Post by Derek Raines on Jul 29, 2010 12:18:46 GMT -5
With The Batman gone- Gotham has gone to Hell.
A tear in time, the aching swirl of a malfunctioning Boom-tube, a blossom of noise and light in the heart of Crime Alley. Dick Grayson, from another time and another reality, steps out on to the rain slick concrete. It is Gotham City before the end of the world. Somehow, he missed the mark.
Police scanners grumble the nights menu of violence but the Police aren't really listening. Others, however, are. A man all in black with a sniper rifle so precise in can see your sins. A boy with stolen tech who longs to be a hero. A wandering legend who has seen the worst that history has to offer...
On the banks of Gotham Bay is Smoke Town- the charred and abandoned remains of what was once where the wealthy and powerful made their homes. Rows of ruined mansions jut off of the shoreline like blackened, ruined teeth in an unhealthy mouth. Several dark vans pull up in front of an especially decaying molar- thugs drag two figures into the collapsing mansion. There is hell to pay and no one wants to pick up the tab.
Ophanim perches like a bird of prey on a neighboring rooftop- his sniper rifle picking up blossoms of heat even through the thick walls. A displaced Nightwing enters the mansion and staggers out of the shadows. The time travel took more out of him then he first imagined. A thug turns the corner. They are both surprised. The switchblade to Grayson's stomach begins the madness. Gunfire cries out in short, angry accusations as another figure enters from a different window. Moonlight catches the steel of his sword and he moves like a wraith through the burned hallways and door frames. The thugs have no chance. A figure appears seemingly out of nowhere- piercing the darkness with flares of white light. Bullets whisk through the walls with purpose and accuracy, disarming gunmen and kissing temples amidst the unfolding chaos. Grayson finds his feet. He is bleeding terribly.
The charred doors that once stood vigil at the mansion's ballroom burst open and two figures emerge. One has a white skull painted on his face and is armed for war. The second wears a Yakuza mask and is revving a bloody chainsaw. Whiteskull loses his rifle from one of Ophanim's shots and the villain bursts through a nearby window to hunt down the elusive sniper. Chainsaw is surrounded and contorts his body furiously in mad, violent angles in hopes of bringing his deadly weapon to bare but he has no luck against the powergamed toughness of the light wielding youth and the keen, disarming whip of Puritan. Outside, a grenade goes off as the sniper and the mercenary go to blows.
Nightwing, from another time and place, staggers into the side entrance of the ballroom and sees the nightmare inside. Blood covers everything. The floor. The ceiling. Every wall. It covers the butchered police officer who is hanging suspended by a chain in the far corner- his body savaged by a chainsaw. It covers the thugs in the corner who are wielding crowbars, knives and blowtorches. It covers the figure they are huddled over- the canvas for their vile work- Tim Drake. Robin. Tortured. Nightwing rages. The thugs fall, broken, in less than a dozen heartbeats.
Whiteskull falls outside, a pointblank shot from the sniper. His ribs are broken. He is bleeding internally. He'll live. Ophanim cuffs him. Chainsaw grows desperate and withdraws from his opponents- rushing the figure of Robin in the other room. Puritan and Nightwing both strike him at once and he smashes into a collapses grand piano in the center of the room- the chainsaw skitters off to the side, spins in a deadly circle three times, then sputters to silence.
Robin is still alive. With one eye that has not been swollen shut he surveys the room and takes note of his saviors. They are dark men, lurking in the shadow. Bruce would like them. Or think they were fools. Then he notices Nightwing.
"Dick? Dick is that you? You look different...you look..." Tim Drake passes out from his severe injuries.
Nightwing unshackles the boy and carries him outside. There is thunder in the distance. Rain is coming. With haste, he climbs on to his bike and rushes to the one place where Tim Drake can possibly be restored. A place that few people know. Below the ruin of what was once Wayne Manor. The Batcave.
A tear in time, the aching swirl of a malfunctioning Boom-tube, a blossom of noise and light in the heart of Crime Alley. Dick Grayson, from another time and another reality, steps out on to the rain slick concrete. It is Gotham City before the end of the world. Somehow, he missed the mark.
Police scanners grumble the nights menu of violence but the Police aren't really listening. Others, however, are. A man all in black with a sniper rifle so precise in can see your sins. A boy with stolen tech who longs to be a hero. A wandering legend who has seen the worst that history has to offer...
On the banks of Gotham Bay is Smoke Town- the charred and abandoned remains of what was once where the wealthy and powerful made their homes. Rows of ruined mansions jut off of the shoreline like blackened, ruined teeth in an unhealthy mouth. Several dark vans pull up in front of an especially decaying molar- thugs drag two figures into the collapsing mansion. There is hell to pay and no one wants to pick up the tab.
Ophanim perches like a bird of prey on a neighboring rooftop- his sniper rifle picking up blossoms of heat even through the thick walls. A displaced Nightwing enters the mansion and staggers out of the shadows. The time travel took more out of him then he first imagined. A thug turns the corner. They are both surprised. The switchblade to Grayson's stomach begins the madness. Gunfire cries out in short, angry accusations as another figure enters from a different window. Moonlight catches the steel of his sword and he moves like a wraith through the burned hallways and door frames. The thugs have no chance. A figure appears seemingly out of nowhere- piercing the darkness with flares of white light. Bullets whisk through the walls with purpose and accuracy, disarming gunmen and kissing temples amidst the unfolding chaos. Grayson finds his feet. He is bleeding terribly.
The charred doors that once stood vigil at the mansion's ballroom burst open and two figures emerge. One has a white skull painted on his face and is armed for war. The second wears a Yakuza mask and is revving a bloody chainsaw. Whiteskull loses his rifle from one of Ophanim's shots and the villain bursts through a nearby window to hunt down the elusive sniper. Chainsaw is surrounded and contorts his body furiously in mad, violent angles in hopes of bringing his deadly weapon to bare but he has no luck against the powergamed toughness of the light wielding youth and the keen, disarming whip of Puritan. Outside, a grenade goes off as the sniper and the mercenary go to blows.
Nightwing, from another time and place, staggers into the side entrance of the ballroom and sees the nightmare inside. Blood covers everything. The floor. The ceiling. Every wall. It covers the butchered police officer who is hanging suspended by a chain in the far corner- his body savaged by a chainsaw. It covers the thugs in the corner who are wielding crowbars, knives and blowtorches. It covers the figure they are huddled over- the canvas for their vile work- Tim Drake. Robin. Tortured. Nightwing rages. The thugs fall, broken, in less than a dozen heartbeats.
Whiteskull falls outside, a pointblank shot from the sniper. His ribs are broken. He is bleeding internally. He'll live. Ophanim cuffs him. Chainsaw grows desperate and withdraws from his opponents- rushing the figure of Robin in the other room. Puritan and Nightwing both strike him at once and he smashes into a collapses grand piano in the center of the room- the chainsaw skitters off to the side, spins in a deadly circle three times, then sputters to silence.
Robin is still alive. With one eye that has not been swollen shut he surveys the room and takes note of his saviors. They are dark men, lurking in the shadow. Bruce would like them. Or think they were fools. Then he notices Nightwing.
"Dick? Dick is that you? You look different...you look..." Tim Drake passes out from his severe injuries.
Nightwing unshackles the boy and carries him outside. There is thunder in the distance. Rain is coming. With haste, he climbs on to his bike and rushes to the one place where Tim Drake can possibly be restored. A place that few people know. Below the ruin of what was once Wayne Manor. The Batcave.