Tales From Earth E: The Brave and the Bold



Part 1

Father Martin loved the solitude of St. Bartholomew's Cathedral at night. While he counted it a privilege to minister unto God's flock, he relished these late hours when it was just he and the Lord. From as far back as he could remember he had believed that God kept watch over his children; it was a belief that he had found comfort in many, many times. On this night, however, there was a set of eyes watching him that did not belong to God.



The man who called himself Nightwing perched precariously on the shadow-bathed balcony with the confidence born from years as a circus acrobat. For the past half-hour he had watched the priest below, questioning why he had even come to this place.



He had never professed to being a religious man, and then after what had happened to his family, he had wondered if there even was a God. If there was a God, then why had He allowed things to happen the way they did? What kind of God would allow a man like "Boss" Zucco to kill his young son and then walk free? If not for the mask he now wore, John Grayson would have not seen justice done. It was during his pursuit of justice that his wife left him; what kind of God would allow that?



For all of his anger-filled questions, however, Nightwing always seemed to be drawn to a church. After coercing Zucco to confess in Gotham, he had ended up in a church; when he took down the psychotic twins who called themselves "Tweedledee" and "Tweedledum" in Opal City, he sought rest in a synagogue. Now, here he was again, seeking rest after apprehending a villain who chose to call himself the Count Vertigo.



The theological questions retreated to the back of his mind as he began to wonder where he would go next. Star City didn't seem like a bad place, but there was too much circus blood flowing through his veins; he would never be content staying in one place for very long. Maybe he would visit Metropolis.



Turning his attention back to the priest, he watched the man stop in front of a statue of Mother Mary and wipe the smudges from her sandaled feet. It seemed to bring the man a peace, doing this for the Blessed Virgin without asking for something in return.



When the priest was finally gone, Nightwing shifted his attention to the large cross bearing the crucified body of Christ hanging on the wall. You offer peace. Perhaps one day I shall find what you offer for myself.



Nightwing dropped lightly from the rail and quietly walked through the dimly lit third story hallway until he returned to the window by which he entered. Without a backward glance, he climbed out the window and swung away into the night.







Part 2

If the shattering of glass awakened anyone, they chose not to investigate. Most simply turned over and tried to go back to sleep. This area of Metropolis was known as "The Suicide Slum", and the rule of thumb here was "if it ain't happening in your apartment, it's none of your business".



In the moonlit hallway of the abandoned tenement's top floor, a young woman lay crumpled among the broken glass. It was several minutes before she struggled to her hands and knees, her lings burning as she tried to get her breath.



Only when her breathing became steadier and less laborious did she try to stand. Leaning against a graffiti-decorated wall, she slowly made her way down the hallway until she found a door standing slightly ajar. Despite her rather noisy entrance, the young woman was cautious as she opened the door and entered the apartment, shutting the door behind her.



Illuminated by the light of the moon, she was surprised to find that the place, beyond the graffiti, was fairly clean. It was probably close to the way the previous tenants left it when the landlord evicted them for not paying the highly inflated rent. It was obvious that someone had claimed the deserted apartment as his or her own, but, at the moment, she didn't care.



Off to the left, she saw a short hallway containing two doors, a bedroom and a bathroom, she guessed. She walked to the first door and opened it; the bathroom. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. What she found inside caught her slightly by surprise and confirmed her suspicions about the apartment being occupied. On the sink she discovered a candle and a box of matches. Removing a match, she struck it and lit the candle. She turned around and found a tub filled with water. She turned the tap to the sink on and got nothing. As she began to wonder how the tub came to be filled, she noticed a hole in the ceiling above it. It was fixed with a small trap door that, when opened, allowed direct access to the roof.



Pretty smart, she thought. Open it up when it rains, and viola, fresh water.



Turning her attention to a mirror hanging on the wall, she saw how disheveled her appearance was. Her long blonde hair was matted with filth and plastered to her head, and the rest of her body was just as filthy, not surprising considering how far she had flown and how rough her landing had been. Her costume, however, had held up incredibly well. Aside from the sweat and grime, it had come through the crash unscathed; too bad she couldn't say the same about her exposed skin.



Glancing around, she found an old child's pail in the floor and dipped it into the tub. Pouring the water into the sink, she began to strip out of her costume. First she sat on the edge of the tub and removed a pair of black calf-high boots. She remained seated for a few seconds before standing back up and continuing to undress. Reaching up, she began to untie the string that kept her costume, what resembled a modified black bodysuit with voluminous long sleeves, together. Lastly, she slipped her arms out of a harness that kept a large pair of black wings secured to her back and gently lowered them to the ground, and finished peeling her costume off.



The young woman wasted no time in beginning to scrub the dirt from her body. Once she was fairly clean, she saw that most of the cuts she received when she crashed through the window were little more than scratches.



Letting the water out of the sink, she replaced the stopper and drew another pail of water from the tub. Leaning over the sink, she poured the water over her head and tried to wash her hair as best as she could. When she was finally satisfied, she let the water out a second time and refilled the pail once more. With the exception of her wings, she began to wash her costume. Once she had finished that, she hung it and her wings on the back of the door. Beneath the sink, she found some towels, probably taken from someone's line. She wrapped one around her head and one around her body.



Quietly, she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hall. Moving to the other door, she gently turned the knob and pushed it open. When she saw it was empty, she stepped inside and looked around. This room, too, allowed enough moonlight for her to see her surroundings. Aside from the bed with an actual sheet and blanket, both probably stolen, the thing that caught her attention was the graffiti on the wall. Whoever had claimed this apartment definitely had talent and imagination. A mural of a large hawk being pursued by a robin through an evening sky filled the wall opposite the bed. She searched for a signature but found only a stylized "R" in the lower left-hand corner.



Finally, she turned her attention to the bed. Letting her towel fall to the floor, she climbed beneath the blanket and soon drifted off to sleep. It wasn't long before the dreams came.





Part 3

There is a mist before her eyes. It distorts her dream-sight and partially obscures what she is certain is a memory from her early life.



Two blonde-haired little girls, one dressed in silver, the other in gold, are playing in the yard. Nearby, a couple is sitting on a stoop holding hands. The girls wave to the couple; the couple waves back.



Another man is now standing in the yard; his skin and clothing are the color of ash. The couple stands and begins walking towards the Gray Man.



There is thunder.



Flowers of crimson blossom from the center of the couple's foreheads; petals of red fall to the ground.



The couple fades.



The girls cry and the mist shatters.



The girls are older now: they look like their mother. They are still dressed in silver and gold, but now wings are growing from between their shoulder blades.



They stand before the man who raised them, but is not their father. This man took their names from them and gave them new ones. Once, she was Valerie Lance, now she is the Silver Swan. Her sister, Dinah, is now the Golden Canary.



The man, his name is Armbruster, tells them it is time for them to fly. He offers them the man who took their parents from them. All he asks for in return is the Gray Man's head.



Birds of prey. These are Armbruster's words, and they seem to drown out even the rushing wind as the sisters wing their way through the late-evening Boston sky.



In her dreams she sees no other landmarks save the place where the Gray Man resides. She screams and every window in the building shatters. Flying through one of the larger openings, the sisters enter.



Inside, the Gray Man is patiently waiting. He knows that they have come to kill him, to bring retribution for the sins of his past. He sees that they are about to strike and holds up his hands seeking a stay of execution. In return for his life, he offers the name of the one who hired him.



The sisters talk it over and, against Dinah's desire to do otherwise, they reluctantly agree.



The Gray Man is smug when he smiles. It will be his undoing. He produces the evidence to support his claim as he tells them that Armbruster was the one.



Dinah, the Golden Canary, in her rage unleashes the full force of her cry in a tightly focused blast directly at the Gray Man. In an instant, his entire body is liquefied. He doesn't have time to scream.



The Silver Swan is only a half a second behind her sister as they leave the building. Her destination is obvious, Dinah is going to kill Armbruster.



The dreamer knows what is going to happen next. She calls out for her sister to stop, but the words have no sound.



They are now standing before Armbruster. He pushes a button and gas begins to fill the room.



Dinah realizes, too late, she had brought her sister and herself to the brink of destruction. She screams and blasts a hole in the wall. The room shudders and begins to collapse. Not wanting to see her sister pay for her mistake, Dinah pushes her through the hole just as the ceiling collapses.



Valerie hears Armbruster's mocking laughter echo through her dreams. He still lives, and now he is coming for her. Although she sees no one, Valerie can feel his nearness. A hand touches her shoulder and she screams.



* * * * *



Valerie bolted upright in bed, her body drenched in sweat. As she ran her fingers through her tangled hair, she heard a low moan from the foot of the bed. Her eyes were drawn to the far wall; something had slammed into it with enough force to damage the sheet-rock.



"Oh, no," she whispered. Leaning towards the foot of the bed, she saw a crumpled form lying in the floor.



Forgetting her nakedness, she scrambled out of bed and rushed to see how bad the person was injured. Turning him over, she discovered that it was a dark-haired boy of about fifteen years.



His eyes opened for just a second, just long enough to see the naked blonde bending over him. "Whoa," he said weakly and slipped back into unconsciousness.





Part 4

Dawn was just a couple hours away when John Grayson arrived in Metropolis. It took very little effort for him to avoid the security guards in the railroad yard and make his way into the city. He knew he needed to find a place to stay, but he couldn't resist the urge to go on patrol.



It hadn't been too long ago that someone calling himself "The Flash" had apprehended three members of the Ice Pack; that meant their leader, Mr. Freeze, was still on the loose. Obviously, this new hero hadn't done his homework.



Before leaving Star City, John had acquired a map of Metropolis and, once he had located a street sign, had no trouble determining where he was. As was the trend in most big cities, the train yard was adjacent to the worst part of town; in Metropolis, it was the area known as Suicide Slum. By the name alone, John knew it wouldn't be very long before he found trouble.



Without realizing what he was doing, his mind noted the location of several small places of worship. Even here in the Slum, some of the people tried to keep some kind of faith that things would eventually get better.



After slipping into a shadow-filled alley, John began to remove his outer clothing, revealing his costume beneath, and placing it in his duffel bag. Next he began pulling accessories from his bag and putting them in place. Around his waist, he fastened a belt with the silhouette of a bird of prey on the buckle. Gloves came next, which he laid on the lid of a dumpster, and a pair of boots. After slipping on the boots, he pulled on the gloves. A collapsible bo-staff was drawn from the bag and placed securely into a specially designed holster. Finally, he pulled out his mask and covered his true identity.



Shouldering his duffel bag, Nightwing found a fire escape and quickly made his way to the rooftops. Just as he suspected, it wasn't long before the vigilante discovered a need for his abilities.



Jamie Hildebrand wanted out of the Slum, and she decided that competing in the Olympics would be a way to achieve that. She was up by 4:00 AM every morning and out the door for her daily jog. She knew she was fast, living in the Slum had made certain of that, but she had to work on her ability to last in a long run. The young woman had been fortunate enough to scrape up the money to run in the Gotham Marathon once, and it showed her that she still had a long way to go before she could make the American team at the Games.



This morning, however, Jamie learned that when you had no place to go, speed was of no help at all.



Three young men wearing black, hooded sweatshirts and sunglasses to hide their identities came rushing out from in front of a parked car. Their attack was well planned.



Before she could react, Jamie felt a hand clamp tightly over her mouth and she was swept off her feet and carried into a dark alley. She attempted to fight back, but her attackers held her arms and legs. The hand was removed just long enough for a piece of duct tape to take its place.



"Ooh, T., this is gonna be sweet."



"I like my women athletic, G."



The third young man, his voice a bit deeper than those of he buddies, spoke. "Just remember, boys, I get her first."



"Uh, yeah," T. said, "we know. B's always first."



The young woman's eyes widened in fear as she realized what her attackers' intentions were. Her tears began to flow and her struggles became frenzied, so much so that the three men almost dropped her.



"You do realize that you have gone beyond the point of walking away from this, don't you?"



The three men let Jamie fall roughly to the alley and looked around. The voice was completely unexpected and therefore they had no idea from where it had come.



The one calling himself "B" spoke. "Don't know who you are, or who you think you are, but you'd best get to steppin' if you know what's good for you."



"Like I said, this has gone beyond just walking away."



"I think I see something," T. said pointing towards the alley opening.



"You don't even have a clue where I'm at," the voice said.



There was a noise from deeper in the alley's darkness. All three of the girl's attackers spun in that direction. G. took a step forward.



"Listen, motherfu..."



Before he could finish what he started to say, G. heard a click and felt a sharp pain in his mouth. Several teeth shattered as a metal-tipped bo-staff shot from the darkness. G. fell to his knees, blood pouring from the edges of his mouth.



"You really need to watch the language, especially when there are ladies present."



Nightwing stepped from the shadows. Mercilessly, he jerked his bo-staff from G's mouth. A quick kick sent the punk tumbling backwards and into unconsciousness.



The two remaining attackers were stunned as the masked man pushed past them and knelt down beside the girl.



"Are you okay?" he asked her.



Jamie nodded.



Aside from catching B. and T. off guard, Nightwing's bold action placed him between them and the girl. She felt safe enough to sit up and remove the duct tape from her mouth.



"Thank you," she whispered.



"Go," Nightwing told her without taking his eyes from the two men before him. "Return to your home and call the police."



Jamie started to leave, but a shudder ran through her body when her savior gave her final instructions.



"Tell them they will definitely need to send an ambulance."



Before she reached the end of the alley, the girl heard a sudden movement behind her followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground. Jamie risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the costumed man now facing only one opponent. Then, she ran.



"Tell me, B., wasn't it, how does it feel to know you are only seconds away from an extended hospital stay?"



Nightwing rarely felt the urge to torment his opponents. This time, however, he couldn't resist the urge. To him, what these men had intended to do to that young lady was a crime of the worst kind. Throughout the whole ordeal, she would know the pain, the fear, and the helplessness of what was in store for her; he thought it was only right that they know what that felt like.



B. pulled a knife from its hiding place in the back of his belt. "Come on, you son of a bi..."



Nightwing's fist moved with an almost unnatural speed and caught the man in the mouth. "What did I say about the language?"



B. had risen to a position of prominence in this section of town by being tougher than his peers. He had never taken any lip from anyone, and he had never backed down. Nevertheless, he was beginning to wish he were somewhere other than where he was. The man standing so nonchalant before him, dressed in a costume of midnight blue leather that made him hard to see clearly when he stepped into the shadows, was unlike anyone he had ever faced.



"You're a smart man," Nightwing said, "so I want to give you something to think about while you are in the hospital. I know that you have a pretty good chance of doing very little jail-time. When you get out, think about turning over a new leaf. Use your abilities to become a protector, not a predator."



B. felt his anger rise. How dare this man threaten him and then tell him what to do. With a bestial roar, he charged.



Nightwing leveled his bo-staff in front of him. His actions seemed almost lazy compared to his attacker's. Stepping to the side at just the right moment, he used the staff to push B. past him and headlong into a dumpster. The punk slammed into the thing with a loud crash. He spun around and faced the hero.



His opponent spun as well, using his added momentum to increase the force of his strike. There was a sickening crunch as Nightwing's weapon made contact with B's shoulder.



"That could have easily been your leg," the man told him in an emotionless voice. "Of course, if it would have been your leg, I would have been obligated to tie you up for the police and leave."



B. felt his stomach churn. "You should have...took out...the hand that held...the knife."



Again, emotionless. "No. I still want to pretend I have a reason to defend myself."



B. lunged forward, and Nightwing met the attack with a strike by his staff to the man's kneecap. Another crunch, and the man went down hard.



Nightwing stepped back and waited.



B. struggled to rise and received a kick in the ribs for his trouble. There was a snap and he went back down.



In the distance, the sound of sirens began to fill the early morning air. Nightwing knelt down beside the man. As he drew his fist back, he spoke one last time.



"Remember what I said."



When B. awoke later, he found himself strapped down to bed in an isolation ward at one of Metropolis' many hospitals. Despite himself, Ben Turner found himself thinking about what the masked man had said.







Part 5

It was only after moving the boy to the bed that Valerie remembered that she was naked. Since her costume was still damp, she searched through an old dresser in the corner and found a pair of gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. The fit was a tad snug, but it beat the alternative. Climbing gently onto the bed so as not to disturb the injured boy, she leaned against the wall and pulled her knees up to her chin.



"What happened?"



The words were barely loud enough to be considered a whisper, but they instantly roused Valerie from her slumber. The first rays of the morning sun were slipping in through the tatters of a ragged curtain allowing her to get her first good look at the boy.



Despite the fact that he had obviously been living on the streets for quite a while, his face was missing that haggard appearance that most in his situation wore.



A lump rose in Valerie's throat as she started to explain. "I...I...I'm so sorry," she cried as she buries her head in her hands and started to sob.



The boy winced and inhaled sharply as he sat up and put his hand on the girl's shoulder. "Don't cry," he said softly. "I know it was an accident."



Valerie wiped her eyes and looked at the boy. She could tell he was still in pain, but he still managed to give her a smile.



"That's better," he said. "I'm Robin. Er, I mean Jason, Jason Todd. Robin is my street name."



"I am Sil...no. I am Valerie Lance,' the girl replied.



"I saw some sort of costume in the bathroom," Jason told her. "That was right before I found you in my bed. Are you one of those superheroes that have been popping up recently?"



Valerie wasn't sure what he was talking about, so she shook her head no.



"Well, you probably could be," Jason grinned, "especially with that scream of yours. How do you do that?"



"It's just something my sister and I were born with."



"Where's your sister?" Jason asked.



"Dinah, my sister, is...is..." Valerie began to cry again.



The boy let her cry.



After several minutes, she began to regain her composure. Once she had her emotions under control, she told him about herself.



"So," Jason said once she finished speaking, "you think this Armbruster is after you."



"I'm sure of it," Valerie told him.



* * * * *



Several blocks away, a figure stepped to the edge of the shadows that still filled the alley, despite the rising of the sun. A gloved hand raised a small metal box, and the figure began to turn.



When the box was facing due east, a soft beep began to issue forth. The figure continued to turn and the beeping died away. Bringing the device back to due east, the beeping began again.



"Well, what do ya know?" the figure whispered. "I guess the boss knew what he was doing when he had that tracking device built into her costume. Hmm. Maybe I should check my own costume out."



Stepping from the alley, the figure pulled the collar of a black overcoat up and the bill of a black fedora down. Moving east, the figure whispered again.



"Well, Silver Swan, I hope you have a good breakfast, 'cause you'll be dead by lunch."







Part 6

"I still don't think you should be out of bed," Valerie said as Jason entered the kitchen.



"I'm sore," the boy replied, "but I dodged the biggest part of the blast."



Valerie's eyes widened in surprise.



"So, I took a look at your costume," Jason said, changing the subject. "If you were called "Silver Swan", why is it black?"



"Armbruster said it was to make it harder to see us at night."



Jason thought for a second, then shrugged. "Makes sense to me."



"Yeah, me too."



Jason and Valerie were startled by the strange voice. As they turned, a man in a hat, gloves, and overcoat was climbing through the living room window."



"We're six stories up," Jason whispered.



"Oh," the man said as he removed his outerwear to reveal the scaly flesh of a serpent beneath. "You can believe that you girlfriend has the power to level this building with her voice, but not that I can climb up the outside of it. That really hurts, kid."



"Armbruster sent you, didn't he?" Valerie asked, although she already knew the answer. "Well, I'm not going back."



"He don't want you back." The man's grin revealed a wicked-looking set of fangs. "He just wants you dead."



Valerie knew that it was useless to talk anymore, so she fell back on the only action available to her. She screamed.



"It's gonna take more than that to kill a copperhead," the man said as he dropped to the floor.



Valerie hoped there was no one on the ground below as the window, frame, and part of the wall shattered and dropped into the alley. Out one corner of her eye, she saw Jason moving as fast as his injuries would allow towards the bedroom.



"Looks like your boyfriend is deserting you," Copperhead said, suddenly standing in front of her.



Valerie stepped back, then brought her right leg up in a vicious kick aimed at her foe's head.



The move was not unexpected, however, and the snake-man caught her leg. With his own leg, he swept her left leg out from under her and drove her to the floor. Before she could recover from the surprise, Copperhead dropped on top of her.



"Just so you know," he whispered as he licked her cheek, "I'm gonna go into the bedroom and break every bone in your little boy-toy's body."



"Then I should probably go back in there and wait on you, huh?"



Copperhead looked up just in time to catch a homemade bo-staff across the bridge of the nose.



Valerie took advantage of the distraction and threw her attacker off of her.



"That's it!" Copperhead roared as he scrambled to his feet. "Playtime's over. First, I'm gonna snap this punk's spine, then, as he lies there watching, I'm gonna for things to you that'll make you beg for me to kill you, you stupid little bi..."



The assassin heard a sickening crunch, followed by an agonized scream, his own, then discovered that a shattered knee would not support his weight. As he hit the floor, he found himself staring up at a masked man dressed in black and midnight blue leather.



"Watch the language," the newcomer said. "There are children present."



Copperhead needed no one to tell him who this man was. He had heard through the criminal grapevine that if you weren't on the side of the angels, the name Nightwing was synonymous with pain. "This...ain't...none...of... your...bizness," the villain said through gritted teeth.



He didn't know why he said it, but Nightwing replied, "These children are now under my protection."



Valerie and Jason weren't sure they liked being referred to as children, but, as long as this man kept Copperhead down, they said nothing.



As quick s his namesake, Copperhead suddenly struck at Nightwing in an attempt to bite him. Unfortunately, he had underestimated the man's speed.



Nightwing brought his foot down on the side of Copperhead's neck, just below the jaw line, and pinned him to the ground. "Those look nasty," he said as he tapped the man's fangs with the tip of his own bo-staff. With a flick of his wrist that held more power than expected, he dislodged the teeth (as well as several of those surrounding them). "Don't worry," Nightwing quipped, " the prison has a good dentist."



Copperhead wasn't the smartest man alive, but he realized that if he surrendered now, he would save himself a lot of pain. He would eventually heal, and then there would be a time for payback.







Epilogue

Nightwing had stayed out of sight while the police, who were attracted by the sound of the fight, arrived and collected Copperhead. Once they had made their inquiries and left, he returned to the living room to find out what had brought on the attack. Valerie told him the whole story.



"You two seemed to handle yourselves fairly well," he told them, "but, you have a lot of room for improvement."



"What makes you think you could do any better?" Jason asked.



Before he knew what had happened, he and Valerie both were subdued and bound, and Nightwing hadn't even broke a sweat.



"Okay," Jason said, "I'm convinced."



"I don't think Armbruster is through with you," Nightwing told Valerie. "If you will allow me, I will give you the training to help keep you alive. I'll even help you take him down."



The girl thought for a minute, then agreed.



"What about me?" Jason asked. "I want to help, too."



"If you think you can keep up, I'll give you a chance. Just remember, this isn't a game."



"So," Jason said. "I need a codename. If you are Nightwing, and she is Silver Swan, then I will call myself..."



"No, Robin," Valerie said. "I will not be Silver Swan. That's the name Armbruster gave me. From now on, I am the Black Canary, in honor of my sister."



"What did she call you?" Nightwing asked.



"Robin," Jason replied.



"What's wrong with that name?"



Jason thought for a second. "Nothing, I guess."



Valerie balled up her fist in anger. "Nightwing, Robin, and Black Canary. Look out, Armbruster. There are new birds of prey, and they are coming for you."