I couldn't understand why people laughed at me when I told them of my ambitions. Even my father, who'd always been supportive of me before, patted me patronisingly on the head when I told him. "Yes, yes, and your brother wants to be a ballerina," he chuckled.
I didn't understand that. Ricky certainly did not want to be a ballerina. He wanted to be a masked vigilante. I knew because I'd overheard him talking to his friends the other day, but I didn't say that. There were certain things that you just didn't do, and correcting my father was one of them - I'd learnt that the hard way.
Ricky didn't approve of my ambitions either. I told him that he was the one being unrealistic for wanting to be a masked vigilante which wasn't even a real job; he just
He approached the cabin slowly so he wouldn't break any twigs or startle any animals. Everything depended on the element of surprise tonight.
The door was old and broke easily under a swift kick on the sheriff's end. At last he was face to face with the son of a bitch who had murdered his niece.
"What in the hell are you doing? This is a private residence!"
Walgrove stepped in over the remains of the door and kicked off his boots. "Your running's done, Cade. It's time to settle up for your crime."
"What crime? What are you talking about?"
He tossed his hat aside and began to unbutton his shirt. "The murd
Pete sits on the edge of the recliner next to them, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his mouth hanging slightly open as he watches.
I perch on the stool behind all of them, watching each of their reactions as much as I watch the news. When I shift on the stool, my arm brushes my side, and I feel the familiar line of incorrect skin that stretches from my chest to my thigh. I've had the scar for years, but somehow its presence still catches me off guard.
Eight years ago I worked for a man who paid me a lot of money to take care of criminal threats. If the government knew, they turned a blind eye, and I hungered after justice like a ravenous beast. I took responsibility for the people the police couldn't touch for one reason or another.
My first job involved a political man, the kind that would cause real proble
As she struggled to warm her frozen hands, she stopped shivering. Vaguely, she knew that was a bad thing, but it was so nice to lie down Her eyes slowly drifted shut, and sleep took her.
"Kieran! I'm telling you, that place is abandoned! We won't find this mythical creature called a human there!" Justin exclaimed grumpily.
Kieran ignored his brother, and opened the door. One the floor lay a soaked and frozen woman. "Justin! I found one!" he called excitedly. "I think it's female!"
Justin pushed past his brother, into the rickety shack. "Quick! We need to warm her up or she'll die! Jezrael will be so happy if we bring her a live human!"
"Newsflash, Commissioner! You never have."
The policeman whipped around in shock but then grumbled at the sight of blue against black, "I don't know who taught you that-but I don't like 'em."
A smirk decorated the vigilante's face as he strolled forward and threw off the light that beamed his signal onto the clouds that blanketed the city on a normal basis.
"So, what do you got?"
The elder man took a drag from his pipe before clenching it between his teeth and burying his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, "It's the same-a gear."
Nightwing's eyebrows rose behind his mask, "Again?"
The Commissioner pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket and held it out to his friend. Taking it slowly (you never knew when something could be booby-trapped) the younger gave it a slow gaze-over. It was a small gear, about as big as the top of a p
"Master Richard-what do you think you are doing?"
Her voice was loud, yet deep-as always. It had been a constant source of comfort at a younger age for him but at times like these now
"Turn on the news Harriet-you'll see where I was tonight."
"There had better be a good reason!"
Yep. All the news channels were already covering it. It was only about two minutes later that his Maid called back and with an uncharacteristically soft voice and transcribed her concerns.
"The boy's alright?"
"What's your ETA?"
"20 minutes, I'm going the long way."
Just to get some time to think.
"Will you need anything upon your return Master Richard?"
There was one thing he could
"Leave my checkbook out on my desk and a marked layout of the Gotham City Cemetery."
"For the Waynes?"
Dick gulped, suddenly uncomfortable with talking, "It
Dick's head jerked up at the sound resonating from the intercom on his desk and frowned. He placed the family photo down, reached towards the small box and flipped the furthest switch.
"Yes? Is something wrong Harriet?"
"Oh Master Richard-I just keep thinking about that boy and…you. I mean, it was only a few hours ago and yesterday was also…"
The maid trailed off, not knowing what more she could say. Dick smiled at the worry he could hear in his aunt's voice. Kind of unusual, Harriet Cooper was his maid/aunt and here he was her master/nephew. Their relationship would forever be quite an awkward one-but it had worked for 13 years since the death of his parents…
So, if it ain't broke, don't fix it!
"It's OK Aunt Harriet. I'll meet you in the kitchen. We can make snicker-doddles!"
"Oh you!" a la
He felt uncomfortable amongst the throng of bodies, like he was no longer welcome within the acceptable members of polite society, and it was only when Wiseman spoke to him that he regained his focus and clarity in relation to the task in hand.
“How do you want to do this?” Wiseman asked softly. “The gun will make too much mess – no-one wants to be cleaning that up.”
“I haven’t really thought about how,” Matt replied, “it’s been difficult enough to come to terms with actually doing it, let alone which method to employ.”
* The closest medic had pulled out a pulmotor as Nightwing laid the boy down onto the sidewalk and began his attempts to get the child breathing again. The vigilante stood back up and gazed over at the firemen and police officers exiting the house again, all of them coughing. Thankfully, the arrival of six other ambulances ensured that all of them were able to clear their airways of smoke due to various breathing machines.
The Commissioner's voice brought the vigilante's eyes away from the prone form of the unmoving boy.
"Any clue to how the fire started?"
"No," he said with a sigh.
THAT was a problem. He had seen no sparked or burned wires, no candles/melted piles of wax