The World As It Was...

The World As It Was…



Disclaimer: All characters are property of DC comics. Not making any money out of this, so pretty please don’t sue me…



A/N: This is something of an experiment of a story. It’s hardly a new one, but it’s one I haven’t done personally.

So…don’t expect the Titans as you know them canonically. Expect a grand, over the top, alteration of the characters, of their mentors, of their enemies, and of their world.

Have fun.



Across the world, there is a saying. Wherever people huddle round fires, wherever they may gather, no matter the language they speak, the same words are spoken.

The world was a better place, once.

Those too young to remember and taught by those who saw what happened with their own eyes. Even with the death toll of the past six years, there are still plenty of those who saw, who remember, and who form part of society’s greatest defence mechanism- fables.

The world was a better place, once, before they got out of hand.

A fable. A story, told from person to person. Changing in the telling, but always staying true to the core of its meaning. That, once, they did not fear the others who now ruled them. That they did not fear, but instead rejoiced in the world and their heroes.

The world was a better place, once, before they took action against the greatest of evils.

Things were not perfect then. Not by far. There were villains and plaques and poverty and illness. But they were all things that could, one day, be conquered, if people strived hard enough. If people applied their intelligence, and stood strong against the ills of the world.

The world was a better place, once, before the old evil was eradicated.

Six years ago, a group of individuals decided to take a stand. For years, they had been gathered together for that cause, but had always been restricted. By the laws of the world. By lack of resources. By their own moral codes. But one day, they saw the shape of the world, and decided that it could stand no longer.

The world was a better place, once, before the League changed.

The Justice League, home of the world’s greatest heroes, had decided that enough was enough. They struck hard, and without consent from any governing body but for their own governing council. They made countries stop wars of aggression. They destroyed illegal drug trade. They toppled dictators. They crushed unscrupulous companies. They did this in full view of the world.

The world was a better place, once, before the League split.

Many objected to the new tactics. Many heroes left the League, disgusted with its actions. Some left for the stars, others for dimensions unknown to mankind. Others reformed an old organisation, in an attempt to hearken back to the days of old, where Justice meant living within society, not outside of it. But the most powerful stayed with the League, determined to finish what they had begun.

The world was a better place, once, before the war began.

The Justice Society, reformed by a dozen heroes who had left the League, soon gained support of the UN, and of the governments of the world. They struck the League in an attack that crippled their satellite base. The war had begun.

The world was a better place, once, before the world was wreaked.

For six months, the war raged across the globe. Cities, whole countries, were wrecked in the process. Countless millions died in the crossfire. But in the end, only one side stood alive and victorious.

The world was a better place, once, before the League ruled it.

Imposing their will on the world, they set about changing it. But infra structure across the globe was wrecked. The League’s resources could barely hold onto the territory they had, let alone expand across the globe. And so the social revolution the League could have forged was crippled. Limited to cities they ruled. Limited by the survivors of the opposing side.

The world was a better place, once…



However, this is only a long term defence. A warning to future generations. For now, apathy is the dominant mindset in those places ruled by metahumans.

A prime example is the city on the west coast of what was formerly the United States of America. Jump City, a city relatively insignificant and only lightly touched by the war. Shortly after the end of the conflict between the League and the Society, a new group emerged in it.

The city, the only one still standing to any degree on the west coast, was changed. In three years, the new group of metahumans had driven off all enemies. The city started to increase in size- thousands emigrated to it when they heard word of its increasing prosperity.

Three years, for the group to consolidate their hold on the city. To face their own demons. To make their own way in the world.

Not everyone approves.



The Tower sits in the middle of the bay, like a fortress of old.

A central tower, a dozen stories high. Five wings sprouting like the points of a star.

The whole surface of its roof is clustered with aerials, with satellite dishes, ventilation ducts, defences, and other, less obvious, pieces of equipment.

Moving silently across the roof, a trio of figures. Each one dressed in mottled shades of green. Each one with items slung over their back.

They didn’t utter a word as they moved over the roof of the north wing. Carefully removing the cover to a ventilation duct. Disabling the alarms. Rappelling down, into a maze of Spartan corridors.

Moving silently, through winding corridors, past countless blank doors, until they reached the single door they were interested in.

Breaching it silently, they moved into the darkness within.

Before them, laid out in careful patterns, was the most powerful super computer on the west coast.

The central figure gestured, gained the attention of the other two infiltrators.

“Get the information we want. Leave the rest.” He said in quiet, confident tones.

“All the information in there, all the ability to blackmail the city…we should destroy it.” The other said.

“You heard GA.” The third said. “They mustn’t know we’re back in the area until its too late.” She added.

“I just don’t like it, Speedy.” The second said, going to work all the same.

“We don’t have the luxury, Arsenal. Let’s just get out of here before they know we’re here…” Speedy said, keeping her tone hushed, her eyes- visible between strips of cloth that concealed her face- darting around nervously.

They took up positions as their leader did what they came here for. Accessing a terminal, circumventing security measures, copying certain files.

In bare minutes, he was done. It wasn’t soon enough for any of them.

“Let’s go.” He said, starting to move for the door.

A shadow detached itself from the ceiling.

“Going so soon, Arrow?” It said as it landed smoothly, rising to its feet. A one piece body suit of dark blue, marked out in black armour plating on vital points. Streamlined pouches on his body. A mask concealing his eyes. An extendable alloy staff in his hand.

“Nightwing.” The leader of the intruders said, a bow appearing in his hands in a bare second, an arrow notched.

“Thought I wouldn’t have silent alarms? For shame.”

He leaped forward. An arrow arched forward with deadly accuracy. It was smacked aside with a sweep of his staff.

“Roy, Mia- go!” He barked, the disc still in his hand, as Nightwing closed the distance.

The disc went through the air, a moment before Nightwing’s staff connected with his chin.

He responded, his knee slamming into the other man’s groin. Nightwing grunted, his head snapping forward to slam his forehead into Green Arrow’s nose, splitting it open in a spray of blood.

There were running feet.

“You’ll loose, ‘wing.” He taunted, keeping his enemy distracted. Nigthwing’s elbow slammed into his gut. The return blow knocked the staff out of Nightwing’s hand.

“Quiet, Connor. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Nightwing’s blow slammed into Arrow’s knee. Arrow’s return blow smashed into Nightwing’s gut.

“Playing the name card? You should know better, Dick.”

“I do. Your fighting close range. I’ve been fighting like this for a dozen years. Who do you think will win?”

“Honestly?” He almost paused for a second. Nightwing was already drawing his fist back before Green Arrow had even thought about pausing. “Me.”

He spat. His aim was, as always, impeccable.

Nightwing reeled, for just a second.

It was enough time to make his escape.

Cursing, Nightwing set off in pursuit.



Not concerned with noise anymore, the two of them scrambled up the ropes they’d left in place, limbs banging against the metal surface as they squeezed their way up.

Arsenal all but flopped onto the roof, landing ungracefully. He checked the pouch with the disc. No sense coming all this way just to loose it.

It was still there. Good. Good. Some good might just come out of this night…

Behind him, Speedy landed lightly on his feet as he got to his.

“Let’s go.” He managed to say, through the clothe wrapped round the lower half of his face.

“Think Connor’s gonna get out of there?” Speedy asked, as they sprinted across the roof.

“Don’t know. Can’t worry about it. The disc is all we got to worry ab-”

There was a roar, to their left.

They were already aiming by the name is careened through dishes and aerials and ducts.

It was hard to see in the darkness, but it looked like a cross between an eagle and a lion. It was green. Dark, menacing.

Arrows impacted in it, but barely slowed it down.

They dodged.

It skidded, roaring as it changed form.

A huge, hundred foot long serpent, fangs dripping with poison, lunged at them.

An explosion went off beneath it, and it tumbled down into the building below.

“That wont hold him for long.” Arsenal said, shouldering his bow. “So keep moving!”

They ran.

The edge of the building loomed.

They leapt.

They hit the ground in a roll.

Arsenal got up, but only barely.

Speedy paused a dozen metres away when she realised Arsenal wasn’t running, only jogging, painfully.

“Roy!”

“Here.” He tossed the disc as her. She caught it.

“I’m not leaving-”

“I’m not asking you to. But if they catch up, you can escape on your own if you have to. That info has to get to someone. Survivors from the Society, or Cadmus, maybe. You understand?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now lets both get out of here.”

Ahead, a small shape could be seen, bobbing on the gentle waves of the bay.

They ran as fast as they could.

They paused at the edge of the water when they saw its condition. The engine had been wreaked. Everything in it had been trashed.

“Shit!” Speedy blurted, staring at the damage.

“Have to swim.” Arsenal stated, the cloth covering his face falling down around his neck from his staggering run.

“Across the bay? It’s miles!”

“Ollie trained you in this though, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but I never done it for real, you know?”

“Always a first time. Get rid of your bow, your cloak. It’ll slow you down. Get to the city, get to the safe house. I don’t want you dying of hypothermia. When your ready, get the hell out the city.”

She nodded, then paused.

“Your coming too, right?”

“With this ankle? Fat chance. Besides, I got to keep them occupied. Bringing them down is the reason we’re here, remember, Mia? Because of what they’ve done.”

“Because of what they do to people like Ollie.”

“Right, right. They wont get me, though. Understand? I’m going to fight hard and I’m going to win. I’ll find some other way to escape. Hide out somewhere. Then we can meet up when you’ve brought the cavalry in.”

She nodded, trying to set her appearance of one of steely determination. But it was painfully obvious what she was really thinking.

I’m a kid. I’m out of my depth. I’m going to die out there, as he dies here.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, then. Be careful?”

“Always.” He said with a false grin.

She discarded her cloak. Her bow, her ammo and equipment she handed to Arsenal.

She paused for a moment as she put the disc in a watertight pouch of her semi armoured, heat-retaining bodysuit. A scared, petrified, kid. But she saw Arsenal grin as he always did. Every time they’d faced odds that seemed impossible, they’d won.

They’d all trained under the original Green Arrow. Fought with him for years. Learnt so very much. And always pulled through. They had always found a way to win.

When they cleared bandits from the lawless zone that had been Florida, they hadn’t had a chance to win- three against hundreds, against thousands? Impossible odds.

When they had fought against the Joker in the ruins of Bludhaven.

Whey they had broken political prisoners out of a prison in Metropolis.

Connor and Roy would find a way. They always did. Sending her off made simple sense. This information was important.

And then…they’d meet again.

“Aim true.” She said, and without a backwards glance, she plunged into the bay.



There was an explosion within the tower. The doors from the north wing to the central tower were blown open.

Connor sprinted through them, through the corridor that led straight into the central room of the tower- a large, circular room, with a huge table set in the centre. Here was where they held court, where they listened to those few they allowed to speak to them…

The room’s ceiling was halfway up the tower.

Good. Perfect.

An arrow was shot up, a thin, strong rope attached to it. It latched into a gap. A winch was attached to the end of the rope.

The rope smouldered and shook as Connor rocketed up it.

Pushing into a duct, pulling the rope up after him to conceal his point of access, Connor crawled through the narrow space.

He felt compacted on all sides. Nothing could get through, it seemed.

He pushed on regardless. He felt his skin abrade.

He started to feel sympathy for TV dinners, now.

Not that he’d had a TV dinner since before the war, but still…



A trail of light approached.

Roy looked up. He’d absently pulled the scarf that had concealed his face off. It made little sense to wear it now.

The goggles, however, stayed on.

The light was orange, and aimed directly at him.

He shot an arrow in front of it.

A brilliant light exploded mere feet from it. There was an indistinct yell.

The goggles had automatically polarised. Unlike his target, he could still see.

No sense holding back, either, he thought as he notched another arrow and let one fly.

This one exploded on impact with the target, sending it tumbling from the sky.

He hurried over, another arrow already in place.

But the figure was on its feet.

Orange skinned. Eyes a multitude of greens. Hair like she was afire. Armour, heavy enough to break a human’s spine, painted a royal blue, symbols marked in silver. Blazing green energy surrounded her fists.

“Aw shit.”

He fired another arrow, but she was onto his tactics now. Energy blasted forth from her eyes, incinerating it.

He leapt aside as she destroyed the ground he was standing on.

Another arrow was launched, another a second after it. The second seemed to miss its mark, and she ignored it.

Advantage, Roy Harper, he couldn’t help but think.

Gas billowed out from the impact. His enemy stumbled backwards, coughing and spluttering.

He shot another arrow at her, one that spilled forth more gas.

She fell to her knees, hacking up her lungs.

He grinned in relief. Maybe he could find an escape route after all…

“Now, now, now. That wasn’t very nice of you, was it?”

He turned to the new voice, already notching an arrow. By the time he’d turned to face the enemy, he was aimed. It took less than a microsecond for him to decide to fire.

The figure in the dark red robe raised her hand.

The arrow splintered into a thousand pieces.

Beneath the hood, a quad of eyes the colour of drying blood seemed to regard him with amusement.

A brief breeze picked up, strong enough to swift the air noticeably.

“I beat one of you. I can beat another.”

The hovering figure said nothing.

“An alien, a daemon. What difference, eh?”

The air shifted again.

“I thought so. Took out Koriand’r. Just you between me and my freedom, Raven.” Arsenal said, notching an arrow into place, taking aim.

“It’s not that simple.”

The voice was haughty and superior. Used to orders being obeyed. Used to crushing those who did not obey those orders.

Koriand’r, exiled princess of Tamaran, stood proudly.

“Jesus titty fucking Christ! Doesn’t anyone here fucking die?”



Connor paused, mid crawl. Something wasn’t right.

His eyes watered fractionally.

He stopped breathing, threw an explosive ahead of him.

The entire duct collapsed, and he tumbled out onto the floor, gasping for breath.

Gas!

He was lucky, he knew, as he bent over double, hacking up mucus. If he’d been in there for a second longer, he’d be doing more than hacking up the contents of his lungs.

He pushed himself to his feet.

He’d landed in what looked like a service corridor.

Nearby, a sign. He moved over to it, quickly.

So…he was near the top of the tower.

It was probably an automated defence he’d triggered. No one in their right mind would go up the tower- they’d head for the bay, try to get off the island, if they’d been caught out.

He was in his right mind, alright. He knew exactly what he was doing.

He kicked open a door. It led to a stairwell. He started sprinting up the stairs, three at a time.

They would be aircraft up here. Booby trapped, more than likely. Monitored, alarmed. He would have barely a minute to break into one and take off before they were onto him.

By now, the others would probably be in the boat. They might have been pursued.

If they were, he might be able to fight off two or three of the enemy.

If they had abandoned their pursuit of Arsenal and Speedy, he was as good as dead. He’d make a good account of himself, but there could be no way he would win. But the others would get away, and with the information they had, it would a victory like no other…

The stairwell ended abruptly, and he burst out into another corridor, this one only one floor from the top.

He started sprinting down the corridor, looking for an alternative stairwell, when it hit him.

He didn’t hear it. It was too high pitched, too loud, for him to hear. But it brought him to his knees.

The pain was unbearable. He tried to yell, but he couldn’t hear his own voice.

After a while, it stopped. His ears still rang. Blood trickled down the sides of his face.

“So, it does work. Interesting.” The voice was cold, detached from the world around it.

Connor looked up and saw him approaching. An inhuman figure, massively altered.

His limbs were huge, mechanical. Bits of technology sprouted from his body. One eye was visibly cybernetic. The other looked normal, but Connor knew appearances could be deceptive.

“The Machinist IS a useful man to have around, is he not?” This voice came from behind him, followed by a blow to the back of his knee.

Another blow struck his prone form, breaking his jaw.

Connor didn’t say a word. He wouldn’t give Nightwing the satisfaction.

“Connor Hawke. A member of a dying breed.” Nightwing said, his staff lashing out, breaking bones every time. “You think you can just live inside of society and not be affected by it? You think your normal? None of our kind is. We saw the others teach us that. We can either seize control of our destinies, or watch humanity tumble and fall as we attempt to fix petty crimes.”

At least two ribs were broken, Connor knew. His leg, his arm.

“To seize control, to lead humanity where it needs to go, requires sacrifices. We have sacrificed much. Our place as mere humans, happy in our ignorance. Many of our compunctions.”

He wasn’t going anywhere.

“You do know, don’t you,” Nightwing said, whispering in Connor’s ear, “That my father never wanted to go to war with yours? He regretted the original Green Arrow’s death. But in the end, it’s the only way things could have turned out. Just as I know you’ll never join us. But I have respect for you. Your death, when it comes, will be clean. It will be honourable.”

He’d lost.

“I will not have you publicly executed. Others I have had done so, for reasons that should be obvious. To let the population know that deviation from our rule will be punished. There is no need for us to do that to you. Before this day, you were a folk legend. Beating back bandits, saving the populations of the crumbling cities in the mid west…wonderful stuff, really. It reminded people of simple heroes. Then they see us, and see their city. It is more than simply protected by us- it thrives. We oversee every aspect of life here. From highest to lowest, none are exempt.

“We thrive, while the ruined cities out there crumble. Every day, more people arrive here. Willing to sacrifice freedom for prosperity. And why not? We do not prey on the innocent. We only punish the wicked. Murders, thieves- they are dying out fast. We give people their vices- prostitution, drugs, art, television, public executions…we give them their services. Hospitals have never been better. People can walk the streets and not have to worry about being mugged. Criminals are promptly sent to our prison, and they are removed from society, their threat is removed.

“I do not claim that this is a perfect city. We have much work to be done before we can make such grand claims. But compared to what went before…”

Nightwing paused.

“You passed out already? I thought you were made of sterner stuff…”



Roy staggered backwards. His bow shattered, splintered into countless pieces.

Another blow broke his arm at a third point.

A telepathic presence broke apart his will.

He collapsed, falling face first into the dirt.



He awoke briefly.

He was being dragged across a floor. A metal floor, he noted dimly.



Whispering.

Harsh breath. Ragged, panting.

Two voices, admonishing each other, snarling insults practically.

He wished he knew who it was.



Her hands were looped round her wrists.

Pale grey skin laid over fiery orange.

“Release me.”

She paused for a moment, considered her possible responses.

She released her hands.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Raven got up, scooping up her full body robe from the floor. Donning it once again.

Koriand’r took longer. Pulling straps tight. Arranging plates of armour so they covered vital organs.

They were both slick with sweat. Their breath was still ragged.

“Not a word.” Koriand’r said, pulling on a strap harder than was strictly necessary. “Not to any of them.”

“As if I’d tell anyone. As if I don’t know the meaning of power.”

There was a rush of air. Of pressure. Raven was pinned against the wall, Koriand’r’s hand at her throat.

“Remember. Nightwing is MINE.”

“I remember. But I also know that all we do is influence. All it is, is debt.” She tilted her head. “Tell me, how much do you owe me for today?”

Spitting insults, Koriand’r removed her hand, and stalked away.

“He’ll have put Arrow into a cell by now. Any word from Menagerie?”

“Not yet.”



Some time later, Roy Harper awoke.

Suddenly, unexpectedly.

“Breathe carefully.” A voice told him. “You’ve just received a major rejuve drug. You still have major injuries, so try not to move.”

“W’re’s…”

“Take a breath.” The voice told him. “Let your body adjust first.”

He did as the voice told him, breathed in. Tried to calm himself down. His heart was racing. He could barely focus.

In, out.

His heart rate started to steady.

In, out.

“Where’s…Mia?” He murmured.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

The voice seemed indifferent, casual.

“…fuck. It’s you.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Nightwing said, coming into view at last, stepping around from behind Arsenal.

He was in a padded chair, restrained at the wrists, ankles, waist and chest.

“Don’t struggle. The bonds will only get tighter if you do.”

Roy glared at his captor.

“Now tell me. Why are you here?”

He said nothing. It was his best bet. If he said anything, it would be the end for Mia. He had to hold out for as long as he could. Let her get out of the city. Let her head for their allies.

He’d been trained in what to do. Say nothing. Give nothing away. Eventually, they would break him. The human body and mind could only hold up for so long. But he’d hold on long enough for Mia to get away…

Nightwing paused, listened to something. A device in his ear.

He walked to a desk, the only piece of furniture other than the chair that Roy could see in the room.

“You might want to see this.” Nightwing said conversationally, tapping a few concealed buttons in the desk.

Something moved- a screen rotated round the room to sit on the wall opposite Roy. A moment later, it clicked on.

“These images are live, by the way.” He added. Roy barely heard him.

It was the bay. The bay Jump City was built around.

In it, a huge, serpentine creature swam. It tossed something up into the air.

Something human.

The image lacked sound, but he could imagine the sounds.

“No…”

“Do you see those two objects, circling him?” Nightwing asked. “They’re Koriand’r and Raven. They’re the only things holding Menagerie back from eating her alive.”

He looked at Roy, who’d squeezed his eyes shut.

“Soon, they’ll fly back here. Do you want them to return empty handed?”

“…no…”

“Good. We’re making progress, I see.”



He’d spoken at length.

Nightwing had listened carefully.

“An intriguing plan. And well executed. But who were you going to take the information to, Roy? You can tell me.”

“I don’t know. We didn’t have anything decided. We were just…”

“I know, I know. Your plan was flexible. But you must have had some names, surely. Some people you could have contacted.”

“I don’t know any of it…”

Nightwing sighed.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, Roy. But you have forced my hand.”

He murmured something into a throat microphone. A moment later, the door to the room, somewhere behind Roy, opened. There was the sound of a body being dragged into the room.

The body was deposited before him.

Soaking wet. Wounds hastily bandaged. Clothing torn and damaged.

She lay shivering, unconscious, on the cold metal floor.

“I have many options, Roy. I could undo those bandages, pry open those wounds, and let her bleed to death in front of you. I could imprison her. Have her mind wiped. Any number of things.”

Roy mouthed something, but it lacked any focus.

“Or I could hand her over to Menagerie. Did you see the look in his eyes when he dragged her in? He wants to kill or to fuck. Or both, probably. Do you really want me to hand her over to him?”

“You bastard…”

“Yes, probably.” Nightwing got up, slowly walked round his captive.

“You see, you are a problem. Not you specifically. You’ll be dealt with soon enough. I’m talking about your kind of people. The ones who operate outside, who only correct problems when they see them occurring. I am pre-emptive- I am trying to create a better world. I do not have the power to do that on my own, or even with the entire world, so instead I am forced to focus on one city, and to ally myself with others.

“They all have aims of their own, Roy. It is the nature of sentient beings, and I can’t change it. It means I have to ally myself with people I do not necessarily like. But consider- three years ago, Jump City was a city of five hundred thousand. Relatively undamaged by the war, true enough, but crippled economically. It had been like that for years before the war. It is hardly a paradigm of virtue.

“Now, we have a city of two million. A city that is prosperous. The greatest city on the west coast. Not perfect, no. But a shining example in these post war years. I have given them peace and prosperity. In return, they obey. Oh, they have a mayor, but he is simply an interface, a bureaucrat. A necessary person, but one who knows his place.

“So tell me, already. Tell me who you were going to give this information to. Give me the names of your contacts, and in return, I will ensure that her death, as well as your own, is quiet, clean, and dignified.”



The sun was rising now. Rising at last.

Technicians oversaw the repair of the damage. They knew that it would be declared a state secret soon enough, and were wisely keeping their mouths shut.

In a conference room, the five of them sat.

Nightwing, de facto leader, and the only purely human member of the group.

Koriand’r, exiled princess, dreaming of a return to the stars.

Raven, a fusion of daemon and human, who stayed now only for resources and sacrifices.

The Machinist, master of all things artificial, forever buried in his week, in altering his machinery and his very form.

Menagerie, changed first by science, and then by mystical forces, now forever sublimed to his baser urges.

“We have names.” Nightwing began. “Addresses. Details of various groups. I would hazard that they lead to various former members of the defeated Society.”

“They why are we still here?” Koriand’r demanded.

“To decide whether we should leave the city and hunt them down ourselves, or if we should sell the information to the League.”

“What are the arguments for and against?” The Machinist asked, for once not lost in thought about his creations. His appearance had already changed from last night- he had switched to a different arm, one possessing a dozen fine mechanical tools, instead of the large sonic cannon he had sported previously.

“If we get them ourselves, we have the people ourselves to do as we wish.”

“However?” Raven asked, her hood drawn up over her head, drooping over her eyes.

“We’ll be fighting vastly experienced superhuman beings. And we may displease the League to a certain extent.”

“What else can we do? Screw the League. Let ‘em go fuck themselves for all I care.” Menagerie said with a dismissive wave.

“If we hand the names over, we will attain certain…bonuses. Perhaps favourable trading contracts with the tri-city state.”

“We’re about to reach a major deal with Tokyo-3. This could put it in jeopardy.” Koriand’r observed.

“Then we should keep it quiet. Have only a one or two of us leave the city at any one time.” Raven suggested.

“Good idea- keep everyone here, send me.” Menagerie said.

“We’ll send two at a time.” Nightwing declared. Grab the suspects, bring them back here. Interrogate them, then put decide what to do with them.” He looked round at the others. “Objections?”

There were none.

“Very well. We shall deal with them in this way. We’ll discuss what targets to go after in the afternoon meeting. Dismissed.”

Nightwing got up, headed for the door.

“One last thing.” Raven called out.

He turned. “What?”

“The captives from last night. What will become of them?”

“I’ve disposed of them.”



A door opened. Light spilled in, over the captive who sat in the darkness, restrained by shackles, naked.

The door closed, and a figure moved in. Stood before the captive.

The captive looked up.

“Thought you were going to execute me…”

“Yes. You did think that, didn’t you?”

He sat down, out of the reach of the prisoner, out of the reach of his restrained form.

“I have questions to ask you.”

“Won’t get anything from me.”

“Perhaps not. But you wont like the consequences.”

“I’ve been tortured before. Think that scares me?”

“Not physical torture, no. But what of your followers?”

“What? Who are you…”

“I’m talking of Arsenal and Speedy. Or Roy and Mia. Whichever you prefer, Connor.”

“They’re here…?”

“Yes, they were captured. They never got off the island. Well, Mia did. She got halfway across the bay before Menagerie captured her. And, no, don’t worry- he did nothing to her.”

“Why are we here still?”

“Because I wish to learn. How to move like you, how to fight like you. So I have another string to my bow, as it were.”

Connor didn’t say anything.

“Perhaps I’ll use it to frame you, you’re no doubt wondering. It’s possible, I might do that. So why should you help me? Why should you help a tyrant like myself? Why should you help a tyrant, even if this tyrant has done more for the people than you ever have?”

“There’s no reason at all.”

“True. Except for punishment. Every time you don’t help me, every time you hold something back, I will hurt one of them. Every time, it will get worse. And every time, you will see the results. Do you want to see Roy have every bone in his body broken? Do you want to hear Mia being raped?

“I somehow doubt it. But, I am a man of my word- tell me what I wish to know, and they will come to no harm.”

Nightwing stood, looked down on his captive.

“The others will do nothing- they think you’re already dead. They would not help you anyway, so I suppose I am doing you a favour…”

He walked to the door, speaking as he went, “I will give you some time to think about it. I am not a cruel man by nature, but I know this is a cruel world, and one must be willing to fight with every weapon at your disposal.”

The door opened, and he stepped through, his footsteps ringing on the cold tiles.

A voice, no more than a whisper, spoke.

“Why?”

He turned, framed in the doorway. Little more than a silhouette, a shadow blocking the light.

As the door closed, he uttered the words that revealed to Connor that there was nothing he could do any more. That there was no hope for him or the other two. There was nothing more he could do.

“A reason, is that it? Is that what you wish to hear? Then there is only one I can think of; because we are the Jotnar.”