Tee was giving him a measuring stare. Now was not the time for negotiations.

“Very good. Report to the precinct and share your evidence with the police. They may be chafing at the new regulations, but they’re as upset by Nightwing’s tampering as I.”

“Thank you, Tee. Neither of us will regret this; I believe we have taken a step to brighten New York’s future.”

“I sure hope so,” Tee says, waving Matt out. As the Kingpin strolls out, he takes a stop at the complimentary coffee bar. The brown liquid was far more vile than he usually preferred, but it allowed him the time to watch the news, currently playing a small segment on the emptied DUP warehouse, now with some grainy CCTV footage of the supposed culprits. He makes eye contact with his assistant, mouthing a short phrase.

“Contact them.”

Ch. 2: Electric Bicycle[]

A Japanese teenager walks into a New York Starbucks, blending in to the crowd in his blue coat and pants. Kuma looks around, gaze passing over Kikuchiyo, who couldn’t help but stand out in her white school uniform, as well as the far more plainly dressed Medico, who drew different attention for a pair of different reasons. He then spots Torataro relaxing in the corner, trying and failing to chat up the late-twenties grad students who desperately needed the caffeine.

He heads to the counter, fumbling a little with the English needed to buy a cup of coffee, and finally spots the man he was here to meet. The red suit and sunglasses were loud enough that Kuma wondered how he had missed Matt Murdock in the first place, but that was a question for another time. The two give each other a nod, and once Kuma’s coffee is ready he walks over, sitting down across from the lawyer.

“Hello, Mr. Murderdock… apologies, Mr. Murdock,” Kuma says, blushing slightly as someone behind him snorts at the mistake.

“Please, just call me Matt,” the lawyer says in perfect Japanese.

“All right, Matt,” Kuma says, switching back to his native tongue, “You left us a note.”

“Yes, about a job offer. Want the details?”

“Please.”

“Surely you’ve heard of the giant robot rampages?” Matt asks, taking out a few photos, “This is the culprit, one Dr. West from the city of Arkham. I have reason to believe he’s trying to build something more powerful I’d like you to retrieve the plans for me. Would help in finding a way to counteract the menace.”

“And what’s in it for us?”

“Aside from the good karma?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re trying to return home, right? I know a few… back ways. More comfortable than that container you came in, but also less likely to be noticed by Asougi.” Matt smiles inwardly as he hears a slight spike in the heartrate of the man sitting across from him, as well as three other people in the café. They were all hooked.

“Give us the info you have, and I’ll give it to our leader. If he thinks this is a good idea…”

“Come on, Kuma. We both know that you’re the man with the plans. If you buy in, he’s going to, too.”

“I’ll take it to our leader,” Kuma says, heartrate spiking again; in anger this time, not interest.

“Very well,” Matt says, backing off for now and passing him a manilla envelope, “There’s a burner phone in here, along with the info. Use it to contact me once you’ve finished the heist. Now I believe it’s time for me to grab a brownie. The ones here are pretty good.”

Kuma takes the envelope as Matt stands, leaning on his cane as he hums and moves back to the line. The teenager catches a few bars of the Austrian folk song that Zappa had introduced them to as he gets up, turning around and leaving the store. A half-hour on the bus later, and he walks into the large warehouse that he and the rest of Nayuta use as a base.

“Our mysterious note guy any good?” Zappa asks as the other three trail in behind Kuma.

“The job is, at least,” Kuma says, spreading the contents of the envelope on the table.

“So a smash and grab… likely more traps than guards, but the one to watch out for is that girl?”

“Hmmm… should we Dohna Dohna her?” Porno asks, leaping on Kuma’s back.

“Well, she’s a robot, right?” Kuma asks, hesitant, “Will that even sell?”

“Probably,” Torataro pipes in, “Overheard some customers talking about how they’d like some ‘russy’ the other night.”

“Antenna, think you can reprogram her if I fail to talk her into it?”

“Yeesh, talk about cold. But there’s no program I can’t hack. Given time, anyway.”

“Tonight, then?”

“Tonight.”

In the evening that day, Dick Grayson crouches on a rooftop, peering over a DUP compound. He’d had to fight the police as often as the criminals on the streets lately. They’d shouted that he was being taken into custody, but with the crooks he’d caught for them out and about the next few days they likely couldn’t hold him, either.

The area scouted, he slips off the roof, hooking into his glider. If anyone was putting pressure on the cops, it was likely the DUP. He flies over the fencing, determined to figure out what crimes they were trying to get away with and present them to the police. He taps a button on the glider, letting go as it swoops up under its own power, returning to a rooftop in case he needed it.

Nightwing looks around, giving the art on the side of the base an appreciative glance. A life-sized woman, lean with a fierce stare. Her red hair was done up in a ponytail, and she was dressed in a practical set of sport pants and a matching top. If this is what Augustine had looked like, maybe he could have fixed her if they’d met a few years earlier. Whoever the artist was had included enough detail that, though cartoonish, she might just step out of the wall.

And she did just that a few seconds later, to his well-concealed surprise.

“I don’t think this is a very safe place,” he says.

“Nah. The pigs’ Conduit detection stuff is horseshit.”

“Come on, I know they may not be the best people, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, if you like the cops so much why don’t you just turn yourself in?”

“What for?”

“Ah…” the paint conduit mutters, clearly piecing together something in her head, “Well, you won’t find anything on that here, at least.”

“You know why I’m being chased?”

“Yep.”

“Can you tell me?”

“Depends. I could use some help here.”

“With what?”

“Busting open some of their cages. They grabbed my brother after I was broken out. Figured I could rescue him and pay the favor forward by freeing a bunch of other conduits. With you here…”

“Fine. It’s at least a good cause.”

The two shake hands, before turning at the sound of footsteps. As a DUP Pawn rounds the corner, a pair of paintballs streaks from the woman’s fingers, splattering on his goggles. Nightwing takes the opportunity to launch a taser dart from his belt, hitting his foe in the throat. The Conduit moves to the convulsing, unconscious Pawn, looking at him with contempt before summoning some paint to her hand.

Nightwing grabs her wrist as she draws it back, grabbing the spike of hardened paint from her palm. The two give each other hard stares, annoyed and slightly confused.

“If you want my help, no killing,” Dick says, breaking the silence first.

“I suppose that’s fair,” she says, shooting a few globs of sticky paint to fasten the soldier to the ground. A high-pressure jet of watercolors slices through a deadbolt, opening the rear entrance for Dick to slip inside. The Conduit follows, covering the cameras in paint as they go. A cloud of spray paint blinds the sole patrol they encounter, and a flurry of paint bolts and escrima sticks ensure communication is cut completely. They then walk up to the only holding cell with someone in it, and another jet of watercolor cuts the lock open. The man inside pulls the conduit into a hug as he exits.

“Carrie, you’re okay.”

“Yes. I am.”

“But Mom, she… during the robot attack…”

“I know. I heard. Look, David, I still have a couple things to do here. Sounds like they haven’t found our father’s side apartment yet. It’s stocked; meet me there.” The man’s expression darkens for a second, before turning resolute. He nods, gives Nightwing a thank-you, and runs out the way they had entered.

“So these cages…”

“Two rooms, one ahead and to the left and the other up those stairs. I’ll take the latter. By the way, you’re wanted for murder.”

The Conduit jets away, using her paint to leap up the stairs before Dick could so much as blink. He shrugs, having partaken in his fair share of quick exits, and makes his way to the door she had pointed out previously. He passes through, seeing rows of pens; the one nearest him had only one person, so he simply ripped the door off its hinge, spotting a very dirty man inside.

“You… you’re Nightwing!” the man says, fumbling in his coat for a scrap of paper, “Can I have your autograph?”

“Sure,” Dick says, smiling warmly at the man. He was at least able to allay one person’s fears tonight. He signs the dotted line on the folded piece of paper given to him. The bum opens it, tearing off a yellow sheet from the back and giving the white copy back to Nightwing before vanishing.

He glances at the paper, noting the seal of the New York State court system on it and grimaces. They’d now served him notice of trial, and he’d signed it without even realizing. He sighs, folding the paper and shoving it into his spandex, only to jump at the strident sounds of an alarm. One thing had become abundantly clear: this was all a setup.

He runs, crashing through a window ahead of a concrete grenade, which sails across the compound and detonates, creating a massive hole in the wall. Screams resound as more shards of concrete fly over his head, crashing into a storefront and flattening a parked car. Dick stumbles as more concrete flies past him and bullets rake the ground, trying to lose his pursuers in the crowded street. The gunfire stops, fortunately, his human shields working.

He turns into a darkened alleyway as a concrete spire springs from within the compound, a DUP Knight launching up to try and find him in a birds-eye view. A couple turns take him to a safehouse, which he enters. Confident that he’d lost them, he strips off his suit, setting the paper aside. He changes into civilian clothing, and sits to read the court notice as he does so.

As the woman had told him, he was being accused of the murder of a “John Smythe.” Which made things simpler; it seemed Matt Murdock had finally made a move. This would be easy; he just needed to find evidence and give it to the police. And maybe have a talk with that ‘Carrie’ about the kinds of people she associates with.

Later that night, fresh panic washes through the city as another one of Doctor West’s rampages starts, the massive cylindrical robot moving through the city. Without Demonbane or Metatron to keep him in check, the man’s rampages were longer and more violent than those in Arkham. Which worked to Kuma’s advantage, as it kept the man away from his base for longer.

He signals the hunting team, which was far smaller than the DUP raiding party. Kikuchiyo and Zappa walk in front of him, while Antenna rollerskates in the rear, tapping on her phone. The door crackles and buzzes as she overrides the electronic locks, grin on her face. It swings open, and the group charges in. They immediately scatter, spotting several mechanized turrets and a girl with two tonfas.

“Please leave, robo,” Elsa says, firing her tonfas as the turrets rain suppressive fire. As her aim tracks towards Antenna, still tapping on her phone, Kikyuchiyo breaks cover. She runs low, breaking at sharp angles to keep things between her and the turrets. Her sword flashes around her, deflecting anything that still managed to keep her in sight, as Elsa turns to focus on her.

Kikuchiyo sheathes her blade as she slides around an overhead strike from the tonfa, which cracks the galvanized steel floor. She skids behind her foe and rises, unsheathing her blade in a perfect strike, hitting where the neck meets the shoulder. The clang of steel hitting steel stuns her for a moment, before she uses her arms to lift herself up, using Elsa’s neck as a pivot.

The robot girl spins, her tonfas sliding under the airborne Kikuchiyo. The human girl lands in front of the robot, sword held overhead. Elsa catches the overhead chop with crossed tonfas, locking both weapons in place. The two flex, straining at each other with their weapons until a deep yell draws Elsa’s attention upwards.

She increases her power output briefly, shoving Kikuchiyo’s blade away before jumping back. The samurai girl takes a half-step back as the barrel of one of the turrets slams down where her foe had just been, Zappa falling down after it. He ducks as she shifts her grip and swings, slashing diagonally at the robot who blocks it with a tonfa.

Elsa gasps as Zappa grabs her shins, lifting her up before powerbombing her. She rolls away as Kikuchiyo tries to stab her on the ground, firing the guns in her tonfas. The human girl parries the massive bullets, sending it careening into one of the mounted turrets, which explodes.

The debris forces Kuma to roll out of cover, sprinting to get behind the next set of crates before a shot from the other turrets catches him. He peers out at the battle raging in the center of the workshop, before a ping on his phone draws his attention. He sees Antenna’s avatar on their texting app, followed by a short message.

Let the robot fight our crazies. See if you can shoot the mushroom-looking thing hanging from the ceiling.

Kuma sighs, stowing his phone, and carefully, steadily aims at the “mushroom-looking thing” that was, indeed, hanging from the ceiling. He unloads his entire magazine at it, each shot missing its mark. He reloads, groaning, knowing it wasn’t going to work. Thinking he should have brough ALyCE along, he raises his gun and takes halfhearted aim, expecting to miss.

And, beyond all hope, each of the three shots hit. The device fizzles and sparks, emitting some sort of smokey liquid, as Antenna whoops, tapping more furiously on her phone.

“Zappa! Kikuchiyo! Break away!” she yells, laughing before dramatically tapping her phone one more time. The two leap back from a confused Elsa, who immediately buckles under the hail of highly accurate high-caliber bullets. The robot girl folds, collapsing in a twitching heap. Kuma looks at Antenna, who runs up and attaches a cable from her phone to the girl’s ear, before giving a thumbs up.

Even after all that, the robot was still alive. Kuma sighs, fishing out some tape and a few pieces of folded cloth that Matt had tucked into the envelopes, tossing them to Zappa. Kikuchiyo takes over the unconscious Elsa, binding her as Antenna and Kuma move deeper into the lab, sweeping anything that might seem useful into bags. They eventually reach a safe box, which Antenna hacks in a manner of seconds.

Throwing the Demonpain plans inside, along with the large stacks of cash and a few other assorted digital storage units, they return to the front of the lab, where Kikuchiyo has finished tying up their captive. She steps back, looking at her handiwork and nodding. She looks at Antenna and Kuma, raising her mask; her eyes shone, expecting approval.

They took a glance, only for Kuma to facepalm while Antenna acted comically scandalized; the robot girl was tied in near-textbook shibari, complete with a ball gag and blindfold. Seeing their reactions, Kikuchiyo blushes, realizing belatedly what she had done. Her knuckes whiten on her sword grip, embarrassment turning to fury.

“I’ll yell at Porno later, Kikuchiyo,” Kuma says, “So please calm down.”

She gives him a measuring stare, before slamming her fox mask back down and sighing. Zappa, having finished his task, comes over and laughs at the sight before awkwardly cutting off as he sees Kikuchiyo’s hand twitch towards her blade. He lifts up the limp robot, slinging it over his shoulder as the group exits the compound. Kuma looks back as he leaves, nodding as he sees the DUP flags pinned in fairly visible places.

Back in their base, Kuma rouses a still-bound Elsa, though with the gag and blindfold removed. Antenna leans against a wall behind him, putting on a show of not paying attention and playing with her phone, while Joker stands on his other side, gripping his bat nervously. The robot wakes, looking around at the steel walls and her bonds.

“Is this the part where you ravish me, robo? Bound as I am, I suppose I must suffer the indignity, robo,” she says, blushing faintly.

“We’re not going to be the ones ravishing you –”

“Ah, you plan to force me to service others, robo? What beasts have I gotten myself captured by, robo? Sob, sob, robo.”

“Just saying ‘sob’ doesn’t count as cryin – anyway, we’d rather not force you, either. We’d rather you do this by your own will.”

“I have promised myself to another, robo. I must remain pure for him, robo.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Kuma asks.

“No, robo. But he probably likes virgins, right, robo?”

“Well, that’s a bit of an assumption,” Kuma says, making eye contact with Antenna through a mirror. The girl looks back down at her phone, continuing to listen in. “I, and a lot of the guys I know, tend to like a girl with experience. He might be the same.”

“Kurou is not… wait… with those girls around him… and how they’re dressed… ROBOOO! Fine, robo! I’ll do it, robo! I’ll get experience here and snatch him away from those skanks, robo!”

“Good to have you on board, Elsa,” Kuma says, untying her and helping her up, “We can get you with customers tonight.”

Antenna and Joker sigh, the former in exasperation and the other in admiration, as Kuma leads Elsa towards a room. They had felt and seen, respectively, his silver tongue in action before, but it amazed them every time.

Ch. 3: Tea, Crumpets, and Explosions[]

Matt Murdock leans back in his chair, running his fingers over a braille menu. The soft music of the upscale restaurant bounced off its every corner, painting a picture of it through his ears. Through the massive windows next to him, the New York City skyline hummed. It was faint and muted, not to mention devoid of color, but breathtaking nonetheless.

His ears also picked up the sound of a mild commotion near the door, and he drew his attention back to the restaurant. He waves over a waitress, giving her a couple instructions. She returns, leading a casually-dressed Japanese teenager through the restaurant, drawing stares from its patrons.

“I did tell you this place has a dress code, Kuma.”

“These were the fanciest clothes I have,” the younger man says, sitting down.

“I could have spotted you a suit if you’d told me,” Matt says, and gives a small smirk as the eyes of the nearby staff widen, likely worried that they would suffer for having delayed such an important guest.

“I don’t run with these crowds,” Kuma says, slipping back into Japanese as the waiter hurries over with a Japanese-language menu, “And it won’t help me once I get back to Japan, either.”

“Speaking of…”

“Yes, I have the plans here.”

“Good, then we can relax and watch the… entertainment.”

“If you’re trying to seduce me, Mr. Murdock, I’m straight.”

“And into… petite women, at that. I’m aware. No, tonight’s entertainment is something you made possible, and something I think only you would appreciate from that group of yours.”

“I assume this has something to do with the DUP flags?”

Matt smiles, the expression growing sinister as a thunderous sound outside brightens the sky. As other patrons are blinded by the explosions, it simply throws the city into sharper relief for the lawyer; the buildings pop and thrum, well-defined and visible from farther away. As is the massive cylinder that rises from the ground on one side of the city, gradually making its way towards the concrete-reinforced skyscraper on the other side.

“Knowing what I know about West, he’s likely to attack anyone who’s wronged him. And pitting him against the DUP… we’re both trying to wrest control of the city. It’s a PR disaster for them no matter how it turns out.”

“How do you figure?” Kuma says, face growing impassive as the massive drum walks through the city, firing occasionally but not madly as it would previously.

“If the DUP can’t fight this off, they’re just as weak and powerless as the rest of us, and incapable of protecting anything but their own asses. If they can, then they clearly only care about their own safety; where were they during the previous few rampages? And…”

Mat cuts off, tilting his head as he listens to Doctor West’s voice, coming through the glass. A TV had been set up, so the others would likely be able to hear this in a few seconds.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh, DEEEEEEEEEE EUUUUUUUUU PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! WHERE IS SHE?” he wails, alongside the surprisingly decent melodies from his guitar, “What have you done with my daughter?!”

As the accusation flies through the TV, eliciting mutterings, Matt snaps his attention to Kuma, raising an eyebrow.

“If he’s talking about Elsa, she’s part of our hustling talent now. By her own free will.”

“Consider me impressed,” Matt says, chuckling, “This is even better than I’d hoped.”

“Dick, what was that?” the phone squawks, Barbara Gordon’s voice carrying concern.

“That’s the madman with a robot I’ve mentioned. Sounds like he straddled my building before walking off somewhere.”

“Shouldn’t you go and stop him, then?”

“Ordinarily yes, but if this turns into a four-way fight…”

“So we should focus on this so that it doesn’t.”

“Yes,” Dick says, walking towards the corkboard he’d set up, “Discovery went… poorly,” he says, pointing at a pair of pictures on the board, “Both DA Arnolds and the new Police Chief, Leonard Laboratory, had most of my evidence thrown out under the Exclusionary Rule.”

“That applies to defendants?”

“The judge agreed with them, according to the Wayne Enterprises attorney. They argued that my evidence gathering not only constituted a crime, but would violate the constitutional protections from unreasonable search and seizure.”

“Christ, they added charges, didn’t they?”

“Ungrateful bastards. I’ve sent you their video evidence; unfortunately I don’t have an alibi for the time.”

“I’ve watched it. This isn’t good, Dick; their imposter matches your physique almost exactly, and I’m pretty sure those are actually your escrima sticks.”

“Murdock probably picked them up after I had to throw them at his thugs. I think we need to be more… aggressive about this.”

“I’ll get this done as quickly as I can, Dick, and Bruce has also invited Arnolds and Laboratory to that gala of his. He’s going to try reasoning with them, too.”

“I’ll see if I can persuade Matt directly, then.”

“There seems to be this one crime syndicate he’s been talking to a lot lately. Name’s Nayuta, based out of the docks. Mostly prostitution, and not all are willing.”

“I’ve seen them before. Small outfit, so they tend to take everyone when they go ‘hunting,’ as they call it. I’ll try hitting them first, send a message there.”

“All right. Be careful, Dick. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“It’ll be fine, Babs. People have tried to frame me before, and we’ve beaten them.”

“In Gotham and Bludhaven, where the cops are on our side. Still, I see your point. Take care.”

Barbara hangs up, leaving the apartment completely silent. Nightwing puts on the news, which is now reporting on the latest robot attack, as he lays out a map of the docks.

Augustine steps out of the DUP building, which is surrounded in a hail of metal. Bullets fly from both her fortifications and the steel monstrosity storming towards it, and the air between is filled with shrapnel from the seemingly endless waves of missiles, each shot down by her soldiers before they could strike the building. They were at a stalemate, but one that would rapidly shift into losing territory if left too long.

A laser beam sliced off one of the concrete spikes that housed her soldiers, signaling that it had already been left too long. Augustine takes a deep breath, summoning all the concrete she could sense into her body. She exhales, rising into the air as large slabs take shape around her. The Destroyer Robot stops in its tracks, its pilot slightly confused by the sudden appearance of a large concrete construct, resembling a scorpion with four legs.

The robot’s machine guns bounce off of the concrete armor, and its missiles are intercepted by shards of the same. It starts to move forward again, only to be stopped in its tracks by the scorpion’s stinger. The robot struggles as the concrete reshapes itself into a lasso, holding it in place. After a few seconds of struggle, its front arms point at the line of concrete connecting the scorpion to the bindings, the massive drills on either side whirring to life.

They slam together, chipping into and through the concrete thread. The grey mass stops, falling down as Augustine releases her control. It halts just below the robot’s body, snaring a leg and forcing it to a knee. It retreats back to the golem, rejoining it and recreating the stinger before a drill slams through the street, right where it had been earlier. The drum can opens in the front, revealing machinery and its pilot.

Doctor West stands, strumming his guitar through bleeding hands. His eyes wide, tears streaming down his face, dart around as his mouth warps into a rictus of hate. Spittle flies as he sputters, and sprays as he starts to speak.

“You… you… YOU FUCKING ASSWIPE BASTARDS! No, no… I will not stop here. GENOCIDE! CROSFIIIIIRE!”

His ravings turn to gibberish as he continues to wail on his guitar, blood dripping from his fingers. The tap of it hitting the floor of his cockpit is gradually replaced by a mechanical grinding as the robot shifts. Augustine, still hovering in the core of the golem, is forced to look away. Whatever that something was that drove the unnatural whirring and reconstruction of machinery, it threatened to drive her as mad as its maker simply by observing it.

The air grows silent as the movement finishes, West’s guitar also halting. He rests the base on the floor of his cockpit, staring almost vacantly towards Augustine. She takes a second to admire the brutal, deadly beauty of rows and rows of high-caliber machine gun barrels, missile pods, and laser canons now pointed at her.

Past her, she realized, and at the DUP headquarters.

She springs into action as Doctor West flourishes, picking up his guitar again and strumming it. Her concrete construct rears, standing on its hind legs, and lurches forward, slamming into the robot as fire filled its frame. She knocks it backwards, through a building, as the percussive blasts of gunfire and missiles rock the golem.

She hovers above it, gathering concrete from all around her and reinforcing the compact shell of cement. The wall muffles the sound of explosions, which are still loud enough to rip away Augustine’s grunts of exertion as she concentrates harder on her powers than she ever has before. Eventually, the behemoth falls silent, allowing her to relax.

The cheers of adulation from her soldiers washes over her as she digs out the culprit, though she feels the pointed and glum stares of the common people on her. But she wasn’t worried about that; they ultimately didn’t matter. Some finessed news reports and they’d be on her side again.

The dissatisfaction spreads through an upscale teahouse, the wave of discontent breaking upon Matt Murdock and Kuma, who watched the entire fight play out through the massive windows that overlooked the skyline.

“See what we can do together, Kuma?” Matt says, seemingly enraptured, “What we can orchestrate, with a few pulled strings?”

“We?”

“We. The big picture was my plan, sure, but your kidnapping of Elsa turned this from a simple fight to something the DUP brought on New York. And with it, the capture of both the imbecile in the robot and the beginning of the end of the DUP’s stay in this city.”

“Taking Elsa wasn’t for you, Murdock.”

“No, but it worked in my favor. And just think of how your natural cunning could be applied; you’re wasted as a small-time pimp.”

“You are trying to seduce me.”

“Only into my employ. A few years training under me, and you could easily crush Asougi under your heel. Hell, you could take them over if you wished.”

“And the rest of Nayuta?”

“Well, if they can’t use the networks you’ve already set up I’m not sure they deserve to survive. What do you say, Kuma? Leave your pawns behind for a bit, find new ones, and help me to help you?”

Matt stretches out his hand, and Kuma takes a long look at it. He looks back up, meeting Matt’s gaze.

“Our deal was this information for passage back to Japan,” he says, placing the manilla envelope in the lawyer’s palm.

“And that will be honored,” Matt says, a tinge of disappointment flashing across his features, “Looks like we’re not as alike as I thought.”

“It was a good pitch. But two things turned me away.”

“Oh?”

“You asked me to abandon my friends, which is never in the cards. And then you showed me this,” Kuma says, gesturing at the skyline, “And that you revel with it. Very Asougi-like.”

“You wound me.”

“Letting a giant robot rampage through the city just to see what would happen? That’s classic Asougi.”

“Fine. We’ll deliver the tickets to you.”

“You’d better,” Kuma says, glaring for a second before his expression softens slightly, “And thanks for the food.”

Matt watches with a smile as the teenager makes his way through the crowd and out the door, before turning slightly and nodding to the ninja he had guarding them.

“Are we actually honoring this? For some low-level pimps?”

“Yes. But withdraw our forces from watching over the docks; they’re probably on Nightwing’s radar by now. Maybe Kuma will ask for help if his friends are in jail.”

Ch. 4: Two Pump Chump[]

Late the next night, Joker tiptoes around the warehouse complex that Nayuta had taken over. The others had gone out hunting, but Kuma had finally trusted him enough to let him manage the hustling business on his own. He wore his hunting outfit and brought his bat just in case, but the night had been going smoothly so far.

He cursed himself for tempting fate as a muscular man in tights drops down in front of him, glaring. Joker brandishes his bat, recognizing Nightwing from the news. The (alleged) murderer stares, clearly not expecting his presence as the customers – fewer than Kuma would have brought in, but still a decent showing – scatter in a panic.

The young boy glowers as hard as he can at the imposing adult. Clearly not hard enough, as amusement flickered across Nightwing’s face before he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

“Look, kid, I don’t know how they roped you in here, but I’m here to help,” he says, reaching forward only for a swing of the bat to stall him.

“Stay away, killer!” the boy shouts, in Japanese.

“Look, I didn’t do what the news said I did,” Dick says in the same language, “Plus, I’m here to help you, and everyone else trapped here.”

“I’m not trapped.”

“And where would you be if these criminals hadn’t forced you to work for them?”

“If they hadn’t found me, I’d still be being pulled in and out of cold sleep by Asougi for their weird experiments.”

“Oh.”

“And they’re not forcing me to help. They’re letting me help. I chose this.”

“Kid…”

“They trusted me with this.”

Dick’s mouth draws thin as he grabs his escrima sticks off his back. The child wasn’t going to listen to reason; whatever these criminals had saved him from was bad enough that it had earned them this much loyalty. Maybe Bruce should look into this “Asougi Group,” but that was a discussion for later.

Joker swings again, and Nightwing leans back to dodge. The child continues his fruitless assault, forcing Dick to weave to avoid getting kneecapped. His mind races, trying to figure out how to defuse the situation without getting a “reckless assault of a minor” charge added to his compounding list of alleged crimes.

As it happens, the solution wasn’t complex. As he danced just out of reach, the boy began to slow. Seemingly not made of the same stuff as the likes of ALyCE or Kikuchiyo, Joker’s desperate defense of the hustling facilities turned into a simple match of a child trying not to collapse of exhaustion as he flailed against an adult.

Joker loses his mighty struggle, collapsing in a heap, as Nightwing looks at him in pity. The acrobat turns and moves to the warehouses. He roughly busts open the deadbolted doors, as the women inside – some barely old enough to be called such – run out, thanking him. With two exceptions: one who said that she had a work agreement with the group that was being honored, and a girl with elf ears who insisted she “needed the experience” and nearly broke his fingers prying them off her arm.

He stops cold as he sees a man in ninja garb kneeling next to the collapsed boy, picking him up and setting him down on a chair.

“Here to protect your lackeys?” he asks, walking towards the obvious associate of Matthew Murdock, Esq., though no link would ever be proven.

“Hardly. I merely came to deliver payment for services rendered. And re-extend an offer of employment to their ‘Bear,’ though he seems to be absent.” He pulls out ten tickets, placing them in the mail slot before turning back to Nightwing, “Tickets back home to Japan.”

“Then I have bigger fish to fry.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Tell your boss that I don’t know what strings he pulled to expedite the trial this much, but it’s not going to help him.”

“He’s heard you. By the way, this is an additional destruction of property charge.”

“Get bent, asshole.”

The ninja looks suggestively at the brothel behind the vigilante, who snorts in disgust and leaps, grabbing into his powered glider. If this gang wasn’t important enough for Matt to fight over, he and Oracle might have seriously misread the man’s plans.

Matt Murdock strolls into the courthouse, nodding at the security guard as he flashes his ID. He strolls, confident but somber, towards the courtroom. The next three days might be the most important of his life. Whether or not Nightwing gets thrown in jail, whether or not he could get leverage on Mr. Arnolds or Chief Laboratory… all of it hinged on these next few days. And he was mostly powerless, until he could get called to the witness stand.

The courtroom falls deathly silent as he enters, his reputation preceding him. It erupts in murmurs and whispers as he sits in the public seating, behind the prosecution, rather than stepping past the barrier that leads into the courtroom itself. The judge, a man with black hair and a very punchable face, walks in through the back, setting down a cup of coffee on his table as the room rises, going through the usual formalities.

“Your Honor, I must object to beginning proceedings. Not only is the speed of this trial unusual, my client has not indicated to me that he has received a summons,” the lawyer for the defense, some Wayne Enterprises toady, says.

“Overruled. You should have made a written request for a stay, Mr. Lorenz, and we have a copy of his signed summons here,” the judge says, producing a yellow paper. The lawyer examines it, grimacing as Nightwing’s signature was indeed on the paper. Without any other samples of the man’s handwriting on hand, he couldn’t call this into question. With the formalities concluded, the court erupted into murmurs yet again as they noticed the lawyer for the prosecution: DA Arnolds himself.

“Good morning, Judge Westerling,” he says, “And to the ladies and gentlemen of the jury, and to all those in the court. Today, we bring before you a case starting with the death of John Smythe, who was found in an alleyway. Beaten to death with a pair of blunt objects. The defendant, the man known only as ‘Nightwing,’ styled himself a vigilante, meting out his version of ‘justice.’ The reality is that what happened to John was a meticulous and methodical murder.

“The evidence will demonstrate that John was incapable of defending himself. That long before the final blow was struck, he had his arms broken. His legs, crippled. His jaw shattered, unable to even scream for help. The defendant has declined to appear at any stage of this process, so we are unable to hear his exact thoughts. His lawyer, however, will try to cast aspersions on the character of John and on the character of his employer, Mr. Matthew Murdock, in an attempt to make this killing seem justified.

“What the evidence will show, however, is that Mr. Murdock feared for John’s safety, specifically from Nightwing. Enough to have a silent alarm, which recorded the catastrophic damage, and the cold precision with which it was carried out. What it will show is a pattern of targeted attacks against Mr. Murdock, his business, and his employees. The attacks range from beatings of the type John had suffered, burglaries, unlawful wiretapping, and even the attempt to frame Mr. Murdock for John’s murder. It will show that the death of John Smythe was not an outlier, but instead an extension of Nightwing’s criminal activities.”

Tee continues on, introducing the other lawyers working the case before elucidating the jury on their responsibilities, the definition of reasonable doubt, and a host of other legal terms. He further expounds on the evidence that would be presented, what he aims to prove with each piece, and why they matter. After about a half hour, he heads back to his seat, closing his opening statement.

“And what we’ve heard from the State,” the Wayne Enterprises lawyer says, starting his own opening arguments, “is nothing but conjecture. Theories aren’t enough to defeat the presumption of innocence, and I think you will also find little direct evidence of Nightwing’s culpability. Had the incompetent police force allowed his evidence, it would in fact – ”

“Mr. Lorenz,” the judge says, slamming his gavel, “You will remember the purpose of an opening argument. It is not to relitigate your client’s attempts to foist illegally obtained evidence on the court.”

“Apologies, Your Honor. I believe the witnesses and evidence will, in fact, run counter to the State’s guesses, demonstrating not only that Nightwing’s actions against Mr. Murdock were justified, but that the alleged killing is so far beyond his usual activities as to suggest a framing.”

The lawyer continues, hoping the damage sticks, trying his best to denigrate the prosecution and portray them as ineffective and corrupt. He eventually returns to his seat after a few minutes, not having much tack to go on.

Later that night, Matt Murdock tilts his head in his office, sounds growing sharper. He pokes his bookshelf with his cane before striding towards his desk, shuffling through papers absently while taking the occasional glance towards the window. Those who don’t know about his abilities would occasionally ask him why he had such a large window, despite being blind. Since these were typically his shadier clients, he’d tell them the window was for them. So that they could look out at the world and know they were above its vulgarities.

The thought crosses his mind that his visitor would confirm this twofold: one, that the baseness of the world needed to break the window to get in; two, that the visitor saw himself as much the same. He tenses as the crashing of shattering glass reaches his ears, braced so that falling back under the weight of Nightwing didn’t hurt him too bad.

“You know I’m innocent. Drop the charges.”

“I know exactly what you did. And so will the court,” Matt says, crossing his arms in front of his face, blocking an escrima stick.

“Drop the charges,” Nightwing growls, swinging again. Bats was right about one thing; a little fear was necessary.

“It’s not my… AAGH,” Matt starts, screaming as he feels a bone snap, “not my – OW – call!”

“What?” Nightwing asks, pulling away slightly. Matt takes the opportunity to slip in a headbutt, getting the vigilante off of him. He sprints to his desk, fumbling for the panic button before collapsing in pain. A pair of darts clatter to the floor, one shattering a bone in his hand and the other making his broken arm worse.

“This is a criminal case, you psychopathic fuck,” Matt growls, the pain leaking some of his actual thoughts into his acting, “You want this dropped? Talk to the cops.”

“This was done at your behest, right? They listen to you.”

“Ha. I bloody wish. I just provided the video upon their request.” Nightwing glares, taking a step forward as his grip strains on his escrima sticks. Matt, thinking quick, continues talking, “You know, the courts look really harshly on murdering a witness in an ongoing trial.”

“I wasn’t going to… damn,” Nightwing says, noticing a glint in the bookcase. He runs towards the window and jumps, the whine of an engine announcing his glider’s arrival to make a speedy getaway. Matt limps over to the desk, pressing the panic button, and sitting back as the alarms in the building ring stridently.

Tomorrow would be very interesting.

The door to a back room in City Hall opens, and a man in a sharp black suit walks in. He looks around, gaze wandering over the sparse furnishings in the room before spotting a man in a grey suit, which didn’t fit quite as well, pouring himself some tea.

“Hey Tee. You just take water, right?”

“Thank you, Leonard,” the DA says, accepting a cup of cold water from the police chief.

“To the incarceration of Nightwing,” the other man says, lifting his cup in a mock toast, “Some of my people responded to a call just now. Don’t be too surprised tomorrow.”

“I’m already aware. I have to be.”

“Right.”

The two men drink, falling silent. They already knew most of the small talk related to the other’s work, so they felt relief as the sound of thudding footsteps on the carpet outside cuts through the awkward silence. The door opens, letting in a lean, muscular man with short blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a dark blue suit.

“Mayor Pruntel, welcome,” Leonard says, “Mind telling us why we’re here?”

“The Department of Unified Pissmaggots,” the mayor says, loosening his tie and pouring himself some coffee, “Councilwoman Polanet and her cronies are blocking attempts to remove them, and the city’s hungry for their blood.”

“That’s troubling,” Leonard frowns, “My boys haven’t been able to find civilian casualties, but I’m pretty sure Augustine’s manipulating something.”

“Why?”

“Anyone who’s missing has been declared a Conduit, and anyone injured is reported as the fault of a Conduit, not the DUP.”

“And the evidence that proves otherwise?” Tee asks.

“Entirely absent, seized by the DUP under their standing warrant from the DOJ. No judge is going to sign off on our warrant to override that without serious evidence that something’s happening. Or a lawsuit against the DUP.”

“A lawsuit…” Tee mutters.

“Oh no, not Murdock. You know as well as I do that he’s shady as hell.”

“I do, yes, but I wasn’t going to mention him. One of the prosecutors knows a couple insurance lawyers, and it sounds like there’s some movement there.”

“How the bloody hell is an insurance lawyer going to help us?” the mayor asks, “They only care about their profits, not the damage they cover.”

“The companies are going bankrupt paying out damages from the DUP. It’s hard to tell what, but they’re likely to try and file a suit.”

“If the insurance companies are going bankrupt, it might be a good time to try the city-wide insurance plan I’ve been drafting.”

“Act fast, because I’m pretty sure the lawsuit’s nearly ready to be served.”

“Sure. Well, boys, that’s all for tonight.”

The three of them file out, trying not to wonder if the regular meetings were technically corruption or could be justified as three friends talking about work.

Ch. 5: Popcorn[]

“Man, every channel is showing this lame trial stuff or that lame politics stuff,” Zappa grumbles, flipping the remote towards Kuma, who is – for once – sitting on the couch and watching TV. Porno, sitting in his lap, catches it, turning the volume down a bit.

“Well, the tickets are for tomorrow,” Kuma says, “I cancelled everything else to save some extra cash. Especially with Nightwing fucking things up, we need all of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Joker says, sitting depressed at the coffee table.

“Don’t worry about it,” Torataro says, “Not like anyone expected Nightwing to show up. Or you to be able to do anything if he had. You’re not Kikuchiyo.”

As the named girl speaks up, annoyed, Kuma snatches the remote from Porno, putting the volume back up as the news program concludes a segment.

“And that’s the basics of the anti-bribery laws Mayor Pruntel signed this morning. As it is unprecedented in the entire nation, we will have to wait and see how strictly it will be enforced. Now we return to Day 2 of the highly publicized trial of the vigilante Nightwing, where the prosecution is set to call their next witness to the stand.”

“The prosecution calls upon Matthew Murdock,” Tee Arnolds says, and the courtroom buzzes in anticipation. Speculation flies around as the lawyer takes the oath, as he had not only previously avoided being on the other side of the witness stand, but he was injured as well. After giving his name and occupation, Tee steps up to a podium, leaning in to a microphone.

“Mr. Murdock, what was your relationship with the victim, John Smythe?”

“I was his employer.”

“For how long?”

“Nearly fifteen years.”

“And how did he enter your employ?”

“I heard him selling newspapers to support his orphanage. I talked to him, learned he was quite skilled at cold reading people. I hired him on as an intern, then when he turned eighteen made him a full employee.”

“And he worked in what capacity?”

“He advised me and other partners in my firm on the reactions of the judges and jury to testimony.”

“Were you aware that John considered you a ‘savior’ of his?”

“Objection, relevance,” the Wayne Enterprises attorney says.

“The victim’s connections to and relationship with the witness are relevant to establishing motive, Your Honor.”

“Overruled. But be quick, Mr. Arnolds.”

“He told me once,” Matt says, smiling sadly, “when he had mistaken ABV for Proof on a bottle of whiskey.”

“And would you consider him, in turn, an important member of your firm?”

“Invaluable.”

“This is a memo you had sent out last month,” Tee says, passing a sheet of paper with Murdock’s official letterhead around to the defendant’s team, as well as to the bailiff, “Do you recognize it?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Could you please read it to the court?”

“To all staff members, please be advised that the violence perpetrated against us by ‘Nightwing’ has been growing worse. Should you choose to do so, we can provide you with panic buttons, which may be sewn into clothing at your discretion. I implore all of you to stay safe. Best Regards, Matthew Murdock, Esq.”

“Permission to enter this memo as evidence, Your Honor?”

“Granted.”

“Thank you,” Tee says, handing over the paper, “Regarding this ‘panic button,’ Mr. Murdock, what were its functions?”

“It sent a signal to myself, to law enforcement, and to the nearest hospital that there was an assault in progress. It also recorded video, to present to the police as evidence.”

“And before we play this video, can you tell the court the frequency and severity of these attacks?”

“About once every two weeks. Those attacked have broken bones, concussion, and are frequently put in intensive care while unconscious.”

“I will play, for the court, the tape recovered from John Smythe’s panic button. Please verify that this is, in fact, the recording you presented to the police,” Tee says, plugging the memory card into a rectangular device. A few minutes later, a decent-quality video emerged, showing a stoic man in blue and black tights methodically swinging his nightsticks. Blood splattered sometimes as he hit, the muffled thuds and whimpers of pain of the victim causing some members of the jury to cringe.

“I can verify that this is, indeed, the recording recovered from John Smythe’s body,” Matt says after it finishes.

“Permission to enter the recording as evidence, Your Honor?”

“Granted.”

“And Mr. Murdock, you seem to be fairly heavily injured today. Could you elucidate the court on why?”

“Objection, irrelevant.”

“Oh, no. This is very relevant, and I’m glad Mr. Arnolds asked,” Matt says, with a smug grin, “I had a run-in with the defendant last night. He tried to threaten me into dropping the case. Classic vigilante, ignorant of how the law is actually practiced.”

“Overruled. Though I would ask you to wait for me to say that before testifying.”

“My apologies, Judge Westerling.”

“And do you have evidence of this?”

“I do,” Matt says, pulling out another memory card, “This is a video recording from the camera I use to record meetings. I had accidentally triggered it prior to the assault.”

Tee plays the video, which shows the third scene of the previous chapter.

“Permission to enter the recording as evidence, Your Honor?”

“Granted.”

“The prosecution rests.”

“All right. The defense may begin their cross-examination.”

The lead attorney for the defense gets up, making his way to the podium. His confident swagger causes a few mutters, as Matt’s testimony was fairly damning. The court listens, curious to see why the defense was so confident that the case would be cracked open.

“Murdock. Did you hire a ninja to dress up as Nightwing and have him beat John Smythe to death so that you could frame my client for his murder?”

“Objection!” Tee yells as the courtroom gasps, “Council’s question is belligerent, beyond the scope, assumes facts not in evidence, is inflammatory, and insane!”

“Sustained,” the judge says, banging his gavel, “Mr. Lorenz, you have been warned multiple times already for disruptive and unprofessional behavior. Continue in this vein and I will have you ejected. Defendant will not be without council; Mr. Leefold is present.”

“Understood, Your Honor,” the lawyer says, sneer barely concealed, “Murdock, how did you conclude that Nightwing was responsible for the attacks on your employees?”

“Well, one of the employees attacked came to New York from Bludhaven, and recog – ”

The TV shuts off, as Kuma gives Porno an accusatory look.

“He got it right. The rest of it’s going to be boring. Let’s play a board game.”

“Fine, fine,” Kuma says, lifting her off his lap and hunting for something for them to play.

Later that night, Matt strolls into the Wayne gala, letting none of the stress of testifying show on his face. The Wayne Enterprises security guards glare at him as he enters, but ultimately make no move to stop him. He had an invitation, after all.

He looks around the opulent hall, seeing three general knots. One was the obvious: Bruce Wayne and his ward, Dick Grayson, surrounded by the wealthy and powerful. The second was similarly clear to anyone who knew the current political situation: Mayor Leol Pruntel, DA Tee Arnolds, and Police Chief Leonard Laboratory, surrounded by a smattering of trade association heads, union leaders, and other representatives of the middle and working classes. Third, and equally predictable, was Brooke Augustine, standing alone.

Matt makes his way through the crowd, greeting the smattering of celebrities and otherwise connected who knew him. Leonard moves to follow him surreptitiously, but not really attempting to hide his tailing from an astute observer. Normal both for a man who had just been attacked, and was thus being watched for security, and for a man who was considered unsavory, and thus was being watched because of his unknown motives.

Which was true was, ultimately, irrelevant. Matt makes his way to the band, palming a $100 bill, and whispers to the conductor between songs. He steps back, giving Augustine a smug grin as the Austrian folk song he requested starts to play. The woman, recognizing the tune from a few days prior, turns red, storming through the party.

“Ms. Augustine,” Matt says, as the attention of everyone draws towards them, “On behalf of State Farm, Berkshire Hathaway, Progressive, and Liberty Mutual, amongst others, I am hereby serving you with a class action lawsuit, pursuant damages for massive casualty insurance claims due to the actions of the DUP.”

“Did I hear something about the DUP causing casualties?” Leonard asks, walking towards the pair, followed by Leol.

“Well, they’ve been deemed at fault by several dozen insurance companies for casualty insurance, most notably when they shot up a store while chasing Nightwing and during that whole scuffle with Doctor West. And since the damages involved are genuinely massive, they have decided to file a claim against the DUP.”

“Sounds like civilian casualties to me,” Leol says, “They’re civilians, and they’re claiming casualty insurance for act caused by the DUP. Which puts you in violation of the agreement signed by former Mayor Kastella. You are no longer welcome in New York; cease operations immediately, and remit all persons and materiel you are currently holding into police custody.”

“You ungrateful bloody shite,” Augustine growls, as concrete swirls around her feet. Leonard steps forward, and a metallic click cuts the flow of power, letting the small slabs fall to the ground. Augustine looks at her hands, dumbfounded that her own Conduit-suppressive cuffs would be used on her.

“Take her in for attempted assault on the Mayor,” he instructs a pair of officers, who grab the resisting woman, turning her around and marching her out of the gala. The band starts the folk tune again, and Matt sings as the head of the DUP is lead away.

“O du gehasst Augustine, Augustine, Augustine,
O du gehasst Augustine, alles ist hin.
Glaube ist weg, Schutz ist weg,
Alles hin, Augustine.
O du gehasst Augustine,
Alles ist hin.”

“A little excessive, Mr. Murdock. But is arresting her truly necessary?” Bruce Wayne asks, having come over to the commotion.

“That’s up to Mayor Pruntel. It’s his decision whether to press charges or not.”

“I’ll consider that later tonight,” Leol says, “but it’s much safer for her to be taken into custody at the moment.”

“Speaking of things that aren’t really necessary, I hear you’re prosecuting Nightwing?” Bruce asks.

“We are,” Tee says, taking over, “The evidence is quite damning.”

“I’m not sure that’s the wisest thing for you to be doing.”

“If that’s a threat, Mr. Wayne, it’s a poor one. It’s part of my job to prosecute accused murderers, whether or not that may draw their ire.”

“And you surely can’t expect his other crimes to be dropped, either,” Leol chimes in, “Warrantless wiretapping, assault, breaking and entering, destruction of property, burglary… each of these have a very strong case, as well. The man’s a menace.”

“Well, I’m sure there are others who agree with me. Like Wandrew Boss, or perhaps Larnold Q. Arias?”

“Mr. Wayne, are you seriously threatening to fund our political opponents if we decline to drop a criminal case?” Leol asks, as the crowd around them grows deathly silent.

“That seems a little aggressive, Mayor.”

“Are you, or are you not?”

“Since I have to spell it out for you, Mayor, I don’t agree with this policy and will donate to those whose policies on this matter align with mine.”

“And that’s fine to do on your own time and in private, Mr. Wayne. However, you have both openly and publicly declared your intent to support political challengers if we do not render a service to you. This qualifies as bribery under the law I signed this morning. Chief Laboratory, if you would?”

“With pleasure,” Leonard says with relish as he claps a pair of cuffs on the stunned Bruce Wayne.

The gala erupts in a furious tide of sound as the socialite is led away. Bruce is the only one who notices Matt Murdock slip a business card in his pocket, a tacit offer to represent him in court. If Nightwing’s primary lawyer was any indication, he would likely need it.

The air in the courtroom buzzes silently as Tee Arnolds gives a compassionate look to Nightwing’s only remaining lawyer, one Mr. Leefold, while the man’s primary lawyer is escorted out of the room. It couldn’t have been easy being paired with that buffoon, and only worse with the array of evidence against him.

“The State may continue their closing arguments. Hopefully without interruption,” Judge Westerling says, slamming down the gavel. A motion of which said judge was very fond.

“Very well, Your Honor,” Tee says, shuffling his notes to refocus himself, “I believe I have demonstrated already the contempt this so-called ‘Nightwing’ holds for not just the law, but for the people of New York in general. His violations of the law in the course of this case have been varied and many, but all trace back to one thing. One event, a mere five nights ago, wherein the defendant – who, might I add, has chosen to be entirely absent from these proceedings – beat a man to death.

“You’ve heard the testimony from Mr. Matt Murdock about how Nightwing targeted his firm, where the victim worked. You’ve also heard testimony on how he was an irreplaceable employee of said firm. You’ve seen the video, wherein the defendant makes careful, methodical strikes to – ”

Tee cuts off as a body is flung through the courtroom window, screams echoing as some of the shards of glass fly into the crowd. A man in black-and-blue tights sails through the hole, landing beside the man he had thrown through. Miraculously, the man was still alive and struggling, only to be hauled up.

“Objection, Your Honor,” Nightwing says, flashing a dazzling smile, “I believe this man has something to say.”

“I.. I did it,” the man mumbles. He was bruised and battered, with something clearly wrong with his eyes, “Matt Murdock hired me to kill John Smythe, and I did it…”

“Well, now that that’s clear,” Nightwing says, dropping the man on the floor and walking towards the DA, “I think we should be fine. A good dose of Pentothal…”

He cuts off as Tee Arnolds claps a pair of handcuffs on him.

“This makes one thing and one thing only clear, ladies and gentlemen of the court,” the DA says, raising his voice to be heard over the commotion. Its gravitas hushed the crowd, save for the occasional groans of those being treated by paramedics, “That this man – Mr…” he trails off, before tearing off the mask hiding the man’s identity, “Mr. Grayson, otherwise known as ‘Nightwing,’ has kidnapped a man, tortured him, and injected him with narcotics. Might I remind the court that sodium thiopental is not a truth serum, and instead an anesthetic which makes the victim suggestible.”

“Shit,” Nightwing mutters.

“All of which means is that lying before you on the ground, receiving emergency medical treatment, is a man with a physique similar to Nightwing’s, who has been tortured and drugged into confessing a crime. A crime of which Nightwing stands accused, and a man who Nightwing has brought to us. Ladies and gentlemen of the court, this is New York City. We are not Gotham, with its legions of corrupt cops and toadies in the pockets of some lunatic in a bat costume. Show the rest of the world how a civilized court deals with this manner of deranged psychopath.”

“Court will recess for ten minutes,” Judge Westerling says, “During which the broken glass will be cleaned, and the injured taken to the hospital.”

Tee walks out of the courtroom, where a gaggle of reporters awaits. Unsurprising, considering he had just unmasked one of the most notorious vigilantes in Gotham a few minutes prior. After repeatedly assuring the press that he had no comment other than hoping that the departed John Smythe would receive justice, he gets a call from Westerling to meet in the judge’s chambers.

He walks to the cozy office, where Mr. Leefield already sits, closing his eyes as he takes a sip from a porcelain cup of coffee. Westerling indicates another for Tee, which he gratefully takes. The man’s coffee was one of his few redeeming qualities, and he takes a couple sips while waiting for the others to speak.

“I have decided to amend my client’s plea to nolo contendre.”

“I think it’s in order,” Westerling says.

“It’s not. Section 220.60 of New York’s Criminal Process Law only stipulates a change to a guilty plea.”

“Oh?” Westerling says, flipping through a book while Leefield curses under his breath, “Why, you’re right, Mr. Arnolds. mea culpa. A plea of nolo contendre would not be accepted.”

“An Alford Plea, then. For all charges, which per Carney v Feldstein and People v Moret, is up to Judge Westerling to accept.”

“And I do.”

“Very well, then.”

Tee puts down his empty coffee cup, nodding to Westerling and Leefield before heading out. He takes the back entrance, hoping to avoid the media frenzy Mayor Pruntel was feeding by announcing the verdict. This takes him past Matt Murdock, who taps his cane a couple times.

“Rather anticlimatc,” the lawyer says.

“Yes. But justice was served.”

Epilogue: Exit Stage Larboard[]

Brooke Augustine slumps in her office the next morning, feeling defeated. The NYPD roots through her headquarters, filing and packing large amounts of material in boxes. Leol had declined to press assault charges, but the federal government had refused to intervene and prevent her expulsion from the city. A glance out the window at the swelling crowd outside did little to improve her mood.

The signs and chants of “Down with the dupes” showed her exactly how badly the city had turned on her. She sighs, massaging her temples as she notes a line of prisoners being led out of the compound. The crowd erupts in cheers as several run to their families, embracing their loved ones. She feels a momentary twinge of pleasure as one sits aside, alone and clearly unloved.

Doctor West rests on the pavement, supremely annoyed. He’d accomplished so little of what he had initially set out to do, and Elsa was also still missing. He looks up in surprise and irritation as a shadow is cast over him, before abruptly rising in front of the blonde man in front of him.

“M-m-m-master Therion!”

“Doctor West. I still have need of your services. We return to Arkham.”

“But Elsa…”

“Is already in the car,” the man says, his palm curling to point at the vehicle. The android was, indeed, sitting in the driver’s seat, even giving the pair a cheery wave. He nods, and the air warps as the magus teleports them into the car. As they make their way through the crowded New York streets, they pass an armored car, emblazoned with NYPD insignias. Two muscular men sit inside, bound in chains and across from each other.

“Sorry, Bruce. I fucked up,” Dick Grayson says, facing his mentor and father figure.

“Not too badly, son,” Bruce Wayne says, “You did bust up some of the criminal elements, and played a big part in forcing the DUP to withdraw. These chains won’t hold us for long.”

“I’m not so sure; trying to throw the weight of the Wayne Foundation around might just make the sentences worse.”

“I meant literally,” Bruce says, as the manacles fall off with a click. The guards inside panic, but a series of quick punches leave them knocked out, with several bones broken.

“You sly old coot, where’d you hide the lockpick?” Nightwing asks, contorting himself to grab it and loosen his own restraints.

“Best if I don’t tell you. Now get changed,” Bruce says, plopping a duffel bag next to Nightwing as he dons the Batsuit. The dynamic duo, now suited back up, opens the back of the truck, to the concerned yells of the driver. The citizens gawk, whether in awe or concern, as the two superheroes launch grappling guns, swinging up and around the New York skyline.

They pass a newly-replaced window as they soar past Matt Murdock’s firm, the Kingpin of Crime smiling as he sees the heroes flee his grasp. So long as they stayed in Gotham, there wouldn’t be much of a problem. He sighs as he takes a sip of wine; so close and yet so far. Despite the fortune he had made from selling the Demonpain plans, the upper levels of New York City’s law enforcement remained out of his grasp.

He had been missing one crucial piece in the complex web of manipulation: something to make them want to cooperate. They were certain that Nightwing’s conviction was due to the evidence and incompetence of the man’s lawyer, unaware that Mr. Lorenz had been paid handsomely to act a buffoon. His gaze turns to the airport as his thoughts turn to the Japanese criminal group he had aided. Perhaps if he had made use of their brothels to trap Tee or Leol, or maybe even consulted Kuma’s mind for planning… but that wasn’t in the cards.

The group of Japanese teenagers sits restlessly as the private jet rockets down the runway, pressing them against their seats. An announcement comes through the speaker, telling them they are free to roam the plane, which shatters the tension as the teens prove to be little more than children in a shiny new toy.

“Kuma, Kuma,” Porno says, poking him, “You want to join the Mile High club with me?”

“Sur… WHAT?”

“You look kind of upset, so I figured that might cheer you up.”

“No, I’m just somewhat ticked off at that Nightwing guy. We’d been doing pretty well, but then he comes and wrecks it. Not like we’re coming back broke, but…”

“Bigger is better, right?”

“In terms of our cash, yeah… could you stop rubbing against me?”

“I was joking earlier, but now I kind of want to. Come on, you’ve got training.”

“Wait, Porno, hey…” Kuma says, not quite resisting as the girl drags him towards the sleeping cabins at the back of the plane.

Expert's Opinion[]

5^th place, DUP: 0-4: The DUP proved too incompetent to fight properly against their opponents. Since their anti-Conduit training was ineffective against any actual Conduit threat, it was reasoned that they wouldn’t do well here, either. Further, their reckless nature means they wouldn’t try to avoid civilian casualties, failing their secondary loss condition on most of their conflicts.

4^th place, Doctor West: 1-3: While his success against the DUP was through equal parts of his abilities and their lack thereof, Doctor West’s general insanity proved to be a hinderance. He was far too erratic to put up much of a fight when he was on defense, and managed to miss fighting Nightwing entirely.

1^st place, Nightwing: 3-1: Nightwing’s proactive conflicts were both places where he excelled, as he is typically at his best while on the attack. Doctor West missing his apartment is more due to the latter’s failings, while his loss against Matt can be chalked down to a Gotham vigilante running afoul of (still artistically licensed) actual laws.

1^st place, Nayuta: 3-1: Nayuta, much like Dick, are quite skilled on the attack. This showed in similar places, as their greatest successes came from their proactive conflicts. Their success against Matt is thanks to the strength of their bonds, while their loss against Nightwing is due to having limited manpower to defend against someone else good at covert strikes.

1^st place, Matt Murdock: 3-1: Matt was on the offensive for all his conflicts, and was able to succeed in most of them thanks to his ability to manipulate and shift the field of battle to his favor by changing where it’s fought. His one failure is thanks to Nayuta’s bonds being stronger than his ability to seduce teenage boys.

To see original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.

Dick Grayson

Contents

Battle vs. Ken the Eagle (by MrPacheco101)[]

Expert's Opinion[]

Clusterfuck Royale (by Leolab)[]

Prologue: Setting the Stage[]

Chapter 1: A Little Night Music[]

Ch. 2: Electric Bicycle[]

Ch. 3: Tea, Crumpets, and Explosions[]

Ch. 4: Two Pump Chump[]

Ch. 5: Popcorn[]

Epilogue: Exit Stage Larboard[]

Expert's Opinion[]

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