New Story: A Necessary Evil (Batman/Nightwing) Part 2
JM
met on the field of some new battle, these moments of uncomfortable silence
would descend on them. But this time it was different.
Nightwing hadn't been to Batman's secret lab in more than a year. An overly
cautious hero had decided to spread his facilities around Gotham, fearing a
single discovery of the Batcave would cripple his crime-fighting empire. This
lab, complete with testing rooms, storage vaults and a vast array of tools and
instruments, was state-of-the-art, but you would never know that from the
outside of what appeared to be just another massive holding hanger for Wayne
Industries.
Somebody say something, he thought to himself.
After his full-body security scan, Nightwing had entered the main lab office,
finding Batman standing by the only window, his back to the door. Off to the
man's right, a young doctor, a stranger to Nightwing, stood in his
standard-issue white lab coat, arms crossed, staring at the younger hero as he
entered.
Batman made no attempt at eye contact. You could at least turn the fuck around,
thought Nightwing.
"Ok, I'll bite. Care to tell me why I'm here?" Nightwing's voice shattered the
silence.
The doctor seemed to snap out of his trance, and advanced toward him, right hand
extended. "Nightwing, I'm Dr. Tanner. Thank you for coming." His hand was
firm, his grip strong. "I apologize for the short notice, but Batman thought it
best we get to this without delay."
Nightwing raised an eyebrow before turning back to Batman. "Right. Seems like
he's lost his ability to speak. Is that what you need me for?"
With that, Batman turned on one powerful leg, and crossed his arms. Still no
eye contact, what is that about? He spoke in a low, deliberate voice. "Thank
you for responding. I ? we ? have something that you need to know about. The
sooner, the better. It will not take long. But you can't leave until we've
finished, alright?" His eyes fixed on a point just in front of Nightwing's
boots.
Can't leave. Still giving orders, Nightwing thought. "I'll decide if this is
worth my time ? so why don't we stop acting like schoolgirls and get to the
point."
Another stupidly long silence. Then Dr. Tanner spoke, and Batman turned away
again, staring out the window.
"Very well. Perhaps you should see these first. This may put things in
perspective." He reached for a large manila envelope on small medical cart, and
passed it to Nightwing. "Photographs. Recent."
Nightwing locked eyes with the doctor as he opened the envelope clasp, and
pulled out a small stack of 5x7 photos. He looked down at the first photo, and
tried to understand what he was seeing.
A man in a business suit ? or what used to be a suit, anyway. He was slumped
over a heap of garbage, face down, his legs spread wide, face buried in the
trash. The man's pants were pulled down to his ankles, one Italian shoe still
on, the other missing from his left foot. I guess that's what "bare-assed
naked" looks like, the thought came to Nightwing suddenly. Indeed, the man's
full, muscular glutes were fully exposed, with what appeared to be marks on each
cheek.
Another photo. An athlete. No ? two athletes. Intertwined, arms and legs
wrapped around each other, inside of a dumpster. There track suits torn,
exposing chests, muscled arms and ? oh shit. Both men's genitals on full
display, still ? very hard. One pressed against the other.
Photo after photo. Men, partially dressed. All with their manhood fully erect,
some face down, plump asses to the camera, others ? face up, with a strange
smile fixed on their unconscious faces. Some young, some older, but all in
their own prime. Powerful, athletic, respected icons of their various
communities.
"What is this?" Nightwing finally asked, holding the photos tightly in his hand.
He glanced first at Batman, then the doctor.
"The disappearances have been kept out of the papers, at the request of the
police commissioner," Dr. Tanner explained. "Businessmen, college athletes,
prominent Gotham leaders ? all men, all disappearing in the last month. All
found, eventually, in various stages of delusion. Two of them ? dead, from
what appears to be massive coronaries."
"Why didn't you ask for some help with this?" asked Nightwing, directing that
clearly at Batman. "Are you worried you can't handle the work load?" He was
still cocky, still unaware of the depth of the danger Gotham was facing.
Dr. Tanner continued. "We haven't told you, or anyone, because we didn't know
what to make of this. Until two weeks ago."
He turned back to the medical cart, and pulled out a small vial from one of the
drawers. "This was found in the pocket of Mitch Brannigan, the venture
capitalist. And a message. Written -- well -- tattooed on the man's left
buttocks."
Nightwing paused, his eyes still locked on the back of Batman's head. "Saying?"
This time his former mentor spoke. "Drink me."