Terry laid on the long, black hover bike, with a red trim, a pair of energy cannons mounted on the front, wheel-like extension, his arms stretched out in front of him, a pair of black, metal protrusions covering his fore arms, while his legs went down around halfway down the bike, bent at the knee, with his feet flat on a pair of vertically mounted metal parts, just ahead of the back wheel-like protrusion. He disliked the design, but apparently it was based on one Bruce had used years before, and it worked. At least, until the Batmobile was repaired. It had been two and a half weeks since Damian Al Ghul, Bruce's son and the latest Red Hood, had destroyed the Batmobile during their conflict in the batcave.
Of course, that wasn't at the forefront of Terry's mind. That was on a wholly different thing. When he'd received the call from Melanie Walker, AKA Ten, formally of the Royal Flush gang, she'd clearly been distressed. Since then, he'd checked into things; so far as his information went, her parents were still in prison, and her brother was off the grid. But then, so was she. If she'd just reach out to him, talk to him – either as Terry McGinnis or as Batman, then maybe he could help her. As it was, it just bothered him.
"You seem distracted." The voice of Maxine Gibson, his best friend and confident, came through the comm. system "Something you need to get off your chest?"
"No, just thinking." Terry lied, before chuckling half-heartedly "I still can't believe Bruce let you work that end of the computer."
"He didn't have much of a choice, with Mr. Drake coming up to see him this evening." Max said, being met with silence "You still don't totally trust him, do you?"
"Of course I trust Bruce." Terry said, knowing who Max meant but deciding to evade her question "Listen Max, no offence, but I'm not in the mood for a chat right now, even if it is-"
"Hold that thought." Max cut him off "I'm seeing an alarm triggered in… The Neo-Gotham museum."
"On my way." Terry said, pulling up, taking his bike vertical before shooting off in the direction of the museum.
Jocko, also known as 'J-man' moved through the museum with his crowbar, smashing the different exhibits. He always was a lover of art. Especially when it was in pieces. He and the rest of his little group of Jokerz were interested only in the specific items they'd been sent to get. The rest were fair game. They wouldn't be able to shift them on the black market, but they may as well have some fun.
As Jocko rounded a corner, he was surprised at what he found; Spike, one of the other guys with him, sprawled out on the floor, out cold, a few of his trade mark pies on the floor beside him. Next to his body was a bladed throwing weapon, similar to the ones he'd seen Batman use a million times, only with a blue trim instead of a red one, the top ending in a single point, instead of the two that Batman's had. Probably just decided to change the look of them.
He pressed a control on the phone he had on his wrist, calling one of thee other guys in the museum.
"Heads up Scab, the Bat's in here somewhere." Jocko said "He's already got Spike."
"Thanks little buddy." Scab's voice came through the phone "I see that freak, I'm skinning him alive, after he got me sent down to Arkham last year."
"Save some for me." Jocko said, hanging up.
As he did, the lights in the hall he was in went out, one by one. He hesitated for a second before pulling the laser pistol on his belt out, holding it out in front of him. A second later, he felt a sharp pain as something impacted his hand, , causing him to drop the pistol, which fired off a shot as it hit the floor, the shot hitting his leg, causing him to fall to the ground.
Jocko began to try and pull himself along the ground, hoping against hope that the lights would kick back in. After a second, his hopes were answered by the lights re-activating. He looked up at the figure above him and began half laughing, half screaming.
Stood over him was a female figure, standing around five foot-ten, her height being augmented by the one inch heels on her boots. She wore a skin-tight, black bodysuit that covered her from head to toe, the white lenses over her eyes and her mouth being all that was visible. On her chest was a blue, bird-like emblem, with the wings stretching onto and over her shoulders, going down her arms and ending on her two middle fingers. On her waist was a blue belt with a number of silver pockets on it, as well as a round, silver buckle with a blue light in the centre of it.
"Hey sweetheart, isn't it early for Halloween?" He said, laughing "Then again, guys like me, we always were fans of very long Halloweens."
"Funny." The woman said, reaching into the compartments on the left and right sides of her belt with the respective hands, pulling out a pair of knuckle-dusters, each one glowing with a blue electric charge "Now, are you going to tell me what you and your punks are doing here, or are we going to have some fun?"
"Ooh, into S&M, are we?" Jocko said, laughing more "Seriously, sweetheart, the whole Batman-wannabe thing, it's not doing it for me."
"What about the real deal?" A voice came from the shadows, right before a large black and red mass crashed into the woman knocking her to the floor.
Jocko didn't waste any time, scrambling to get up and limp away at the sight of the second figure; Batman.
"Who are you?" Terry asked the woman, narrowing his eyes and doing his best to ignore her formfitting outfit.
"Me? Little old me?" She asked, her tone slightly mocking and slightly flirtatious "Doesn't the suit tell you anything?"
"Aside from you're ripping off my look, no." Terry retorted "I mean, it looks like a take on someone else I used to know but-"
"Cut the crap, we both know you're no more the original Batman than I am the original Nightwing." The woman cut him off, walking over to him and beginning to walk around him slowly, trailing one finger across his chest and around him as she did "Still, you're not bad, I suppose. I expected someone taller though."
Terry was slightly taken aback. She was trying to get under his skin and, if he wasn't in a bad mood, it might be working. Fortunately, he was in a very bad mood.
"I'm going to ask one more time." He said, spinning to face her and grabbing her wrist, catching the other as she tried to swing for his head "Who. Are. You?"
"Nightwing." She said, before kneeing him in the crotch, causing his grip on her to slacken as he sank to the floor while she turned to look around before punching the air "Great, see what you did? You let him get away."
"Jokerz are small fries. I'll get him later." Terry groaned, slowly standing up as he caught his second wind "If he were the original, I'd say otherwise, but he's not. As for you, this is my town. I don't want to see you again. Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it. You don't like competition." She said flirtatiously, before moving to the shadows, engaging a cloaking device similar to the one Terry's own suit had, blocking her from his vision.
Terry groaned as he leant on the wall. Where did these people come from? Actually, he knew that one; Batman attracted whackos, always had. However, the coincidence couldn't be ignored; Melanie came back to town and then this woman in a Nightwing costume showed up. Maybe it was time Terry McGinnis returned her call.
Right, so this is chapter one of part two of my "Vengeance Trilogy." I'm going to go ahead and point out that all three of the Jokerz in this chapter appeared in the series; Jocko is a name I gave to J-Man, the one who was the spitting image of the Joker in the pilot, in the group that Terry fought when he first met Bruce. Scab, who Jocko spoke to on the phone here, was the one Terry fought on the bus / train thing in "Rebirth, part one" who, among other things, later stole the Batmobile. Finally, Spike is one of the others who appeared as part of their gang, who extorted people by threatening them with throwing pies in their faces, as well as having pies with chemicals that could eat through walls. I considered having him having been hit by one of his own pies, but the only way to avoid that being laughable would also make Nightwing a murderer, which I didn't want to do.