Batman Beyond #10

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Batman Beyond
Issue #10: “Prodigal, Part Three”
Written by Cam Crowder
Cover by Andy Gray
Edited by Mark Bowers

The Batcave

“Shoot.” Dick said, getting to his feet and approaching the computer. He stood behind Bruce’s chair, waiting tensely for the news he didn’t want to hear.

“One of the chemicals, as I’m sure you already guessed, is the Lazarus chemical,” Bruce said casually. “That part was never a mystery.”

“Yup, now tell me something I don’t know. Like, why a small splash of the stuff made me this much younger.”

“Could be a number of things. For one, the suit could have filtered out some of the more harmful effects. Or, it could be the other chemicals that were mixed with it. It could even be a mixture of both.”

“Wait, does that mean this change is permanent?”

“I’m not sure. Only time will tell.”

“Great. For all I know I’m a ticking time-bomb.” Dick paused for a second and then sighed. He got a humorous mental picture of himself sitting in a restaurant, ordering a salad and exploding as the waiter asked what kind of dressing he preferred. He fought back a grin. “Okay, we’re both avoiding the uncomfortable truth here. If Lazarus Chemicals are involved…”

“Yes, I know…” Bruce said quietly. “…Ra’s”

Dick’s hands clenched into fists. “I thought he was dead, Bruce.”

“We’ve thought that several times, if you remember.”

“Yes, but every other time he popped back up a little quicker, didn’t he? I mean, it’s been about forty years since we’ve seen any trace of him … or am I mistaken?”

“No, you’re right,” Bruce nodded. “There’s been no evidence of him until now.”

“What about Talia? I know you’re too smart not to keep a close eye on her.”

“She’s been behaving as usual. But, odds are she knows I’m watching, which would lead her to be more cautious if she were planning something.”

“Damned if we do, damned if we don’t.” Dick sighed. “I’m too old for this.”

“You’re in your thirties, remember?”

“Very funny. Need I remind you, Mr. Wayne, that this might not even be permanent?”

“I know. But, let’s at least hope it lasts a while.”

“What difference would it make? All it does at this point is make my life more complicated.”

“Ra’s is unlike anything Terry’s ever had to face, and if he really is back, it may be more than Terry can handle at this point. He’s only fifteen.”

“I went toe-to-toe with Ra’s when I was about his age,” Dick argued. “And I did alright.”

“As I recall,” Bruce corrected, “you were in college, and Ra’s nabbed you without a struggle and I was forced to come save you.”

“Do you always have to steal my thunder?” Dick grinned.

A small trace of a smile touched the edge of Bruce’s lips. “I’m an old man. Thunder is noisy, and you know how much the elderly hate noise.”

“Bite me, old man. But, seriously Bruce, even if the kid couldn’t handle it, you’ve got the JLU to handle the big threats.”

“Have you forgotten what Ra’s did to the League during the Near-Apocalypse?”

“No I haven’t, but we worked on those weaknesses after it was all over, right?”

“Yes, but there are others, and I can’t have the League guarding against every weakness, because--”

“Because if any of them ever go rogue, you’ll need something to exploit,” Dick finished.
“Gotcha.”

Bruce paused for a moment. “Do you still keep a file on me?”

“You’re the one that insisted I keep one in the first place. You thought I’d forgotten?” Dick smiled.

“Just making sure. Hard copy or data?”

Dick tapped his forefinger against his head.

“Smart move,” Bruce said with an approving smile.

“Just make sure I don’t ever have to use my info.”

“You do the same.”

Bruce, I’m at the scene, Terry’s voice echoed, reverberating off the cave walls.

Bruce turned around to the monitor. “Good, now search through the remains of the building.”

Can’t do that, boss.

“What?”

That’s just it; there’s nothing to search through. It’s like there was never a building here. Take a look for yourself.

Hitting a series of keys, Bruce logged into the suit’s visual-interface. Terry was right, nothing.

Are you sure your little Robin didn’t give you the wrong address?

“Little Robin here isn’t a rookie like you, kid,” Dick replied. “He’d never make that mistake.”

Then how do you explain the fact that there’s no evidence of a building here? It’s been less than twenty-four hours; there’s no way someone could’ve cleaned this place up that fast.

“Get back to the cave, Terry,” Bruce said. “We’ve got some things to discuss.”

Wait, is my mom doing better? When you called earlier you said she was being taken to the hospital.

“No word yet on any change.”

Then I’m stopping there first.

“Alright, just don’t take too long. We’ve got some important things to discuss.”

The line went silent.

“Bruce, if there was any doubt before, I think it’s gone. Only one man that we know of has the resources to pull off something like this in such a short time.”

“I know. The question is: what are we going to do about it?”

“Good question.” Dick paused, then added, “I just hope we can find a good answer before it’s too late.”

Gotham General

“Excuse me,” Terry said, approaching the nurse’s desk. “I was told my mom and brother were brought here for treatment.”

He had changed into his civvies in the car on his way over. It wasn’t easy in such a cramped space, but he managed. He even had the car drop him off a half-mile away in an alley, just to make sure no one saw him.

“Name?” the nurse sitting at the computer replied with a yawn.

“McGinnis.”

The nurse paused for a moment, uneasy. She looked Terry straight in the eye, sorrow and compassion plain on her face. “Ah, Mr. McGinnis,” she said finally, “Doctor Morgan wanted to speak with you as soon as you arrived. Please, have a seat over there and I’ll page him for you.” She motioned to a lone chair no more than five feet across from the desk.

The whole time Terry sat there, he felt like he was under a microscope. The nurse leaned in and whispered to one of the other nurses, who then gave him the same, pained look the first had given him. That nurse then whispered to another, and it went on and on.

Fear gripped Terry. Something’s wrong. Why are they looking at me like that? He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Before long, a tall man with dark skin and brown hair approached the nurse’s desk wearing blue scrubs. He leaned over the counter and said something to the nurse and she nodded her head towards Terry.

The doctor turned and slowly approached Terry with a grim expression. “Hello, Terry,” he said, extending a hand. Streaks of gray now showed in his hair. “I’m Doctor Phillip Morgan.”

Terry shook his hand. “How are my mom and brother?” he asked, skipping any more pleasantries. With the way they were acting, he was becoming more and more worried.

“Your brother is doing fine,” Morgan replied. “We’re going to keep him overnight to make sure no infection sets up in his hand, but after that, he’ll be ready to check out.”

“And my mom?”

The doctor sighed. “She’s stable, for now, but still critical.”

“Will she be alright?” Terry asked quickly.

“I’m going to shoot straight with you, Terry.”

That couldn’t be good.

“Your mother’s condition is … unusual.”

“Unusual how?”

“Well, she lost a lot of blood … I guess the police told you the details?”

“Yeah,” Terry lied. The truth was Bruce had told him everything. He hadn’t spoken to any cops at all, but that wasn’t important right now. “Stabbed through the abdomen.”

“Yes, and as soon as she arrived, we gave her three pints; it was that bad.”

“Stop beating around the bush, Doc,” Terry said. “Tell me what I need to know.”

Morgan sighed again, deeper this time. “Her condition is unusual because, even after her blood count regulated, her brain activity hasn’t returned to normal functioning. She’s in a coma, Terry, and we don’t know why...” he paused again. “… She’s dying.”

Terry felt his breath catch. The floor felt cold beneath his palms. Funny, he hadn’t remembered going down on his knees. He blinked and the nurse he’d spoken to at the desk was kneeling in front of him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his head against her shoulder. His eyes were misty and he saw drops of water staining her shirt. Was he crying? He thought he heard someone cry out in pain, but he couldn’t be sure.

The Batcave - Hours Later

The Batmobile screamed to a halt on its designated platform. The hatch opened and Terry bounded out, once again wearing the batsuit.

“Here,” he said, shoving a small blood sample in Bruce’s face, “test this and tell me what you find.”

Bruce eyed the sample then looked up at Terry. “Anyone ever teach you to say ‘please’?”

“Just do it!” Terry barked, turning toward the stairs. “I need to clear my head. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Well, wasn’t he just a ray of sunshine?” Dick said aloud as Terry disappeared from view. The entrance resealed, devouring the small pool of light Terry had let in as he left.

“Something’s wrong,” Bruce replied, feeding the blood sample into the computer’s analyzer. “Granted, he’s always been a smart-ass, but this is different. Something’s happened to his family.”

“Makes sense, I guess. He pays a visit to the hospital, pops back a few hours later with a rod up his ass.” Dick was still wearing his old Nightwing suit, minus the mask. “Think I’ll head upstairs and have a chat with our little sunbeam. I need to get out of this suit anyway. Still got some of my old duds upstairs?”

“Last room on the right.”

“Some things never change.”

*****

Terry stood alone in front of the living room window, staring into space.

“So, what’s the deal, kid?” Dick asked, leaning his back against the wall beside the window, crossing his arms. “You disappear for hours, then show up barking orders with no explanation. Something you wanna talk about?”

“Not to you,” Terry replied coldly.

Dick sighed. “Look, I know you don’t really know me, and we haven’t exactly gotten off on the right foot so far, but you clearly need to get something off your chest, and I’ve got nothing but time. So, it’s your call.”

Silence.

Dick didn’t move.

Finally, Terry spoke. “My mom’s dying … and the doctors don’t know why.”

“What do you mean, they don’t know why?”

“After they got her to the hospital, they gave her some blood … a lot of blood. They gave her enough to regulate her, but it isn’t working. Her body is still shutting down without any cause.”

“Or at least no cause that they can see,” Dick interjected, scratching his chin. “That’s why you swiped a blood sample, I take it?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t that hard once I got back to my suit.”

“What about your brother? Is he alright?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. I stopped in to visit him, but he was sleeping. They said he’d be ready to go home tomorrow.”

“That’s good.” He paused for a moment. “Look, Terry, I’m sorry about your mom, really, but you’ve got to reign in those emotions.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“How the hell would you know?”

“Because I’ve been there.”

The next few moments passed in silence, without a word from either of them.

“Well, we’ve eaten up enough time,” Dick said finally. “You’d better go check in with Bruce. I’m sure he’s gotten the results in by now.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to take a long-overdue shower and change into some regular clothes. I’ll be down in a bit.”

Terry turned to leave then stopped halfway across the room. “For what it’s worth, thanks,” he said over his shoulder before continuing into the den.

After descending the stairs into the Batcave, Terry approached Bruce at the computer.

“Good, you’re here,” Bruce said, eyes facing the computer. There was something uneasy in his voice.

“What did you find out?” Terry asked, fighting to keep his voice from shaking.

“Something I didn’t want to find,” Bruce replied. He leaned back in the chair and rested his chin on clasped hands. “Glymnite.”

Terry’s eyes widened. “You … you mean the same poison that killed…”

“Yes,” Bruce said solemnly, with his usual stone-faced expression. “The same poison used to kill Charles Hanson.”

It all came flooding back to Terry in an instant. He still remembered their faces as if he were looking right at them; they were forever etched into his mind. Charles Hanson and Beth Saunders.

Apparently, after Man-Bat attacked them all those weeks ago, Beth had somehow had Charles poisoned in his hosptial bed. She was found a while later in a broom closet on the same floor, a self-inflicted knife-wound on her wrist. The nurse who she’d hired to slip the glymnite into Charles’s I.V. couldn’t bear the guilt and bellowed her confession within minutes of the G.C.P.D. arriving.

Terry hadn’t thought about the event in over a week, for which he was both thankful and angry. They deserved to be remembered, even Beth, no matter what she’d done. And the truth was, Terry still wasn’t convinced she had done anything. He still remembered talking to her, staring into her deep, loving eyes; was she really capable of murder?

Bruce felt similarly, but for different reasons. He tried to tell Terry that, no matter what he thought, anyone was capable of anything, and the sooner he learned that, the better off he’d be. It just wasn’t so easy for Terry to accept.

“Who?” Terry growled through clenched teeth, his fists balled so tight he thought his palms might bleed.

“The herbs used to produce glymnite can only be found in the more remote caves of India,” Bruce began.

“Which means that whoever did this possibly has connections worldwide ,” Terry concluded, earning an approving nod from Bruce. He would have smiled at the approval under better circumstances. “So, next question is: is there a cure?”

“Yes, but we’ll need some of the herbs to make the antidote.”

“Just tell me where to go and I’m there.”

****

Kinda quiet down here, Dick thought as he made his way down the steps into the cave.

As he stepped out onto the main floor, Terry and Bruce both turned to look at him, Bruce leaning on his cane for support.

“Okay,” Dick said, crossing his arms and glancing between them. “I feel like a deer in the headlights here. Care to explain?”

“We need your help,” Terry said slowly.

“Mmhmm, with?”

“Terry and I have to travel to India to get the ingredients for a glymnite antidote for his mother,” Bruce said.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Glymnite, eh? Guess that means we’re dealing with someone with decent connections here. Which, coupled with what we already discussed, doesn’t look good.” He shrugged. “Ah, but now I’m rambling. I take it, since you said ‘Terry and I’, that means you’re going along on the trip, meaning you need someone to watch Gotham while the two of you are indisposed?”

“You think you’re up for it?” Terry asked.

He mulled it over for a second in his head, weighing the pros and cons, and decided it didn’t matter; he had known what he was going to say before he thought it over anyway.

“Nightwing reporting for duty … again. God, it feels good to say that.” He grinned. “Any new bells and whistles on this old computer I don’t know about?”

“Nothing major. If you have any questions just asked the computer, it can explain it for you.”

“Alright, sounds good. When are you two leaving?”

“Two hours,” Bruce replied. “Which means we have to pack. I’ve already made arrangements for Terry’s brother. He’ll be staying with Barbara until we get back.”

Dick whistled. “How’d you manage that? Threaten to air some of her dirty laundry?”

Bruce didn’t answer.

****

We’re boarding now, Bruce said. We’ll keep in touch as we can, but the comms lines haven’t been tested over these kinds of distances in a while, so I’m not sure how well it’s going to work.

“No better way to find out,” Dick said, staring at the computer, studying a group of schematics. “But, I’m sure it’ll do fine. Since when did you ever half-ass anything you built?”

Anyway, we’re going silent until we reach India, unless there’s some kind of emergency.

“Understood. Good luck, you two.”

The comms went silent after that.

“Now, let’s see what we can do with this,” Dick said, typing at the keys. He had known as soon as he’d agreed to Bruce and Terry’s request that he needed to do a bit of work. His old suit wouldn’t cut it anymore, and he knew it. It was time to make some changes. He might be younger now, but he still wasn’t a kid anymore, and that meant some major changes.

He started with the prototype, the one he’d swiped from the auction house. He scanned it for any abnormalities and fixed the problem with the stealth systems. Next he moved to other functionalities, like strength.

Bruce built his suit because he was getting old and he needed the extra help. I won’t need boosts on quite that level, but a bit of strength-enhancement couldn’t hurt. Can’t forget speed either; that was something Bruce never did put enough focus on.

Another thought hit him and he cracked a smile. I’ll finally be able to fly.

He worked well into the morning, moving from the worktable to the computer and back again, tweaking the design and functionality of the new suit. He knew he couldn’t play by the old rules anymore; things had changed, and he had to adapt if he was going to do a decent job.

Finally, after almost ten hours of nonstop effort, he was done. Luckily he had a reasonable knowledge of the tech Bruce had used, or he never would have been able to get anywhere. But, he’d gotten it done.

He took the suit and mask, new bright-blue emblems emblazoned on them, and replaced his old suit with them on the mannequin. He then turned and headed upstairs to get some rest. It was afternoon now, and he had to be up at nightfall.

Gotham doesn’t sleep at night, he thought. Why the hell should I get to?

And so the city moved through the day as if nothing was amiss. Completely unaware that, come nightfall, the city would greet a new hero.

Nightwing Beyond.


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