Blackbirds
folder
DC Verse Comics › Batman
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
4,875
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
DC Verse Comics › Batman
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
4,875
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Part 18
PART 18
Ollie showered and changed into sweats before crossing the street to assese dae damaged Youth Center. Bright orange J.L.A. taser tape marked the official crime scene. Grumbling, he went home, shoved his J.L.A com in his pocket, then returned. He ducked under the tape without incident. The two would-be looters behind him, however, weren't so fortunate. He watched them walk into the taser twice. Once more and they'd find their butts unceremoniously transported to the Watchtower for interrogation. The mood he was in, Ollie really hoped they would go for it.
He walked across the cracked basketball court. Medical gloves, papers, towelettes grimy with ash from the firefighters all clung to the wet pools left behind by the hoses. An urban low tide on asphalt.
Star City's Youth Center existed long before Ollie himself had. But he had salvaged it. Fought for it. Cleared out the meth lab hidden behind its boarded windows and the used condoms from under the rusted swingsets. There wasn't a coke tos tossed on the spotless grass that he didn't return to its owner along with a stern lecture about recycling. Usually followed by an invitation to shoot some hoops. Or grab a bite to eat.
Which reminded Ollie to check his watch. In three hours almost a hundred kids would be at his doorstep looking for breakfast. He scanned the building. The kitchen might be salvageable--but not in time. The garish neon of a McMunchies sign beckoned two blocks away. Ollie rubbed a palm across his bleary eyes. The building was still trashed. McMunchies still loomed. "Jesus..." Better than the alternative he admitted reluctantly. Kids turned away one day often didn't bother coming back the next.
He heard Batman's voice in the pool room. Then Black Canary's. He made his way to join them not bothering to be subtle. Hell, Bats had probably known the minute he'd left the house and headed over here. He stopped short, though, when he reached the room. He'd been on enough walk-throughs with B.C. to know not to interrupt.
The others moved through their paces with practiced professionalism. Practiced detachment. Even Nightwing. Dark eyes briefly acknowledged his presence then quickly turned back to business. It was a look he'd expect from Batman, not his lover. A hardness born from a lifetime spent in rough alleys or on razor-edged rooftops. Ollie's chest tightened. There were moments when that darkness could be pushed back but, he realized now, it was never really forgotten.
Ollie showered and changed into sweats before crossing the street to assese dae damaged Youth Center. Bright orange J.L.A. taser tape marked the official crime scene. Grumbling, he went home, shoved his J.L.A com in his pocket, then returned. He ducked under the tape without incident. The two would-be looters behind him, however, weren't so fortunate. He watched them walk into the taser twice. Once more and they'd find their butts unceremoniously transported to the Watchtower for interrogation. The mood he was in, Ollie really hoped they would go for it.
He walked across the cracked basketball court. Medical gloves, papers, towelettes grimy with ash from the firefighters all clung to the wet pools left behind by the hoses. An urban low tide on asphalt.
Star City's Youth Center existed long before Ollie himself had. But he had salvaged it. Fought for it. Cleared out the meth lab hidden behind its boarded windows and the used condoms from under the rusted swingsets. There wasn't a coke tos tossed on the spotless grass that he didn't return to its owner along with a stern lecture about recycling. Usually followed by an invitation to shoot some hoops. Or grab a bite to eat.
Which reminded Ollie to check his watch. In three hours almost a hundred kids would be at his doorstep looking for breakfast. He scanned the building. The kitchen might be salvageable--but not in time. The garish neon of a McMunchies sign beckoned two blocks away. Ollie rubbed a palm across his bleary eyes. The building was still trashed. McMunchies still loomed. "Jesus..." Better than the alternative he admitted reluctantly. Kids turned away one day often didn't bother coming back the next.
He heard Batman's voice in the pool room. Then Black Canary's. He made his way to join them not bothering to be subtle. Hell, Bats had probably known the minute he'd left the house and headed over here. He stopped short, though, when he reached the room. He'd been on enough walk-throughs with B.C. to know not to interrupt.
The others moved through their paces with practiced professionalism. Practiced detachment. Even Nightwing. Dark eyes briefly acknowledged his presence then quickly turned back to business. It was a look he'd expect from Batman, not his lover. A hardness born from a lifetime spent in rough alleys or on razor-edged rooftops. Ollie's chest tightened. There were moments when that darkness could be pushed back but, he realized now, it was never really forgotten.