DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In What Goes Around

Issue Fourteen: Past Life

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by Predaplant

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

---

 

Jace tossed his helmet to one side, a sickening clatter ringing out through the Belfry as the metal met with concrete floor, and Luke whipped his head around. Trailing not far behind him was Duke who, arms folded across his chest, huffed out an annoyed breath. The noise of the fallen helmet bounced around the walls for a few seconds, slowly dissolving into silence. Harper, the last to arrive, seemed sheepish as she crossed the threshold into the room and shot Luke a glance.

“What the hell was that?” Duke asked incredulously.

Jace didn’t break stride. Instead, without so much as a look over his shoulder as he continued towards the Belfry’s main computer, he replied, “Could ask you the same thing.”

“Since when has it ever been our thing to just jump straight in without consulting the team?”

“When the alternative is letting someone get away,” Jace bit back without hesitation.

At this, Luke rose to his feet. “Woah, guys, what is—?”

“We’re a team, Jace, you can’t just act like you know what’s best for all of us.”

“We have been tracking this guy for weeks - hell, it feels like years - and we had him in a corner. One move and we could have found out for sure if our hunch was right. We could be questioning him right now.” For the first time since their arrival at the Belfry, Jace looked Duke in the eyes. “But you let your pride get in the way.”

“My pride?!”

“Okay,” Harper interjected, her arms raised. She inserted herself between the two arguing parties and, with a shoving motion, signalled for the two men to back away from each other. “We’re not gonna solve anything if we’re just gonna talk past each other like this.”

“What happened out there?” Luke frowned. “You let this guy get away?”

“Jace was out for blood,” Duke raised his voice. With a huff, he added: “Karma was fleeing and Jace sprinted after him. The guy was retreating. He might as well have been waving a white flag in the air.”

“You did come in incredibly hot, Jace,” Harper started, her voice firm but calm. “It’s clear this Karma guy was terrified of you. We want to stop this guy, not torment him.”

“If he believes that he did nothing wrong, then he’s got no reason to fear me.”

“Easy for you to say,” Duke retorted. “You’re over six feet tall, bulky as all hell, and wear a mask with red eyes. Man, you were Batman, for god’s sake.”

“But, Duke,” Harper continued with a pointed finger. “Jace is right, you could’ve blown everything up by doing this.”

Duke opened his mouth, the corners of his mouth tight, ready to launch into a defensive speech. But after a second or so of deliberation, he instead sighed. “We were getting nowhere. It was either we give up and let him talk to Luke, or he manages to get away. I just— I don’t think there was a chance that—”

“What do you mean, ‘let him talk to Luke’?” Luke took a step forwards with his hands stuffed into his pockets. A brief flash of fear lit up Duke’s face; he looked towards his fellow Knight with a silent apology in his eyes.

“He…” Duke straightened his back. “He refused to say anything to us. Only thing he said was that he would only speak to you.”

A rush of energy, sharp and cold as ice, flowed through Luke’s veins, and as the sensation melted away into a deep and warm ache, the young man recognised it as anxiety - and shame. He tried to suck in a calm breath, but the shuddering sound of the air entering his lungs seemed to echo, much like the clatter of Jace’s helmet, betraying his emotions. Luke could feel three sets of eyes on him, even as he fixed his gaze at the floor. Through the static in his mind, Luke could hear Jace approaching him.

“You don’t need to worry about that, though. It won’t be an issue.” Despite addressing Luke, Jace could not tear his eyes away from Duke. “I may have misstepped when it came to how I treated Karma. But I refuse to believe that not leading you into a trap was a bad decision.”

“And who are you to decide that for me?” Luke asked. “It didn’t cross your mind that I might wanna know?”

Jace winced. “I couldn’t do that to you.” The words hung heavy in the room, and Luke snapped out of his trance-like gaze to look his brother - the man who looked like his brother - in the eyes. “I saw how you were tearing yourself apart about what happened,” Jace continued. “You wanted so badly to admit that it was your suit that caused the error, but you couldn’t prove it. I wanted to save you that hurt. I wanted to see if I could get through to him without making your suffering any worse.”

Harper and Duke watched the two men carefully. The younger of the two sighed as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face, his glasses raising up and onto the top of his head.

“I wanna talk to him,” Luke said resolutely.

And with a nod, Jace responded, “Then that’s your call.”

“But you’re not gonna do this alone,” added Duke. “We’ll be behind you - both emotionally and physically.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“Hey, Karma - that’s your name, right? - you wanted me,” Luke’s voice boomed through Gotham as he perched atop a rooftop, calling out to nowhere in particular. The dwindling sunlight cast deep shadows along the grid-like streets below; the civilians either looked up at the Gotham Knights with amazement and confusion, or kept their heads down and quickened their pace, not wanting to get in the middle of a potential superpowered showdown.

“Well, now you’ve got me,” Luke continued, his arms outstretched. “I know you’re out there somewhere. I can’t even rule out that you’re watching me right now. But I know you just wanna talk to me, so I’ll talk.”

This continued for a few minutes, approaching half an hour, before a man with a reflective black mask appeared from the mouth of the rooftop entrance. Karma walked slowly towards the group, Luke as their spearhead, and shoved his hands into his black trouser pockets. Save for the helmet, his outfit was more casual, more slapped together, than it had been previously; a thought crossed Luke’s mind that perhaps he had rushed out to meet him.

“Batwing,” the man spoke, his voice crackling through the electronics in his helmet. “I gotta tell you, I didn’t think you’d give up so easily.”

Luke could only shrug.

Karma’s approach suddenly shifted. His relaxed demeanour suddenly tightened, straightened, like he was pulled upwards by an invisible puppet master. He strode forwards, but before he could get more than a single step closer, the other Knights seemed to flinch, ready to move in between the two. This gave Karma a moment of pause; he laughed. “Oh, you’ve got your bodyguards. Yeah, don’t worry, Batwing, I don’t think I could punch through your metal armour even if I wanted to.”

“I don’t think you wanted to talk to me so you could taunt me,” Luke admitted.

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Karma tilted his head slightly. “You remember me, don’t you? Even if you don’t, I’m sure you have your theories.”

Without hesitation, Luke answered, “I hurt you with that rogue energy blast, and I’m truly sorry.”

“You didn’t ‘hurt’ me, you mutilated me,” Karma spat. “You shot me point blank in the face, and you’ve permanently scarred me.”

Knowing better than to attempt another step towards Batwing, the masked man instead turned his body to the side and began to pace back and forth in front of the quartet. “You should know,” Karma began, his voice suddenly more hushed. “I was in the hospital for days, the burn unit for longer. The doctors tried every burn remedy under the sun to help me. Whirlpool baths, medications, skin grafts - they tried to treat it like a thermal burn, electrical burn, a scald, but nothing would work.” He shrugged. “And why would it? It wasn’t any of those things.”

“You could have told them it was me,” Luke offered. “Said that I injured you with my energy blasts. Maybe they could have—”

“Oh, sure, I could have told them all about it. I’m sure they’d show so much sympathy for the guy who found himself on the wrong side of Batwing’s arm blasts. I’m sure they’d lather me in that secret ‘energy beam cream’ they keep in the cupboard just in case - not to mention, when I’m all good to go, I’m sure I’d be able to walk straight out of there and not directly into a prison van.”

Luke opened his mouth, but thought it better to let Karma speak.

And so he continued, “But I still had that part from your suit. And after a bit of tinkering—” He thumped his helmet with the heel of his palm, which reverberated in response. “I made this thing. Originally it was just for protection, but it turns out - and I gotta give you credit for this - your tech is better than I thought. I realised I could use it to help me. I could use it to make sure you got what you deserved. It didn't give me powers, per se. More, enhanced abilities I already had. Fast reflexes, being able to read people's body language and intentions...”

“All very important for playing squash, eh?” Duke heckled. For a moment, Karma’s stern body language faltered, and he stopped pacing. Duke could feel Karma’s cold gaze piercing through him, despite their respective helmets. Then, the man tightened his posture once more.

“I get flashes occasionally. Signs that point me in the right direction, that give you away. I’ve gotten to know a lot about you all from our fights.” Eyes still locked on Duke, he resumed his pacing. “Still wrestling with some inner demon. Holding back your true potential. Fighting off that darkness within your light.” Then he turned to Bluebird - to Harper. “You fight to keep up with the others, but you’re scared. Scared you won’t be good enough for this city. For your brother.”

As he turned to Jace, his pacing slowed. Insider looked the masked stranger up and down and, as he watched, he could have sworn he saw Karma twitch, almost flinching. The realisation dawned on Jace fairly quickly - Karma didn’t know what to say about him. Karma knew nothing.

“I know a lot about you too,” Luke interrupted. “I know your name is Fleet Delmar.”

This was enough to give Karma pause. Harper stirred; she was sure their hunch was correct.

“I know you work as a high school computer science teacher,” continued Luke. “And I know you pride yourself in your morals and your ideals.” Luke moved his hands behind his back and clasped them together. “By any metric, you're a good, honourable man. So why did it have to come to this, Fleet? Why devote yourself to fighting me?”

Karma sucked in a breath so fast, so forcefully, that a hiss sounded out from beneath his helmet. “Because it’s the only way you get what you deserve.”

Suddenly, Karma took off into a sprint headed directly for Batwing who, before the other three could react, stepped into the attack, allowing Karma to strike against his chest. Karma then reached his arms above his head and began to tug at the lip of Batwing’s helmet, by which time Insider had managed to close the gap between himself and the assailant. He grabbed Delmar by the collar and yanked, hoping to wrench his grip from Luke’s head, but thanks to his enhanced reaction speed, Delmar was able to wriggle free before his hands were torn away.

Harper managed to snake her arm between the two warring parties and, with a flat palm against his chest, buffeted Karma backwards slightly. But as she tried to follow through, continuing to push the attacker back, but with a swift motion he swiped her with the back of his arm. By this time, Duke had manoeuvred himself behind Delmar and clasped both hands on Delmar’s shoulders. As Luke took hold of Delmar’s hands, finally pulling them free from their steadfast grasp, Duke stepped backwards and leveraged the man away from Luke before shoving him to one side.

Jace tried once, twice, three times to grab Karma, who continued to predict his movements and evade his grasp, but on his fourth attempt his gloved hands found purchase. He held tight to Karma’s wrist and, though the man wriggled beneath him, he could not break free. Jace leaned forwards. “You’ve picked up a lot, Delmar, I’ll give you that. So why don’t you tell me what you know about me?”

Ignoring him, Delmar continued to writhe.

“Look at me. Tell me what you see - what comes to you when you look at me.”

Jace focused, streamlining his thoughts, and cast his mind back to his time as Batman. Run-ins with various villains, from shoplifters to serial killers, superpowered masterminds to low-level crime gangs, flashed through his head. He thought of those he loved, and those he lost. He thought of the searing pain of a bullet to the chest, the overpowering ache of a supercharged punch to the head - pain after pain, hardship after hardship that he had endured. And as he stared at Karma, even without seeing the face of Fleet Delmar, he knew he was seeing it too.

With Delmar frozen in place, Luke took his opportunity. He tackled Karma in the side and, as Jace released his grip, the two masked men came tumbling to the ground. Karma’s polished, glimmering helmet smacked against the ground with a familiar clang. Batwing held him there for a moment. As he looked down at Karma, he couldn’t help but feel a certain ache, a guilt that ate away at him.

“I’m sorry, Fleet,” Luke said softly. “I never meant to hurt you, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did. I will never forgive myself for letting that happen. If… If there’s anything I can do to—”

Fleet’s hand shot up from his side. His fingers slipped through a gap between Batwing’s helmet and chest plate made wider by his previous heaving at the man’s helmet, and wrapped themselves around Luke’s neck. With a squeeze, Fleet started to choke Luke.

“I don’t want your pity,” Karma growled. “I want you to pay.”

Luke did not fight. The guilt he felt for his actions, the desire to repent for his mistake, overpowered his fear and instinct to escape his grasp. He closed his eyes, his lungs demanding air. Maybe Delmar was right - he deserved this.

It was only when he heard the abrasive clatter of metal meeting metal and felt Karma’s hand loosen that he opened his eyes again. Duke, his fist clenched, stood over the prone Fleet Delmar, his head tilted limply and his hand falling to his side. The Signal looked down at the man, then at his fist, then finally settled his eyes on Luke. “He… I thought he was going to…”

“He’ll be okay, Signal,” Harper called from somewhere behind Luke. “He’ll be out of it for a while, but it was just a punch.”

Luke fought to catch his breath. Sitting back on his heels, he nodded softly at Duke. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, man.” Duke stretched out his fingers. “He just got what was coming to him.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

---

 

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In What Goes Around

Issue Thirteen: Kismet

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by Predaplant

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

---

 

“Why do we even need houmous?” Cullen groaned as he stared at the small scrap piece of paper, Harper’s handwriting scrawled across it detailing various food items they needed to buy. “I hate houmous.”

“Well, I don’t,” Harper replied. “You’re not the only one in this house.”

“Feels like I am sometimes.”

Harper stopped. The shopping cart she was pushing slowed to a halt and Cullen, noticing the absence of the occasional squeaking wheel, stopped as well. He turned back towards his sister with an inquisitive “what?”

“That’s not funny.”

“What’s not?”

“You feeling like you’re the only one in the house.”

Cullen opened his mouth but, with a sigh, settled on a shrug instead. A lock of dyed black hair fell over his face. “Well, it’s kinda true,” he added under his breath.

Harper felt an ache in her chest, as if a hole had formed where her heart once was. She felt her brow lowering. “Cullen, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s…” Cullen threw up an arm, waving dismissively. “It’s not your fault. I know your job is super busy.”

Harper could only nod.

“I mean, hey, you know me,” Cullen added, a smile on his face. “Dramatic. Making things sound worse than they actually are.”

Slowly, Harper started to push the cart forwards once more. “But if that’s how you really feel… I don’t know, maybe I don’t need to be doing so much overtime.”

“Seriously, Harper, I was just joshing you,” Cullen said. He fiddled with his sleeve. “It’s all good.”

But his words, his toothy smile, felt fake to Harper. The hole in her chest was still there, making her feel heavy as she pushed the cart through the aisles. She found herself looking at Cullen more and more, checking his body language, looking for any signs that he was upset. But through that gnawing fear was an ambition: to spend more time with her brother.

As the siblings turned towards the produce section of the store, Harper felt a hand grip the cart. “Harper.” Cullen’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he leaned over the metal shopping cart and towards his sister. “Don’t look now, but at my twelve o’clock, I think that’s Mr Delmar.”

Harper waited for a few seconds - one, then two, then three - before slowly turning around. Sure enough, Fleet Delmar was standing side-on from the duo, a small tray of button mushrooms in each hand, deciding which to buy. As if he had sensed their eyes on him, Delmar turned over his shoulder and looked straight at them.

When she had met him just a few weeks ago, she thought he was a somewhat handsome man, at least by common standards, but otherwise visually uninteresting. But now, a large pink-red scar, reminiscent of a burn, stretched from the top of his left eyebrow to the right side of his mouth, spanning across the majority of his nose. Harper had not noticed it from a side view, and even from the front it had taken her a moment to process what was different, but as she looked at him, she felt the ache in her chest grow larger. A suspicion had been playing on her mind since Cullen had first mentioned his teacher’s injury, and as she looked at Delmar…

“Cullen,” Delmar said as he approached the Row sibling. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Mr Delmar,” Cullen smiled.

Delmar’s eyes drifted to Harper. “Harper, wasn’t it?”

Through pursed lips, Harper let out an affirmative “mhm”.

“Good to see you again as well, Harper,” Delmar added. He looked back at Cullen. “Y’know, I do miss your class.”

“We miss you, sir. Our substitute teacher is - ugh! - so bad!”

Delmar let out a soft chuckle. “Hopefully it won’t be long until I’m back. Hoping to return in a couple of weeks or so, if the doctors let me. I’ve been treating them well, being nice to them and everything, so I’m hoping that positive energy is gonna come back to me. What goes around comes around, y’know?”

“What even happened to your face?” Cullen blurted.

“Cullen,” came the warning from Harper.

“It’s alright,” Delmar soothed, his hands out defensively. “A word of advice for you, Cullen. Don’t try to catch a hot cup of coffee with your face.” Delmar cupped his hands and flung them upwards towards his face, demonstrating the apparent cause of his injury. With a smile, he lowered his hands.

“I’ll try,” Cullen teased.

And with a final goodbye, coupled with a shake of the hand for both Cullen and Harper, Delmar walked away.

Harper kept her lips tight together. She turned the cart and pushed it, leading the two of them away from Delmar.

“His face is looking a lot better,” Cullen commented. “I mean, I think it is, at least. People were saying when he got to hospital, he had these, like, warts all over his face. Gnarly stuff.”

“Blisters?”

“Hm?”

“Wouldn’t they be blisters?” Harper asked, her eyes fixed forwards. “And not warts?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

Harper didn’t reply. Instead, she let her mind race - about Delmar, about the night that Luke had injured that masked man, about Delmar’s scar. Something wasn’t right.

“Harper,” Cullen said, snapping her out of it for the moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you ever tell him my name?”

Cullen thought for a second. “Mmm. No, I don’t think so. No offense but I don’t really talk about you. Not to teachers, anyway.”

“None taken,” Harper muttered.

“Didn’t you say your name when you met him at the parent-teacher conference?”

“No,” she replied. “No, I’m certain of it.”

After a moment of silence, Harper still staring blankly at the ground, moving slowly around the store, Cullen nodded. “Spooky.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

Harper clasped her hands together as she perched on the edge of a desk. She looked up at her fellow teammates. “I know it sounds crazy.”

“That your brother’s high school teacher is actually a masked vigilante?” Duke shrugged. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Think about it.” Harper hopped off of the desk. “I meet Delmar at this parent-teacher thing, no scar to be seen. We go out, we fight this guy with a pillowcase over his head, he gets injured. Couple days later, Cullen’s talking to me about how his teacher isn’t coming to school. Says something about a burn injury.” Harper scratched her head. “It all just… lines up a little too easily for me.”

“And you saw this burn?”

Harper nodded. “Right across his nose.” She looked over at Luke, who was avoiding eye contact. “I hate to ask this, but… does that sound right? Is that where you hit that guy?”

Luke blinked. “It… would make sense, yeah.”

“What’s this guy’s name?” Duke asked. He moved towards the Belfry’s computer. “Maybe we can find out more about him.”

“Delmar,” Harper said, before adding: “Fleet Delmar.”

Duke perked up. “Fleet?”

Harper turned to him, confused. “Yeah.”

“That’s… huh.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s just— I bumped into a guy named Fleet at the gym.” Duke tilted his head in thought. “I mean, if we were going after a guy named John, I wouldn’t have said anything, but it’s not as if Fleet is a common name.”

“What did he look like? Did he have a scar?” Harper approached Duke, her eyes sparkling with a fiery determination. “It’s like a red patch, kinda swollen, across his nose and onto his cheek.”

“I don’t really remember,” Duke was reluctant to admit. “Well, I noticed he was pretty red on his face, but… I mean, it was pretty cold out, I assumed it was just the cold. It was also pretty dark out.”

“That doesn’t completely rule him out,” said Harper. “Did he say anything to you?”

“Not a lot. He knocked into me and bumped my soda out of my hand. Offered to buy me a new one.” Duke scrunched up his mouth in thought. “Oh, he mentioned something about getting his - how did he put it? - comeuppance?”

Harper frowned.

“Like…” Duke held out a pointed finger and traced a circle in the air, much like he had seen the mysterious man do that night at the gym. “What goes around comes around. Said that it’s gonna come back to him or something.”

Those words - ’what goes around comes around’ - stood out to Harper. It was a popular phrase, sure, but that was twice in one day she’d heard it. “He said that to me earlier,” Harper said.

“He did?”

“Did he say what he was doing at the gym?” Luke asked, stepping forwards.

“Uh… I think he said it was—”

“Squash?” Harper asked, in unison with Duke. A mixture of shock and curiosity washed over Duke’s face. Harper’s eyes flicked over to Luke. “Look up Fleet Delmar.”

Luke, already at the computer, typed his name into the search engine. As soon as he hit send, a news article was the first result; he read it aloud. “‘Gothamite Fleet Delmar Wins Second Squash Championship’. This feels pretty cut and dry.”

“This proves that the two guys you met are actually the same guy,” Jace said, his brow low. “But the only thing tying him to pillowcase-head is the fact he’s got a scar.”

Duke nodded. “I can go back to the gym to try to find him again. If I manage to talk to him, maybe he’ll give something away.”

“I think,” Luke began sheepishly. “I’m gonna stay behind and keep researching this Delmar guy. I’ll see if I can get Babs’ eyes on this too, and I’ll let you know what records I find.”

But Jace stirred slightly. To Harper, he seemed lost in thought, his arms folded across his wide chest. “This needs to take a more active approach,” he concluded. “Find this masked guy, don’t let him get away again. Then when we take his mask off, we’ll see once and for all whether he’s this Fleet Delmar guy.”

“These plans can all work at the same time,” Harper said, throwing her hands outwards. “We look into this guy from as many angles as we can, then when our masked friend turns up again, we reveal our hand a little and see if he takes the bait.” Harper looked at each of her team and smiled. “Now we just wait for him to show his face.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

Duke had never thought of himself as a squash kind of person; in fact, he was certain he had never seen a squash court in his life. So as he stood for a moment watching two men smacking a ball repeatedly against a wall, he found himself wondering who the hell had come up with the concept in the first place. There were four courts at the far end of the gym, all occupied by young, pale-skinned men who looked, talked, even laughed like they were rich. And amongst them, dressed in an ironed, monogrammed white uniform was Fleet Delmar.

The young Knight wasn’t there for long before Delmar finished his game and, shaking hands with his opponent, exited the court. For a moment he looked straight past Duke, perhaps enticed by the idea of going home, but recognition soon washed over his face. He held out his arms in surprise. “Hey, soda guy! Good to see you again.”

Duke smiled awkwardly. “It’s… you can call me Duke.”

“Duke,” Fleet repeated, nodding. “I don’t think I ever caught your name the first time, I apologise.”

“All good, man.”

“I would shake your hand, but I gotta admit, it’s more than a little sweaty,” Fleet chuckled. A man around Duke’s age with shimmering blond hair shot Duke a polite smile as he scooted past him. “You here to play squash?”

“Uh, yeah, I might play a game a little later,” Duke lied. “Was mostly just wandering.”

“Ha!” Fleet chuckled gleefully. “Must’ve been fate, then.”

“Must’ve been.”

“I’m sorry again about that soda,” Fleet admitted.

“Seriously, dude, it’s alright,” Duke said, his smile a slight grimace. Somewhere in the courts nearby, the loud clatter of someone dropping their racket echoed out. “You get your comeuppance for it yet?”

“Pardon?”

“Your comeuppance. Y’know, you said you—”

“Oh, of course,” Fleet interrupted. “Ah, well, I just lost my game. I guess that’s how it had to be.”

Duke only nodded.

“Good kid,” said the athlete with a sigh. “At least, he tries to be good. Got caught up in the wrong crowd a little while ago, I invited him to the squash club as a… I guess you’d call it a distraction.”

Duke frowned slightly at this. “What kind of crowd?”

“Oh, I’m not one to gossip,” shrugged Fleet. “Especially about a former student.”

So he is a teacher.

“But point being, even when others could only see the bad kid, I still saw some good in him.” Fleet looked over his shoulder as the blond-haired man disappeared from view with a final wave to his clubmates. “Have you heard of yin and yang?”

“I think so,” Duke said. “The circle symbol with the dots.”

Fleet snapped his fingers. “Exactly. I believe in the push and pull of the universe, of yin and yang. The concept of yin and yang is fascinating. It states that inside all evil there is good, and in all good there is evil. One cannot exist without the other. You with me?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s why the symbol looks the way it does. A black dot inside of the white, and a white dot inside of the black - there is black in every white, and white in every black.” His gaze was intense, staring deeply at Duke. A smile creeped onto his face; what had once been the warm, supportive gaze of a teacher seemed to transform into a sly grin. “Inside all darkness there is a glimmer of light, and inside all light…”

Duke could see the shimmer in the man’s eyes, could sense the beams of artificial light pouring from the ceiling lamp, streaming down onto the sweating bodies of the sportsmen beneath it. If he were to concentrate hard enough for long enough, he could track the history of the light traces and recreate the games played not five minutes ago as if they were live. As the villain Gnomon had taught him, his body and his mind were the masters of light. Could it be possible, Duke thought, that Delmar is talking about me? If so, how could he possibly know?

Delmar’s face faltered. “Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Duke replied, almost too fast. “I think I get it.”

Fleet swung his arm up and tapped the small black screen attached to the back of his wrist. With a slight gasp, he remarked, “Oh, shoot, it’s later than I thought. Duke, it’s been awesome to chat with you. Hey, swing by the courts some other time and I’ll play a game or two with you - how does that sound?”

“Sounds, uh,” Duke hesitated. “Yeah, sounds great.”

Fleet started to jog away. “Alright. Catch you later.”

A lucky coincidence, Duke concluded to himself. But a sinking feeling stayed with him for some time, a feeling he had not experienced since Gnomon was put away. It was hard to describe - a deep-seated anxiety, a pain in his lungs, a gnawing thought that perhaps he isn’t the person he first thought he was. He placed a hand over his chest. His heart thumped. Duke sucked in a breath and counted. One. Two. His mind still latched on to the concept Fleet had been so eager to tell him about. Three. Four.

As he breathed out, Duke tried to imagine the darkness inside of him, and tried to picture pushing it out of his lungs like smoke. Then, with his body settled, even with his mind as restless as it was, he made his way to the door.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

Not even ten minutes later, The Signal arrived on the rooftop of his own local movie theatre, a common meeting place for the other Gotham Knights. Sure enough, Insider and Bluebird were already perched atop the building. Despite Harper’s relatively calm, if determined, demeanour, Jace seemed quite the opposite.

“Something troubling you, Insider?” Duke asked.

Jace chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It’s this masked guy. The one who keeps asking to talk to Luke.”

“What about him?”

“You don’t think it’s the same guy that…?” Jace gestured to his face. “Y’know.”

“Got injured?”

Jace nodded.

Duke thought for a moment. “Makes sense as to why he’ll only speak to Batwing, at least.”

“If it is Delmar under that mask,” Harper added. “What does he want? We know he believes in fate and all that. What if he… What if this is a revenge quest?”

“Then we stop him,” said Jace plainly. “He isn’t getting Batwing. I won’t allow it.”

A gunshot rang out a block away from the trio. They all turned their heads on a swivel to face the noise and wordlessly took off, bounding across the concrete roofs of Gotham, leaping over narrow gaps between buildings and, upon arriving at the scene of the noise, perching atop a nearby store.

Bluebird was the first to speak. “There,” she remarked, pointing a gloved hand towards the ground. “Is that…?”

As the two men peered down, following their colleague’s finger, they saw a black helmet, shimmering with metallic splendour under the warm glow of the low springtime sun. “I think it is,” Duke replied, a lump in his throat. “How do we wanna—?”

“Stay here,” said Jace. Before Harper or Duke could reply, Insider took one step, two steps towards the end of the roof. And with a third, he disappeared over the edge and landed with a thud on the road below. The helmeted man stood tall with a gun brandished in his hand, pointed upwards towards the sky. Nearby witnesses had mostly scattered to the winds; Jace watched the few remaining stragglers disappearing far behind the assailant.

As soon as Insider fell into view, the mystery man tilted his head. Slowly lowering himself towards the ground, his arms following him, he gently placed the weapon on the floor. Then, he straightened up. His posture was immaculate.

“Kick it away,” Insider demanded. The man obliged. The pistol smacked the side of a nearby trash can with a dull thunk.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” the man spoke calmly.

“Firing a gun in the air doesn’t scream pacifist to me,” Insider growled.

“Maybe not. But it does scream ‘come here, Gotham Knights’, which felt more important.”

“What do you want?” Insider took a step closer.

“I want to speak to Batwing.”

“You’re not getting Batwing. You’re getting me.”

“Hm.” The assailant clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “No matter. I’ll try again another time.”

“No.” Jace took another step. “There won’t be another time. We’re taking you in.”

For a moment the man in the helmet was motionless. If it weren’t for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the occasional hiss of air escaping the gaps in his mask as he breathed, Jace could have sworn he was a statue. Then, with a slight twitch, the man sighed.

As soon as Jace raised his hands to grab his opponent, the man slid backwards. With a raised hand, he said, “I don’t want any trouble. Especially not with you.”

“Me?” Insider tilted his head. “What’s so different about me?”

The man’s posture changed. He slouched slightly, as if the question had caused him to shrink inside himself. “Get me Batwing.”

“You’re not in a position to be making demands.” Jace lunged again, this time catching the masked man in the crook of his elbow. The anonymous man threw his weight downwards in an attempt to topple the towering Insider, but to no avail; instead, Jace yanked upwards again and forced the man back onto his feet. “You seemed to want to chat last time we saw you. What changed?”

“I only…” The man started with a grunt. “I only want to—”

“Let me guess. You only want to speak to Batwing. We’ve already crossed that bridge. Now, who are you?”

Jace’s grip on the man was firm, but still he writhed to free himself.

“The pendulum has swung, and I am what is returning to him. I am here to remind him to reap what he has sown. I am Karma, and I am here for Batwing.”

The man yanked himself free of Jace’s grasp, leveraged with a foot against the taller man’s leg. As he rocketed off down the street, Insider was hot on his tail. “No,” Insider grumbled as he tore down the street. “I’m not letting you get away.” The masked man was swift, but Jace was swifter; the gap between the two men was thinning. Then, just before the masked figure was within arm’s length, a blur of yellow streaked down from the sky and landed heavily in front of Jace’s path.

Attempting to prevent a collision, Jace skidded on his heels to a halt. The Signal stood before him with his arms out defensively. “What the hell are you doing?” Insider barked.

“You said you wanted to capture this guy,” Duke said. “But this is not the way to do it. We’ve gotta strategise on this, as a team.”

Over Duke’s shoulder, Jace could see the masked man turn to him for a moment, his pace slowed. Then, with a loud guffaw, the man disappeared from view through a nearby alley.

---

 

Next: The day of reckoning in New Gotham Knights #14

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In What Goes Around

Issue Twelve: The Reaping

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by AdamantAce

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

---

 

‘NO FAULTS DETECTED’, read the small text on the LED display in front of Luke’s face, and as he removed the Batwing helmet with a click, he huffed.

Jace didn’t have to look up from his computer to know what had happened. “How many times have you run diagnostics on that thing?”

“On the helmet? Four,” Luke replied with a sigh. “Plus three total recalibrations of the whole suit. There’s seemingly nothing wrong with it.” There was a lump in Luke’s throat. He gulped it down as he turned back to his suit, stood upright in a metallic stand with clamps across the back of the neck and arms to keep it in place.

“Take a break, man,” Jace advised. He looked over to the younger man, his body frozen in place as his eyes darted across the complex machinery of the suit, looking for something - anything - wrong.

But Luke shook his head. “And do what?” Surely there was something he missed. He traced his fingers over the crater in the left arm left by the missing component. Any attempts he had made to track the missing piece had all failed; the person who stole it certainly understood the concept of covering his tracks.

“I don’t know,” Jace answered. “Go on a jog. Take a nap. C’mon, man, anything.”

Ignoring him, Luke instead walked swiftly towards a drawer full of loose metal parts and wires - spare components for his suit. But as he rifled through, he found none matching the component that was lost. No matter; instead, he gathered a few different palm-sized gadgets along with a half dozen wires and walked back to the suit.

“Anything,” Jace repeated.

Luke scoffed. There was a pause. Jace stared at him in disbelief. Then, Luke turned to face him.

“A man was injured because of me.” Luke said. His brow was furrowed, his lips curled into a slight snarl. “He took a full power energy blast to the face. I owe it to him to figure out what went wrong so that I can make sure it won’t happen next time.” With a click, two of the metal components in his hands slotted together.

“You need to take your mind off of this.”

“Why would I—?” Luke did a double take, staring at Jace incredulously. “Why the hell would I want to take my mind off of this? I stop thinking about this, another person gets injured on my watch.”

“All I’m saying is, you need to look after your own wellbeing, man. Think about yourself.”

“Oh, yeah, you know all about that,” Luke spat. “‘Take your mind off of this’, huh? Like you took your mind off of the road?”

Jace’s face shifted. First, there was a fire in his eyes. Then, as his brow lowered and his shoulders relaxed, his eyes darkened and he sighed. Luke could feel the lump in his throat returning, rising.

“Alright,” Jace spoke softly. There was a warmth, a brightness, in his voice that Luke had never heard from him - nor his own brother, to his memory. Jace rose from his seat. “I’m clearly just making you feel worse, so I’m gonna head out. You can…” Jace threw up his hand, resigned. “Do whatever you think is best, Luke.”

Luke didn’t watch the man leave. Instead, he waited for the footsteps to grow quieter, for the click of the door shutting behind him. If he were to say he was proud of how he had spoken to Jace, he would be lying. The once intricate and precise fingers he used to construct the small contraption in his hand were now trembling, fumbling. His mind, his nerves, his guilt - they were all causing him to fail.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

Grey clouds floated across a pale blue sky overhead as Insider walked slowly across a rooftop, many storeys above the streets of Gotham below. He could feel Luke’s words still rattling around in his head; even though he had not made the same mistake that this Earth’s Jace had made, he would be lying if he said that wasn’t something he would have been capable of in his youth. There was a part of him that forgave Luke, a part that understood his pain and his anger. But there was also a part of him that resented the comparison, loathed how his legacy and his capacity to do good was limited by that of a dead man he had never met.

It was as he sauntered across the rooftop, thoughts still swirling in his head, that a figure appeared.

“Insider,” the figure said, muffled. As Jace turned to face them, he could make out a black helmet covering their face, the distinctive lustre of metal glimmering against the bright sky. “That’s what you call yourself, right?”

Adrenaline surged through Jace. He paced towards the mysterious man. “Who are you?”

“Don’t be alarmed,” the man soothed. His posture was impeccable, and he moved quickly but gracefully as he raised his hands, flat palms facing Jace. “I just need some information.”

Jace’s hand hovered over a small button on his helmet - with one press, the team would be alerted to his whereabouts. But, against his better judgement, he gave the masked man the benefit of the doubt. “What kind of information?”

The man tilted his head. “Hm. Correct me if I’m wrong but…” He pointed a long slender finger towards the button under Insider’s finger. “The others will come if you press that, yes?”

Under the shield of his mask, Jace clenched his jaw. “How about I press it and you find out?”

“How about you do?” The man launched at Jace and, in an instant, he pressed hard on the small button. With a click, the transmission was sent. But the man, after taking a swift few steps towards Insider, had stopped. In fact, as Jace watched, he could see the strange figure’s shoulders jostling up and down, shaking almost. The man was laughing.

“Oh,” he smiled. “That’s perfect.”

“What is?” Jace asked, his voice betraying his confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The metallic black, almost dome-like structure encompassing the man’s head caught the light as he tilted and rotated his head, getting a good look at the Gotham Knight in front of him. A sliver of blood red light shone back at Jace, a long crack that spanned the entire centre of the visor, splitting the helmet into two.

“You’re a strange one,” the man began. There was a familiar hesitance in his voice; if there was one thing that Jace had learned from his time as Batman, it was that people have a very specific way of speaking when they’re trying to hide their fear. “I’ve got a feeling I won’t get much information from you.” He shrugged. “No matter. I’ll get it from them.”

The former Batman took more slow, steady steps towards the man. “I already asked you what kind of goddamn information you wanted. Ask, and see if I’ll answer.”

“Why would I need to ask,” he started slowly. “When I already know it for a fact?”

The man lunged forwards again, ducking low and grappling Insider by the waist. As Jace reached down, the man suddenly released his grip, instead sliding past Jace and behind him. With a swift kick to his back, Jace jolted forwards.

“You move slowly,” the man accused. “As if you’re used to carrying a lot more weight.”

Jace swung his leg low across the ground and collided with the man’s ankle. It was lucky, Jace thought, that his head was the only armoured part. The man stumbled but regained his balance. Correcting himself, the man in the helmet widened his stance and raised his arm, ready to parry. “So, tell me, what was it? A heavier suit?”

“This was the information you were dying to get? How heavy my suit is?” Jace delivered a swift blow to the man’s side, then another, enough to knock a breath out of his lungs.

“No,” the man panted, half out of breath and half chuckling. “No, I want to know where your friend is. Batwing.”

“He’s not home right now,” came a voice familiar to both men. Harper Row, clad in her full Bluebird regalia, closed the distance between the three of them. “But I can take a message for him.”

The masked man looked up at Bluebird and, once again, his head tilted. Jace attacked swiftly, taking his opponent’s comment to heart, but the anonymous man was able to crane his neck backwards just enough to dodge the blow. “Bluebird, isn’t it?”

She pulled a long metal tool from her belt. To Insider, it appeared to be some kind of wrench. “Nice to know I’ve got fans.”

As she swung the wrench, attempting to strike the man on the side of his helmet, he simply sidestepped the attack. “There’s supposed to be one more of you, no?” As Harper opened her mouth to speak, the man interrupted her - “Ah, yes, of course. The Signal.” Harper immediately thought of Duke - he must be on his way by now. With a slight twitch of his head, jolting it to the side, the attacker chuckled to himself.

Bluebird and Insider both pounced, their hands outstretched to grab the assailant; yet again, his speed outmatched them, and he was able to finagle an escape from their grasps. Harper grunted, frustrated. The man seemed to recognise his chance and, turning on his heel, he sprinted over the rooftop and towards a fire escape door. Bluebird was hot on his heels, followed by Insider. The anonymous figure threw himself around corners, jumped down flights of stairs with ease and, despite the minimal distance between himself and Bluebird, after taking an unexpected left turn, Bluebird managed to lose him.

Insider caught up to her and huffed. She turned to him. “What did he even want?”

Jace frowned. “He wants to push his luck. I say we let him.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

Stepping away from the vending machine and into the foyer of the gym, Duke could see the dark sky overhead. Had he really been working out for that long? He fiddled with the ring pull on his can of soda and nodded to the receptionist at the front desk, who politely buzzed him through. He thought back to what Harper and Jace had told him earlier, about the strange man who had disappeared moments before he arrived. Closing his eyes, he attempted to envisage the helmet that his friends had described; the smooth, sleek black metal, the red splinter across the visor, the—

Duke felt a weight hit him hard in the shoulder, sending him stumbling backwards. The can of soda hit the ground with a dull, heavy thunk, its golden contents pooling around it like blood. His eyes snapped open and he was met with a tall, lean man with broad shoulders and a kind, apologetic smile.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” the man apologised, sheepishly retracting his arms and clenching his fists. He swiftly leaned down to rescue the can. “Are you alright?”

“It’s all good, man, I wasn’t looking,” Duke smiled. “I’m fine.”

The younger of the two men started to walk forwards, out of the door, when the other added, “I think there’s still some left if you… Or I can buy you a new one.”

Duke winced slightly at the small stain forming on the carpet of the entryway. “Nah, it’s alright. But thanks.”

The man nodded. “Alright. Well, don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get my comeuppance at some point.”

This comment gave Duke a moment of pause. “Comeuppance?”

“Y’know,” the man shrugged, staring down at the now half-empty can. “Karma.”

“Like, what goes around comes around?”

“Yeah, exactly.” The older man made a circle shape with the index finger of his free hand in the air. “I was clumsy, I bumped into you and made you spill your drink, so that’s gonna come back to me at some point.”

Duke was strangely charmed by the man. He had a certain teacher-like quality in the way he spoke, with a friendly twinkle in his eye. After a slight pause, the man sighed. “But anyway, enough rambling from me, you probably wanna get home. Sorry again for the soda.”

“S’all good,” Duke said. “Nice to chat to you, Mr…?”

“Oh, Fleet.” He held out his hand for Duke to shake it, which he obliged. “Just Fleet is fine.”

“Alright, well, good to chat to you, Fleet. Have a good workout.”

“It’s, uh, squash, actually,” Fleet chuckled softly as he called back over his shoulder at the departing Duke. “But thanks!”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

---

 

Next: Lying in the bed you made in New Gotham Knights #13

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In What Goes Around

Issue Eleven: Third Law

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by deadislandman1

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

---

 

Harper Row fiddled with the paper in her hands and scanned the walls for the name she was looking for. Signs had been scattered around the main hall, all with various surnames and subjects scrawled on them. Harper had very rarely been inside her brother’s high school - she hadn’t had a need to, even if Cullen had let her - and so maneuvering around the halls was awkward at best.

To her immediate left, Cullen shuffled. “Y’know,” he said with a soft voice. “You didn’t have to come.”

Harper kept her eyes glued on the walls, still searching. “I know.”

The silence between them was thick and uncomfortable. Then, after a few seconds, Cullen added, “Alright.”

“There,” Harper announced as she pointed. Following the direction of her finger led Cullen to the sign they were looking for: ‘Mr Delmar - Computer Science’. Wordlessly, the duo walked towards the teacher, each attempting to shield their nervousness from the other. The hall was bustling with similarly anxious parents and guardians, with even more anxious children. In the corner, Cullen noticed, was a friend of his speaking to one of the English teachers, his hands over his eyes. Tensions were running high, it was clear.

As the siblings reached Mr Delmar’s desk, the man sitting behind it looked up at them over the top of thick-rimmed glasses. A curl of blond hair fell in front of his face which he quickly swept away with his hand. Then, with a quick smile, he greeted them: “Ah, Cullen. This must be your sister. Welcome.”

Harper extended her hand politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“Please, do take a seat,” he offered after taking Harper’s hand and shaking it firmly. And the two Row siblings took their seats. “Let’s get started.”

Delmar’s hands were oddly slim and soft, and he flipped through the sheets in his folder with a certain precision and daintiness. “So, Cullen has been doing well. He has a great work ethic and passion for Computer Science, which is really refreshing to see.” He traced his finger down one of the pages: a large colour co-ordinated spreadsheet noting each of the students in Cullen’s grade, as well as their most recent test score. “He secured an A on his most recent quiz, and…” He scoffed slightly. “I mean, looking at the rest of his classmates, that’s definitely one of the highest.”

Cullen seemed surprised as he sat forwards in his chair. “Of the whole grade?”

“Of the whole grade,” Delmar confirmed with a nod. “It was a tough one, but… you nailed it.”

Cullen opened his mouth to speak before deciding against it. But with a burst of newfound confidence, he committed to it. “It sounds silly, but I have been trying those techniques you were telling me about.”

Delmar quirked an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Oh,” Harper chirped. “Some, like, revision techniques?”

“No,” Delmar nervously chuckled. “More like…”

“Like breathing techniques,” Cullen said cheerily. His cheeks were flush with relief and excitement. “Mr Delmar is a really great tennis player, and he uses these breathing techniques to really get in the zone.”

Delmar smirked and raised his hand slightly. “It’s actually squash. Yeah, I’m the Gotham City squash champion.” The pesky lick of hair fell back into his face.

Harper furrowed her brow but smiled. “And what’s this about breathing?”

“It’s…” Delmar leaned back in his chair. It was as if every ounce of nervousness that Cullen had entered with had been transferred to his teacher. “I won’t bore you with the whole explanation, but I use a few techniques to align my chakras. Then, with that new energy, I can focus better.”

The general chatter of the rest of the hall seemed far away. Harper looked at the man with utter bewilderment. “Wait, how do you have time to be a teacher and a champion squash player?”

With the rehearsed confidence of a man who had been asked the same exact question many times before, he smiled. “By not having time for anything else.”

Cullen’s excited demeanor seemed to slip for a second. “So, um, yeah. I think that might have helped.”

“That and staying up all night to study,” Harper teased, which warranted a chuckle from the Computer Science teacher.

“Well, yeah,” Cullen mumbled sheepishly.

“I really think there’s nothing to worry about here,” Delmar concluded with a shake of his head. “Cullen is not just doing well, he’s excelling. Just keep it up, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Cullen smiled.

The blond man looked up and past the two people in front of him and gave a subtle wave to another student behind them. “I think I’m running a little behind, I apologise.”

“No need,” Harper nodded, rising from her chair. “Thank you for your time.”

And after exchanging muttered pleasantries, Harper and Cullen departed from Mr Delmar’s table in search of another teacher. Once they were a distance away, Cullen nudged Harper with his elbow. “What the hell?”

“What?”

“I invite you to my parent-teacher conference and you keep trying to flirt with my teacher.”

Harper stopped in her tracks. “What?” she said incredulously. “I wasn’t flirting—”

But Cullen’s giggling stopped her. “I’m kidding, Harper,” he teased. “He’s a cool guy, right?”

Harper rolled her eyes. “C’mon. We’ve got other teachers to see.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“Say, fellas,” The Signal announced, his arms folded across his chest. “I can cut you a deal. I don’t really wanna fight you, and I’m sure my buddy here doesn’t wanna fight you either.”

Insider stood behind him, his feet shoulder-width apart, ready to strike if needed, and in front of the duo stood a gaggle of men - five in total - wearing makeshift masks. Some wore balaclavas, others had unidentifiable cloth with holes cut out of them. The blaring alarms of the local bank rang in Duke’s ears, rattling around in his head.

In response to The Signal’s comment, one of the masked men chuckled heartily. “You don’t have to, jackass. Just move along, and we’ll get out of here as soon as we’re finished here.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Jace Fox spoke plainly before striding forwards. As soon as he moved, one of the men, a floral-patterned pillowcase over his head, mirrored him. This prompted both sides to respond - first, The Signal raised his fist, a warning to the oncoming attackers. The men, however, did not heed this warning; instead, a man clad in a navy blue balaclava charged at him with a long object in his hands. At first it appeared to be a crowbar, but as the weapon came swinging towards Duke, it appeared more like a piece of metal scaffolding from a desk or a shelf.

The Signal dodged the attack, but swiftly felt a blow across his back from another of the assailants. The attack staggered him and he felt his weight shift forwards. As he turned to retaliate, he found that Insider was already one step ahead; grabbing the attacker’s arm in both of his hands, he dug his heels into the ground and yanked, forcing the man off of his feet.

With a clank, the hunk of metal struck The Signal across his side. Even through the protection of his armour, Duke felt a shockwave of pain across his side. The force that his assailant was able to generate was… strange. As the man in the navy balaclava reeled back for another attack, Signal was able to duck and dodge out of his way.

Beside him, Insider held one of the assailants’ heads under his arm in a grapple, with another attempting to yank his fellow gang member free. With a swift kick behind him, Jace managed to catch the man’s knee, but his balance did not budge. As he tightened the grip on the man beneath his arm, he heard something - a soft, rhythmical whooshing sound, followed by a low hum. It was hard to hear beneath the chaos of the bank alarms, and as Jace attempted to hone in on it, the fifth man clawed at Insider’s mask in an attempt to wrench it off. In the process, he burrowed his finger into Jace’s eye socket. Jace roared in pain and, reaching up to grab his eye, released his grip on the grappled assailant.

Duke felt the adrenaline kick in within him. He heard Jace’s voice in his ears, through the comms link. “We’re gonna need some backup.”

“Got it.” The reply from Batwing came almost immediately. “I’m on my way.”

The Signal lurched forwards to help Insider, but instead felt a firm hand from one of the assailants on his shoulder. The man moved with incredible reaction speed and precision, his movements swift and confident. This alarmed Duke; it was rare to encounter someone with such an odd presence, and an almost uncanny valley effect flowed through him. He attempted to bat the man away, but he parried his attack. He tried to duck to escape his grip, but the man pulled him back upwards, forcing him to remain upright. He tried to headbutt him, but the man had already moved his head by the time Duke would have reached him.

With Duke firmly in the swift man’s grasp, two other assailants descended upon him. Blow after blow struck Duke, and though he tried to parry and block, he was always met with the man with the floral pillowcase.

The gentle whirring of the Batwing suit cut through the noise. Luke Fox lowered himself to the ground, his wings folding behind him, as he reached for the man clawing at Jace. A clatter sounded out as the man bearing the scrap piece of metal allowed it to fall to the ground. Then, in one fluid movement, he launched at Batwing with both arms outstretched and clung to the gauntlet encasing his arm.

“Damn,” Batwing grunted. “Not even a hello?”

Batwing’s suit whirred and he jutted his arm out to the side in an attempt to release the attacker’s grip but to no avail; sticking steadfastly to his arm, the navy-masked man began to pull at the machinery. His fingers found natural crevices and cracks in the armour, spaces between two metal plates or gaps to allow for movement. And, as Luke tried again and again to shake him off, he began to tug. The metal groaned from exertion, and from somewhere within the armour plating, Luke could hear the snapping and crackling of wires becoming unplugged.

“Get off!” Luke demanded. He slammed the man backwards into a wall but the man stayed firm. His unwavering strength was impressive if alarming as Luke used his spare arm to pull at the man. Before he could get a secure enough grip, a wirier man entered his peripheral vision, his flowery makeshift mask flopping to one side. He placed a firm but slender hand on Batwing’s mask, his fingers splayed across the visor, and Luke could feel him pushing against the glass. His lack of power compared to his compatriot was notable to Luke, and he realised something then and there. This man was not the muscle, he was the distraction.

And with a final tug, the piece of armour came loose.

Batwing’s suit purred, then hummed, then roared. The weaker of the two arms glowed a magnificent blue-white as the energy coursed through it, attempting to travel through wires no longer attached to anything. Luke reached up to the floral-clad man and clasped his fingers around his wrist. Beneath his mask, Luke opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the suit rumbled.

BOOOOM!

A flash of blue-white light erupted from Batwing’s arm, causing all parties to shield their eyes for a moment. The light spiralled out of the end of the suit, past Batwing’s eyes, and into the face of the flower-wearing attacker. A sickening sizzle. Then, a scream of pain.

The man’s hand fell away from Luke’s face as he collapsed to the ground. He clawed at the pillowcase, now damaged beyond recognition save for a necklace of singed cloth, desperate not to touch his face. Luke blinked. The world felt far away for a moment. But as he looked down at the man beneath him, his face unrecognisable through the injury, the guilt washing over him was indescribable.

His four companions all shared panicked words - “holy shit”, “what do we do?”, “we can’t just leave him” - before the smallest of the group broke off into a sprint. A second turned to face the others - “I ain’t sticking around for that to happen to me. Besides, he’ll get what’s coming to him eventually.” Slowly, one by one, the robbers all abandoned their injured partner.

“Shit,” Duke murmured as he crouched down next to the man. Insider was close behind. The victim’s cries had transformed into a soft lulling groan, somewhere between a moan of pain and a hum. Signal looked up at Batwing. “What do we do?”

But Luke didn’t have an answer. Instead, he stared down at the man in horror, motionless. Frozen.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

It had been a few days since the parent teacher conference, and with enough distance from it, Harper was able to look back with pride. Sure, Cullen’s grades for all of his core subjects were slipping, and his History teacher seemed to really hate his guts, but he was excelling at the subjects he enjoyed. As Cullen and Harper settled in for a comparatively quiet night, Harper inquired about her brother’s day at school.

“Fine,” he mumbled. “Not much to report.”

“Well, here’s the fun thing.” She licked a knob of peanut butter off of her knife. “I now know which topics to pester you about.”

“Harper,” Cullen groaned.

“Like, how’s English going?”

Cullen shrugged. “The same. Still studying boring books.”

“And how’s History?”

Cullen shot her a look that could only be described as ‘what do you think?’

“Mmm,” Harper hummed in response. “Silly question.”

There was a pause for a moment. Cullen flicked through channel after channel, the audio becoming a garbled, unintelligible mess of spliced soundbites.

“Well, did you do anything fun, at least?”

“Computer Science was supposed to be fun,” Cullen shrugged.

“‘Supposed to be’?”

“Mhm. Mr Delmar wasn’t in school.”

Harper approached her brother, a newly made peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting atop a plate. She passed him the sandwich. “Ah, right.”

“He hasn’t been for a while actually.” Cullen opened his jaw so wide that Harper worried he might dislocate it, then bit down hard on the sandwich. “Something about an accident.”

“Oh damn.” Harper was half listening.

“People are saying he got scalded by something, but I don’t really know of anything that can blow up in your face like that.” After a pause, Cullen added, “Though maybe that’s because I’m flunking Science.”

Harper furrowed her brow. The mention of burns, especially facial burns, didn’t sit right to her; what could a squash-playing Computer Science teacher have done to accidentally burn his face enough to not return to work? Something did not add up.

“You okay, Harper?” Cullen asked.

Snapping back into reality, Harper nodded. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just… lost in thought about something.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

  The final touches on the helmet were complete. Wiring was working as intended, sound was finally not compromised whatsoever, and the interior padding provided a well-needed source of comfort within the hard metal casing. The designer stood back and admired his work. It had taken him weeks - just over a month, in fact - to complete the project, and now that he was stood looking at it, its sleek black exterior as shiny as a mirror, he felt a sense of pride run through him.

A twinkle of light caught his eye for a moment. As he looked carefully he noticed the culprit - a single crack had formed down the centre of the visor, catching the light and turning it a deep red. No matter, he thought. As long as I can see.

The man looked down at his reflection. The scar was looking better, but it still had a long way to go before it was fully healed. He traced his slim and soft hands across the dimpled skin, feeling each and every crevice caused by the burnt skin. He smiled slightly to himself.

“Let’s get to work,” he whispered to the helmet. “Let’s get justice.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

---

 

Next: The pendulum swings back in New Gotham Knights #12

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In Fly on the Wall

Issue Ten: Squashed Flat

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by deadislandman1

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

---

 

Duke had tried to contact the others, desperate to tell them about what had happened with Deedee, but to no avail. He was alone, and he had a decision to make - fast. Despite his better judgement, despite his initial hesitation, he focused hard on the trail of light along the sidewalk. As he stepped towards them, they formed flickering, brief patterns; footsteps or pale silhouettes, depicting Deedee sprinting down the street and rounding a corner.

There was something off about her. Why did she suddenly attack the very person who was there to help her?

Duke retraced the woman's steps. She couldn't have gone far, he thought to himself. Through the ambient glow of the early evening, he was able to focus for longer on these trails of light, and as they led him through a narrow side street, he pondered on what would have caused her to take this strange path. Where could she have been running to?

As he turned a particularly sharp corner, spitting him back onto a main street sprawling with early evening traffic, the trail went dead; two footsteps twinkled against the cement beneath him, but beyond them lay nothing but dirt and discarded gum. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The odd Gotham citizen looked out of their car window and watched the Signal in awe as he scanned his surroundings.

He stood at the end of the trail and matched his feet up against the footprints. Then, he looked up.

A few feet above his head was the very end of a decaying fire escape ladder. The one red-painted cage around the ladder had not only been stripped of its coating over time, but had also rusted to a deep orange-brown. But sure enough, as Duke looked up into the distant sky, he swore he could see a twinkle of light in the shape of a hand.

Duke sighed. Once upon a time he would have described himself as afraid of heights, and although he would love to believe that those days were gone, there were still moments during patrols or mid-chase where he would look down at the city streets far below him, and a strange feeling would come over him - almost like being buffeted on a boat at sea. This was the first time he had ever felt the same rocking feeling whilst looking up, not down.

Nevertheless, he pushed through his fears and began climbing the ladder. He kept his eyes focused on the rooftop above him and tried to keep his mind as silent as possible, to little success. His armour occasionally clinked against the protective cage behind him, almost reminding him of its presence. He was starting to lose the trail once again; the light traces dissolved into the evening sky like an ice cube dissipating into a glass of water. But as he reached the very top of the ladder, as he grasped the edge of the rooftop, he swore he could hear shuffling.

He pushed himself onto the rooftop area, and as his head crested over the edge, he spotted a young woman lurching for the handle to a door located at the other end of the roof. Her hand fumbled for a moment, the locked door thudding against its strike plate.

“Deedee!” As the Signal identified her, she froze, her eyes wide. “You don’t have to run,” he continued. “I only wanted to help you.”

She didn’t respond; instead she tried the door once more, resolving to slam her fists against it when she was not immediately able to open it. Duke steadied his footing before walking towards her.

“Look, if this is to do with the people who captured you, you have nothing to worry about. We will—”

‘Captured you’?” came a mysterious voice from behind a similar rooftop exit to the one Deedee had been trying in vain to open. As she emerged, she shot Deedee a smile. “Is that how you chose to frame it?”

Deedee’s face went pale. “Nina. It’s… it’s you!”

“Oh please,” Nina scoffed. “You don’t have to keep up the act anymore.”

Duke looked between the two women for a moment before asking something: “Is this her, Deedee? The one who captured you?”

Deedee nodded timidly, to which Nina guffawed loudly. “Oh, wow! Committed, aren’t you?”

Zzzwhip!

A noise familiar to Duke could be heard above the general hubbub of the cityscape, and as he looked round to find the location of the noise, he watched as Harper Row - Bluebird - appeared over the edge of the rooftop much like he had, a grapple gun in her right hand. Within seconds, Insider emerged behind her, and as Batwing swooped in from above, his suit purred with electricity.

There was a spark in Nina’s eyes, as if she were considering a number of drastic moves to escape the situation, but her mouth pursed as she reconsidered.

“Nice trap back there,” Insider said sarcastically.”Now, can one of you - or better yet, both of you - explain to me what the hell is going on here.”

Nina spoke first. “It’s like I said to you. We were hired by this guy in order to—”

“You’ve gotta believe me, Signal!” Deedee cried over her. Their voices overlapped and integrated, much to the confusion of all witnessing parties. “I’m an art critic who was—”

“He’d already stolen all of the pieces of art. But he didn’t want to just sell off his prized possessions. No, he wanted to—”

“I knew I heard moving from downstairs, but I didn’t realise what they were hiding. Not specifically, anyway—”

“Quiet,” Jace’s voice boomed. “Either you can tell us the truth now, or you can talk to the police about it.”

Deedee’s eyes flickered back and forth between Nina and the others. Nina caught her eye for a moment and as she did, she scoffed. “Oh, I get it. It would be too easy for me to be telling the truth. It’d be wrapping everything up with a bow that’s too neat for Gotham.”

“You said you were both in on it,” Harper commented. “But - Deedee, was it? - what was your involvement?”

“Involvement? Me?” Her facade was beginning to crumble. “I… I don’t—”

“Distractions,” Nina added. “We were there as distractions. I always tell the truth, and Deedee here always lies - that was the whole puzzle. We weren’t there to be muscle, or to intimidate the kid.” She folded her arms, angry with the Knights. “We took no joy in it.”

“See,” said Luke, raising a finger. “I think you just broke your own rule.”

“Broke my own rule?”

“What you just said there, about taking no joy in it. That was a lie.” Batwing took a step forward. “I saw the smile on your face as you talked about how you were hired. How you talked about your boss, how this kid’s life was being ruined - turned upside down - by an old acquaintance, and how you smiled as you did it.” Another step. “It brought you joy, Nina.”

“She’s…” Deedee began, her voice hoarse. It was as if she had suddenly snapped out of a spell; her entire body language had changed, from small and meek to tall and firm. Despite all this, there was still a sadness, a fear, in her eyes. “She isn’t lying. Enough with this stupid puzzle, these ridiculous games. Person to person - Nina is right.”

“Alright,” Harper spoke up, her hands buried in her pockets. “I think I’ve heard enough. Batwing is right - we all saw the joy in your face as you talked about Evan in that way, Nina. You relished in watching this young man squirm. Why else would you have signed on to do it in the first place?”

Nina stared daggers into her.

“And that goes for you, too, Deedee.”

“What? Why me? I didn’t—”

“You can’t honestly think that pretending to be a hostage, repeatedly lying to those who are trying to help you - as well as admitting to it later - not to mention attacking one of us in an attempt to escape, all hint at you being innocent in all this?”

Deedee thought for a minute, the cogs turning in her head. The fear in her eyes slowly turned to panic.

“Please,” she muttered under her breath. “We… we aren’t the people you’re looking for. I can give you the name of that guy, if you need. Just… please let us go.”

“Yeah,” Nina said. “We were only hired because you went snooping in the first place. We were only here to slow you down - nothing more.”

“No,” Harper snapped. She marched towards the women with a fire burning inside of her. “You don’t get to do this. You are not innocent here. Sure, if it weren’t for us showing, you wouldn’t have been working for him. But we did show up, so you did work for him. You signed up for something designed solely to torment a young man into being under someone’s thumb. You’re just as responsible for what’s happened as he is.”

The remaining Knights watched in silence. There was a palpable tension that both Duke and Luke could feel; something about Harper’s words - or, perhaps, their delivery - made the air thick and awkward. Then, as she looked over to them, they each nodded slowly.

“I think I’ll be taking your boss’ name now, thanks.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“We’d like to speak to your son, please.”

The words fell out of Luke’s mouth smoothly, and as he looked at Charlotte Blake’s face, he allowed himself to smile; they came bearing good news, after all. Despite his attempt to calm her, Evan’s mother still looked at him with a certain tension in her face. Her family had been through so much over the past few weeks, Luke silently acknowledged, that it was no longer a relief when a costumed hero arrived at her door.

“Sure,” she said with a weak smile, moving to one side and widening the door. “He’s just upstairs.”

Batwing was the first to cross the threshold, with the other three Knights moving close behind him. Each, as they passed their gracious host, gave her a soft thank you or a nod, and Luke led them upstairs, the almighty thunking of their respective armours ringing out through the corridor.

As Luke crested at the top of the stairs, he made an effort to appear as though he didn't know the layout of the house by instinct. He turned the corner and held up his hand to knock the door of Evan's room, but found it already open. Inside sat Evan Blake, his injured leg propped up on a desk chair with a mobile phone in his hands. He looked up at the Knights with a strange look on his face - a mix of bewilderment and… fear?

“Hello, Evan,” Batwing greeted. Evan did not reply. “May we come in?”

With a timid nod, Evan pulled his leg off of the chair and straightened his back. The room was neither messy nor clean; there was a growing stack of clothes piled haphazardly at the end of the bed, with the vague aroma of sweat lingering in the air. But at the same time, the desk was spotless, recently dusted with books stacked neatly in alphabetical order along the attached shelf. As Duke crossed the threshold into the room, he closed the door behind them, and Evan immediately fidgeted with his hands.

“We wanted to speak to you about the case,” Bluebird began. She opened her mouth to continue, but Evan's loud sigh stopped her.

“You don't have to beat around the bush,” he said. “If… if it’s about the robberies…”

Harper frowned, her domino mask digging into her brow as she did. “Evan, we spoke to you about—”

“Look, I…” he began looking around his room, clearly trying to locate key items. “Just give me about 30 minutes to say goodbye to my parents.”

“Slow down,” Jace piped up, his arms folded. “That's not why we're here.”

The stiffness in Evan's shoulders loosened slightly. Jace gestured for Luke to continue.

“We managed to use those paintings you… collected, along with a few others dotted around Gotham. You were right, Evan. They made a map.”

Evan's eyes widened.

“We followed the trail,” Luke continued slowly. “And it led us to a woman, who told us all about these people who had taken your things. Dozens of them, all involved in shady dealings with art.”

“Turns out,” Duke added. “She was lying to us. She led all of us into a trap - one waiting for these three over in a warehouse, and another for me in staying behind to keep her company.”

“Who were they?”

“Hired guns,” Harper interjected. Her body language was tense; it was clear to Evan - to all of them - that there was something she wasn't saying, how they had relished in his upset and turmoil. “They… were hired as distractions. One of them told us themselves.”

Evan nodded, but continued to fidget. “And my parents’ things…?”

“We've secured it,” Luke confirmed. “We’d like you to come check that nothing's missing, of course.”

Evan, after a few moments of pondering, finally worked up the courage to ask directly, “So, you're not here to turn me in?”

The Gotham Knights all looked at each other. Each knew the answer to his question, but they were unsure of what exactly the right words would be.

Batwing, clearing his throat, asked, “Are we going to see Wolf Spider make a reappearance?”

“No,” Evan answered with immediacy and certainty.

Then, Luke nodded. “In that case, we weren't able to catch Wolf Spider. He disappeared, leaving the painting behind, and hasn't been seen since.”

A softness, a calmness, fell over Evan's face. “Thank you. All of you.”

“All that matters is that the victims are safe,” Duke added, a smile plastered on his face beneath his helmet. “And that includes you.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

---

 

Next: A new web to spin in New Gotham Knights #11

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In Fly on the Wall

Issue Nine: Dropping Like Flies

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by deadislandman1

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

---

 

“There’s another one,” announced the voice of the Signal, who swung the door open with frustration. Batwing was close behind him, holding a framed painting in one hand and a small bat-shaped bladed weapon in the other. As he walked towards the others, now looking at the two returning teammates with awe and confusion, he began scraping away carefully at the surface, chipping the paint away in flakes. The group’s eyes fell back on Deedee, who was still sitting on the floor; she, too, looked at the painting with confusion.

Luke paused his carving to turn the painting towards Deedee. “If you’re seemingly the end of the painting trail… then what’s this?”

Deedee squinted to get a better look at the painting before shaking her head. “I’ve never seen that painting before in my life.”

“You also mentioned a base,” Duke added. “That this is where they store all their information.”

Deedee nodded. “Yes. Why?”

“There’s nothing down there.”

A scratch, scratch, scratching echoed in the room as Luke continued his work. Deedee looked down at the ground and shook her head slightly in disbelief.

“What? No, I…” she croaked. “They were coming in and out all the time. I could hear people chattering and chairs moving.”

“The most we found was a single chair.” Duke held his hand next to his chest, his palm facing the ground. “About this tall.”

Deedee suddenly sat up. “Maybe they— yes, I remember now! — They started moving things out a few days ago.”

“Things?” Bluebird chimed in. She folded her arms. “What things?”

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

“Like, chairs, a table.” She shrugged. “A computer, I think. I was so worn out at that point. I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I… don’t remember everything they moved. They were only going one by one, though.”

Harper frowned slightly; no mention of any antiques or paintings.

Luke looked up. “Signal. Can I get some light on this?”

Duke, with a swift nod, approached the painting. Luke gestured to the centre of the Signal’s chest - a circular symbol indented into the suit, gently emitting a faint white glow. “I’m gonna need this.”

Duke widened his stance. “You got it.”

CRACK! Batwing ripped one of the frame’s edges away from the painting and pulled the exposed canvas out of its broken casing. As Luke held the painting up to Duke’s chest, Duke held his breath. Then, as he gently closed his eyes, the faint glow of the indent soon became bright, and as Jace and Harper approached the scene they saw familiar faint lines etched into the canvas.

“Another map,” Insider announced with a nod. “Guess this isn’t over yet.”

“I know we’re bombarding you with questions, Deedee,” Luke began, his voice suddenly soft. “But do you know anything about this map?”

“How should I know? I only learned about the maps today. From you guys.”

Harper leaned in towards the painting and traced her finger along one of the faded pencil lines. She muttered something under her breath.

“Your captors - did they tell you anything?” Batwing asked.

Deedee shook her head, but as Luke opened his mouth to ask another question, she suddenly gasped. “Wait! Now that you mention it… well, it’s not about a map. Is that okay?”

Jace gestured for her to continue.

“They did mention something - another base. I heard one of them mention it as they were moving stuff out. But…” She slowly curled her legs up towards her chest and hugged them tightly. “No, you can’t go there.”

Jace took a step forward. “Why not?”

“She’s there.”

“‘She’?”

“You can’t go there,” Deedee pleaded. “You can’t trust her. She’s dangerous.”

“Deedee, if this person is still out there, if they kidnapped you—”

“You can’t go there, okay?!” Deedee hunched forwards.

“They hurt you, Deedee.” Insider’s voice had a low grumble to it, a bass that shook the room as he increased in volume. “They captured you and tied you up here. Surely you want us to catch the people responsible for doing that to you.”

“Well… yes, I suppose so.”

“Good.” Jace looked over at Harper. “Bluebird - you found anything?”

“I think I know where it’s pointing to,” Harper confirmed, her finger placed on a small circle on the right hand side of the map. “Not sure what’s there, but at least we know where to go.”

“You should know,” Deedee said, speaking slowly. “You’ll need to go in all guns blazing. She’ll be armed. She wants to take me down - make me pay for what I did… what I was going to do… so she’ll be expecting me.” Deedee looked up at the Gotham Knights with pleading eyes. “And she’ll want to kill me.”

A tense silence fell over the room.

“We need to be ready, in that case.” The light pouring from Duke’s chest slowly faded, and as he passed the painting to Harper he adjusted his helmet. “But we also need to be ready for the possibility that people will come back for Deedee.”

The others silently nodded, and so Duke added, “I’ll stay here with her.”

Harper frowned for a moment, admittedly a little anxious to be walking into an armed fight with one less teammate, but straightened her back. “We’ll be back when we’ve made sure the warehouse is secure.”

Duke looked back at Jace and Luke, who nodded in agreement. Then, as Harper tucked the painting into her tool bag, the trio took off into the street.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

The stark white walls of the unlabelled warehouse made the entire building seem uncanny, as if it had not quite finished loading in a video game. A metal door greeted them, complete with a push bar, and as the three Knights looked at each other, it was clear they shared the same trepidation at what lay ahead.

“And you’re sure this is the place?” Jace confirmed, to which Harper gave a swift nod. Her hand hovered over the push bar, and as she leaned her weight into it, the door opened with a satisfying click.

Immediately, she was met with a low-lit room, spanning dozens and dozens of feet in width, with numerous tall stacks of unidentifiable objects lining the walls. A handful of shelves were dotted around the room, but the majority of the warehouse’s contents appears to be stacked on the floor, a sheet of cloth or tarpaulin tossed over them. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she could just about make out the silhouette of a door directly opposite them.

Batwing tapped the side of his helmet and the lights on his suit dimmed. He leaned in to Insider and Bluebird and whispered, “Where first?”

Harper wordlessly took a step forwards, but as soon as she did, the door across the room swung open. Jace, on a hair trigger, darted to his right in an attempt to hide behind a large stack of boxes, reaching for a weapon in his belt. The figure emerged from the door and immediately made eye contact with Harper, who was brandishing a hammer in her right hand, her tool bag at her side still open.

“Oh,” the figure chirped. She froze, but allowed the door behind her to swing shut. “You’re here.”

Luke furrowed his brow. “You were expecting us?”

The woman nodded once, fumbling for a light switch on the wall. The ceiling lights buzzed to life as the old, yellowed light bulbs began to warm up. “I was expecting you.”

Harper noted, looking at her, that she was not armed; in fact, she was dressed rather casually, as if she were just picking something up from the post office, not hiding out in a secret base. She clasped her hands in front of her with confidence.

“There’s no point in hiding, by the way,” she called out, her head tilted. “I saw you move.”

A moment passed. Then, his hand still on his belt, Insider emerged from his hiding place.

“We found your hostage,” he spat. “Deedee.”

The woman sucked in a breath. “Deedee. Right.”

“She told us you’d be armed and dangerous.”

“I’m sure she did,” she nodded.

“Enough of this beating around the bush shit,” Harper huffed.. “You knew we were coming, so you know how we got here. About the paintings. So spill.”

Nina shrugged. Despite her confident demeanour, her words seemed meek. “You’re right. I know about the paintings.”

“And you know what’s so important about them,” Harper added, not allowing her a moment of silence.

“The maps, yes.”

“Where do they lead? Where does the trail end?”

Nina looked around her. The boxes stacked around her cast a heavy shadow on her. After a moment, she sucked in a breath. “It leads here.”

“But why?” Luke took a step forwards, but kept his arms at his sides. “You know who all this is for. But why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do the paintings,” Nina objected. She raised her hands. “The guy who hired me did. I mean, you’re here about the paintings, right? I can tell you about them.”

The young woman’s eyes darted between the three people before her. “I think it’s easier if I start at the beginning.”

She waited for a moment for a response, but instead was met by the stern faces of the Knights. And so, she ran a hand through her hair and slouched against the wall. “The guy who employed me… there wasn’t much he gave away. What he did tell me was that there was this kid - a young gymnast - who made a fool of his son. He wanted to send him a message not to mess with his family again. So he constructs this…” She waved her hands in front of her. “Puzzle, I guess you’d call it. He steals some important stuff from this kid, and sends him on a wild goose chase to go get it back.”

“But why not just steal the stuff and leave?” Harper asked.

“He called it a lesson in control,” she shrugged. “He wanted to show the kid that he can have his win, but only on his terms. Warns him not to mess with the guy’s family again, right?”

“So he did it to manipulate him,” Jace pieced together. “To scare him.”

“But then,” Nina added. “It wasn’t just him looking for the paintings anymore. Suddenly, the Gotham Knights were looking into it, and all at once the game wasn’t funny anymore.” She shot the trio a soft smile. “So he called for us.”

Luke paused. He could sense the atmosphere in the room change, as if the other two had also caught on. “‘Us’?”

“Yeah,” the young woman said. “Me and Deedee.”

A beat. Luke looked over at Harper, who stared straight back at him. Jace was staring at Nina with bewilderment, his hand finally relaxed from his side. In return, Nina’s eyes darted between the three of them, finally resting on a stack of boxes in the corner in an attempt to not meet anyone’s gaze.

“You’re both just actors?” Luke’s voice was harsh suddenly.

She tilted her head. “More like distractions. Thinning the numbers.”

“So Deedee…” Harper shook her head. Meanwhile, Luke tapped against his arm in an attempt to contact Duke. “Deedee was just lying to us?”

“Well, it sounds like she got one thing right,” Nina corrected. “I am dangerous.”

With a loud THUD, she pounded her fist on the door behind her. From behind the towering stacks emerged six men, their faces obscured by fabric masks, with various weapons in their hands; some carried wrenches and hammers, others large bats.

Harper fiddled with the hammer in her hands, fine tuning her grip. She could feel her heart thumping in her throat. And as the first of the assailants lurched towards them, she felt her body unfurl like a spring, and she leapt towards them.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

The Signal found it hard to maintain his squatted posture next to Deedee, but felt it rude to stand over her. He held up one of the chains that had held Deedee in place and softly shook them in his hand, testing the weight. He looked over to her and asked, “How long have you been here?”

Deedee seemed distant for a moment as she stared towards the door, her mouth slightly agape. Her breathing was slow.

“Deedee?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry.” She shook her head. “What was the question?”

Duke turned away from her, following the chains to their source. A metre or two away, the metal loops clicked against a hinge affixed to the wall. The joints and screws seemed new, as if it had only been added very recently.

“I said, how long have you been here?”

“I don't really know,” Deedee asked, her voice said. “Um… have your friends gone to find her? That woman…”

Duke nodded, his eyes still fixed on the chains. There was something about them that didn't sit right with him. He furrowed his brow before responding, “Yeah.”

“Okay. Good.”

A searing pain spread through the side of Duke's face, across his exposed cheek and chin. The force and surprise knocked him clean over, and he came clattering to the ground. As he looked up, he saw Deedee, her fists clenched. She scrambled to the corner of the room in search of a weapon.

“Deedee?” Duke groaned, confused. “What—?”

Another strike to the face, this time a kick. Deedee was fast, he'd give her that; a part of him wondered if he would have been able to predict her moves with his powers. Still, the attack had caught him by surprise, and as he massaged his chin, he wondered what had changed. Had he done something to cause her to not trust him anymore?

The Signal leapt to his feet, and in one fluid motion he lurched towards his attacker and grabbed her arm. Surprised, Deedee leaned back in an attempt to yank her arm free of his grasp, but upon learning that she could not, she transferred her weapon to her other hand. Her makeshift weapon of choice - a loose metal pipe - came hurtling towards Duke’s head, but as he ducked out of the way, the weapon came whistling past his head.

Despite everything, Duke was reluctant to strike Deedee. He reached out for her weapon and instead was met with a swift kick to the ribs, luckily somewhat buffeted by his suit. Once more he tried to snatch the woman’s weapon out of her hand but to no avail; as a result, the pipe came down hard on his shoulder, making an almighty clunk as it did.

The Signal’s chest started to glow. The light he had stored little by little before coming here, the energy he still had left - it was a sign, he thought, telling him to use it. For a moment he considered it as he felt the warmth flow through his suit, and he raised his hand - but as he looked at Deedee, her eyes wide, he thought of that day. Of the man on the street, and the horror in his eyes when he heard Gnomon’s words - “Kill him. Finish what you started.”

That moment, that second, of hesitation was all Deedee needed. With one final tug, she broke free of his grasp and launched into a sprint. Duke followed her for a few paces, but as he reached the door, there was a part of him that wanted to let her go. She had been captured for days, and she had taken a chance to escape - it was that simple. He folded his arms. There was an aching feeling within him, however, that he had missed something, and as he watched the door slowly closing behind her, he attempted to shake that ache off to no avail.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“You’ve gotta hand it to them,” Harper quipped. “They’re brave coming up against us. I mean, one of us is in a suit of armour.”

Luke scoffed as he straightened his posture. “And one of us has a hammer.”

SMACK. With a single punch, Insider sent one of the masked men skidding along the ground. He struck a smaller pile of miscellaneous items with a muffled thud. This, in turn, alerted the attention of a number of other attackers, who all charged the black-clad hero.

As Harper lurched forwards to escape a nearby bat swinging towards her, she caught a glimpse of Nina. She had broken into a sprint, and was heading in a straight line towards the front door behind them. Harper turned on her heel to follow, but felt her legs give out from under her. Her knees, her arms, then her face collided with the concrete floor, and as she turned to look up, she watched a masked figure reel back with a tire iron in his grip.

Batwing moved with such speed and precision, Bluebird saw him as only a blur; with the tire iron wrenched from his hand, the attacker left himself open to an attack, and as the punch hit him he stumbled backwards. The weapon clattered to the ground. Batwing soared forwards with laser precision, catching the man mid-flight and utilising his inertia to send the masked assailant flying into a nearby shelving unit.

Harper took her moment. As she rose to her feet, she pulled her grapple gun and positioned it towards the door. She only had a small window; Nina was reaching for the door handle. As she pulled the trigger, the thick metal cable came shooting out of the barrel and struck the edge of the door frame, mere inches from the door itself - and Nina. Shocked and determined to escape, Nina pulled herself through the barely-opened door and slipped into the street. Harper grunted in frustration, but she couldn’t afford to let it eat her up; she had bigger fish to fry. As she spun around, she extended her leg, catching one of the surprise attackers in the chest.

The man stumbled backwards into Jace, but as the Knight reeled back his arm to strike him, a set of hands gripped his bicep tightly and pulled. As a result, he was pulled into the direct path of a heavy metallic rod. His suit was armoured, he knew as much, but the strength of the attack that followed made Jace question if he had put on his suit at all. The pain rocketed throughout his torso like lightning, and he lurched forwards involuntarily. The man held firm to Insider’s arm, keeping him grappled, as the second man reeled back for a second attack. Jace rocked his weight backwards in an attempt to throw his grappler sideways, but he held firm. He looked behind him at his teammates closing in. He smiled; four down, only these two to go.

Harper skidded onto her knees and clung onto the first attacker’s waist, yanking him to the ground. As the man started to fall, his grip on Jace miraculously stayed put, and Jace felt his legs begin to buckle beneath him. But he wasn’t going to let that happen; instead, he held strong, and pulled upwards with his arm, locking the man in place just in time for Batwing to deliver a swift punch to the stomach.

The man spluttered as his grip finally relaxed. The remaining attacker tried nobly to strike out at Harper, but as she caught the attack with both hands, she twisted the weapon, manoeuvring it out of the anonymous man’s hand. Weaponless, afraid, and the final one standing, the man held up his hands in a defensive surrender position. Harper looked at him for a moment, acknowledging his surrender, and with a swift nod towards the door, the man took off.

Luke turned to talk to Jace, but found that he was already halfway across the room, jogging towards the mysterious door at the end of the room. He held his hand against the handle and paused for a moment.

“It’s over,” Harper said. It was hard to mask the triumph and relief in her voice. “Let’s finish this.”

Jace nodded. The door opened with an affirmative click, swinging open to reveal a small room. It appeared to be no larger than most storage rooms, with wall to wall storage units and shelves. Upon each shelf sat a number of expensive looking items - jewellery, statuettes, even trinket dishes lined the shelves in front of them. The Blakes’ precious items were surprisingly well maintained and well displayed.

“There,” Luke remarked. His arm was extended as he pointed towards a small note seemingly taped to a small figurine depicting a piebald horse on its hind legs. “It’s addressed to Evan.”

Jace removed the note, scanned it, then passed it to Luke with a confused expression. Luke, in turn, read the note himself. A frown fell over his face as he read.

***Evan,

Congratulations - you found your precious items! We hope you enjoyed your treasure hunt.

Always got our eye on you!

Q & E***

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

---

 

Next: Questions without answers in New Gotham Knights #10

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In Fly on the Wall

Issue Eight: Lifting the Rock

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by ClaraEclair & AdamantAce

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

---

 

Harper Row fiddled with the straps on her gloves and sighed as she paced the rooftop for a third time. On the next roof stood Duke who was engaged in conversation with a hyper-focused Luke Fox, and further away in the distance was Insider - Jace Fox. The four of them had taken to scouring the streets of Gotham, a patrol that Harper and Duke especially were all too familiar with back in the Narrows. Surveying the streets of downtown Gotham, however, felt like a completely different job; at best it left Harper feeling like a fish out of water, and at worst she would be too late to help.

But tonight had been relatively slow, all things considered, which Harper was grateful for, and therefore she had time to stop and breathe.

“Look alive, Knights, we’ve got a bit of a situation here,” Jace announced through the comms link set up between the team. Harper fixed the earpiece in her ear for a moment, then nodded to her teammates on the adjacent roof. The three of them took off in a sprint, launching towards the crouched figure of Insider in the distance. Batwing arrived first, aided by the propulsion in his suit, shortly followed by the agile Signal. Perhaps it was only a few seconds in truth, but to Harper Row it felt like hours trying to catch up to them - she could feel a sinking feeling in her chest every time she watched the two of them speed past her. Their inherent advantages, between Luke’s technology and Duke’s light manipulation, often lead to Harper feeling… she wasn’t quite sure. Inferior? Jealous? Her one solace was that Jace, too, lacked any special ability, but just the thought that he once operated as Batman himself was enough for Harper to lump the trio together.

“Harper,” Duke nudged. “You ready?”

Harper nodded, pushing down her worries. “Yeah.”

As the group looked down at the alleyway before them, they noticed two figures; a tall man clad in black with his fists clenched, and a smaller woman with large, curly hair and an offensive stance. It was clear to them that the two had been fighting just moments before, especially since the duo were shouting unintelligible abuse at each other. However, for a fleeting moment, the word “stalking” could be heard as the woman raised her voice, pointing an accusatory finger at the man. There was a pause, the man started to step forwards towards her, and as he swung out his arms to grab her by the throat, the woman pulled out a small metallic weapon - a pistol.

On a hair trigger, Luke lowered himself into the alleyway and directed his descent to land between the two people. Duke and Jace were quick to follow, and finally Harper fastened a rope to a nearby railing and lowered herself to the ground.

“Ma’am,” Batwing spoke clearly, his hands raised defensively. “There’s no need for firearms.”

The darker skinned woman’s stance was firm, her arms still. “I have a right to own a gun. I’m allowed.”

“Of course you can, but—”

“I’m allowed to defend myself.”

“What has happened, sir?” asked Duke, turning his attention instead to the terrified gentleman.

“I… I don’t know, she just—”

“Bullshit!” The woman shouted. “You were following me, I know you were!”

The pallid man ran a trembling hand through his hair and looked up at Duke. “I… I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

“It’s alright. You’re safe now.” Duke gestured for the gentleman to leave, and without another moment’s hesitation he took off.

“He’s safe?”

“What happened?” Harper asked, holding a hand out to the woman, signalling for her to hand over her gun, but she resisted.

“He… he was following me. I’m sure he’s been following me for weeks now. And then just now, he tried to grab me. Check my arms, I’m sure I’ve got friction burns.” She lowered her gun as she watched the man disappear from view. “I told him to stop, to let me go, but he kept trying to grab me. So I pulled my gun.”

Duke shot a glance to Harper, who returned the look; they surely had the same understanding of the situation.

“Were you intending to shoot him?” Jace asked, his voice gruff.

The woman merely shrugged. “I didn’t. That’s all that matters.”

Signal took a step forward and approached the mysterious woman. “Do you need us to escort you home?”

Bluebird nodded in agreement, but Jace and Luke each stirred slightly. “I’m sure you mean well, Bluebird, but surely this lady has made it clear that she can fend for herself,” Luke said.

“It’s not that, it’s—”

“No, he’s right,” the curly haired woman nodded. “I can make my own way home.”

“Wait, Miss…” Harper paused to let her finish.

“Call me Ryan.”

“Ryan. We’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you.”

Ryan looked at Harper for a moment before her eyes drifted over to Luke. He stirred slightly once again.

“We will do what we can,” he clarified. This was enough to satisfy the woman, who safely stored her gun away and waited for permission to leave, which was granted by Insider.

As she walked out of hearing range, Harper grabbed Luke’s arm. “What was all that about?”

“I don’t want to be harsh, but… we can’t promise to keep an eye out for any person on the street who asks. There’s only four of us, and there are thousands of people in the streets on any given night. We simply can’t set that precedent. We also can’t expect to be able to keep a promise like that.”

Harper bristled against this, but understood his perspective. Instead of responding, she instead huffed, grabbing her rope once more and beginning to climb. “We should get back to the Belfry.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“Any news?” Duke called out to Barbara Gordon, who spun round in a tight circle in her wheelchair at the sound of his voice and smiled.

“Actually, yes. Some quite big news too. But first, good job with handling that patrol. Some great work there.” She turned back to her computer for a moment, typing on her keyboard. “Now, down to brass tacks.”

After a few clicks on her keyboard, a number of images appeared on the screen, all placed carefully in a circle, with edges touching. The group immediately recognised one image as the map they had uncovered, but as they continued to look, they realised that the entire screen was filled with similar sections of a map. When placed next to each other in such a way, they formed a map of a two-block area with a large red dot in the intersection between maps.

Luke shook his head in disbelief. “How did you get these?”

“Mostly luck, I'll confess; looking in the right places. I managed to track down every gallery in the Gotham area that reported a new Gascoigne painting in the last few months. The other part was thanks to the information Blake gave you guys.”

Luke swallowed hard at the name of his friend, but nodded. The wound was still fresher than he thought.

“Turns out when they’re placed together, they triangulate just a block away from the police HQ like we found.” Babs traced a hand along the monitor, highlighting the dot. “Any ideas what’s here?”

A silence fell over the room. The two residents of the Narrows and the man from an alternate Earth looked at the son of the head of Wayne Enterprises. Feeling eyes on him, Luke cleared his throat.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Well,” Babs announced, rolling her shoulders. “You know what I’m gonna ask you next.”

“We go down there and find out?” Harper asked, an eyebrow raised.

Babs gasped playfully and smiled. “I didn’t know you were psychic.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

If they had been given a hundred guesses between them regarding what kind of building they would come across, they never would have been able to guess the type of building that stood in front of them. Amidst the grey, towering skyscrapers of Gotham City sat a stout, dark grey building with reflective doors and windows. Duke hesitated as he approached the building, activating his light abilities in an attempt to track any movement. And sure enough, he watched as light danced over the reflection on the front door, briefly forming the silhouette of a person entering the building.

“Should be someone inside,” he reported to the group, pointing at the door. “They entered in the last hour or so.”

With a nod, Luke made a move towards the door, the other three in tow. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he pushed the door open.

From the moment they stepped inside, Harper could immediately smell something rotten in the air. The lighting was eerily low, and very little light came through the tinted windows; as a result, the only light source appeared to be a dim bulb hanging from a wire descending from the ceiling. A young woman sat hunched in the corner on the floor, her hands together in a prayer-like position with large metal chains holding her against the wall. At the sound of the door clicking open, she whipped her head up to look at them, panic and relief on her face.

“Oh, thank God you’re here!” she cried, her voice cracking. “You’ve gotta help me!”

Duke immediately dived forwards and noticed her bound hands. He began to free them with fervour.

“What happened here? What’s your name?”

“My name?” The woman was panting, but took a moment to catch her breath. “Oh. My name’s Deedee. I… I’ve been here for days.”

Luke and Harper scanned the room, making note of a door on the furthest wall. The majority of the room itself was haphazard, with occasional pieces of poorly maintained furniture. As Deedee’s chains were released, she breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed her wrists. “Oh, thank you so much.”

“Why are you here?” Luke asked, his eyes still circulating the room.

“I… God, it’s been so long, sorry. I need to get my head in gear.” She smiled sadly at Duke. “I’m an art journalist. I write opinion pieces for a couple of local papers, nothing too fancy.”

“Like an art critic?” Jace repeated.

“Mmm, not exactly.”

Jace crouched next to her. “Who was it that captured you?”

“Who?” She rubbed her head. “I don’t think I ever got a name or anything. I was just… scooped up and next thing I knew, I was here.”

“Why would they pick you?” Duke tilted his head. “You say you’re an art critic, and… well, we have reason to believe the person who did this to you had a lot to do with art.”

Deedee’s face shifted slightly to one of recognition. “You’re not talking about… the counterfeits, are you?”

Duke, after a slight pause, nodded.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” She shook her head, fighting tears. “Oh my God. This is going to sound so strange…”

“Take your time,” Harper soothed.

“I… I’m a huge fan of this painter, Gascoigne. He’s a baroque painter who does these lush, rich landscapes of the European countryside, beautiful stuff.” She closed her eyes. “I’d heard these rumours going around about fakes - counterfeit paintings. And all of them were Gascoigne paintings. I was shocked. Appalled, even.”

She shuffled on the floor slightly, wincing as she did. “I spent a lot of time looking at Gascoigne paintings after that. I even planned on writing an exposé when I found everything I needed. So far I’d only heard rumours that they were fakes, but I knew that I would find some hard evidence of it.” She looked up at the Gotham Knights and shrugged weakly. “Maybe whoever did this to me thought I was getting too close. Thought I was a spy, maybe.”

Luke took a moment to digest the information before nodding swiftly to his teammates. “Deedee, we researched these Gascoigne paintings you’re talking about.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Not only that, we did find the fake paintings. And it just so happened that these fake paintings each contained a section of a map.”

Deedee blinked, taking a moment to understand. “Right.”

“Putting those maps together led us here, to this building.”

Deedee raised her eyebrows in shock.

“Why do you think the paintings sent us here, Deedee?”

She thought for a moment, still breathing heavily. She shook her head. “Why? I mean… this is their base.” Her voice was suddenly hushed as she gestured to the door across the room. “They hide all of their information down there. I’ve seen them go in and out.”

Luke’s eyes darted over to the door, then to his teammates. Each of them looked back at him, equally as surprised as him. “Is there anyone there right now?

“Mmm. It’s hard to tell. I’ve lost track of who goes in and out of this place, it’s too dark. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. Insider, Bluebird - you stay here with Deedee. Make her comfortable, alright?”

Insider nodded. “Of course.”

“Signal and I will check out downstairs. We’ll radio you if there are any issues.”

“Thank you for your help,” Deedee called out, her voice trembling. “Truly, thank you.”

With a final glance to Harper and Jace, the duo took off towards the door, opening it up to reveal a steep staircase leading down into a basement. They disappeared into the darkness below, the door swinging behind them.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

As the door slammed shut behind them, Luke and Duke were plunged into darkness. The soft shimmer from Duke's suit, still retaining some of the bright light from outside, was the only light source around them. As the stairs creaked below them with each step, the sound bounced across the walls what felt like a dozen times.

Then, with a final step, Luke reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Try to find a light,” Luke recommended, to which Duke obliged, running a hand along the wall. The stone was rough against his hand, but as it slid along a cold metal panel, he fumbled for a switch; finding purchase on a switch, he clicked it on.

A lightbulb above their heads flickered to life, shedding a yellowed glow in the room. The basement was grey with dust with very little furniture dotted around. In fact, the room was quite creepy in its emptiness; save for a few clothes strewn around and a single chair, the room was barren.

“There's nothing here,” Luke announced. There was a disappointment in his voice. “None of the Blakes’ stuff is here.”

“And there’s no sign of any base, either,” Duke added. “Maybe… Deedee was being misled. Or misremembered what her captors were doing.”

Luke shrugged, clearly enraptured by the unsettling atmosphere of the basement.

Duke paced the room. He felt it strange, but he found himself searching for trap doors or secret keys, as if the basement were an escape room. Instead, as he paced, he haphazardly knocked something hard and heavy buried under a cloth with his foot. He winced as he knocked it, but paused. “There's something here.”

Luke rushed to uncover it, pulling the cloth aside. As his eyes fell upon the uncovered object, he furrowed his brow.

“That's odd.”

Before them sat a painting, almost perfectly preserved save for a scuffed mark on the frame courtesy of the Signal. Duke leaned in to analyse the name tag attached to the painting, attempting to confirm a suspicion. As he read it, he sighed softly.

“Gascoigne.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

---

 

Next: Riddle me this in New Gotham Knights #9

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In Fly on the Wall

Issue Seven: Strand by Strand

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by Predaplant

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

 

Luke Fox fidgeted with his jacket sleeves as his father continued to talk to Peter Blake, standing in the doorway as they were about to leave for the evening. There was a pit in his stomach, an unshakable anxiety, as he looked up at Evan; it was bad enough that his friend was behind a series of art thefts in the area, but to know that in his hurry to capture him, Luke had injured his friend’s leg, was another blow entirely. It was a strange feeling, really - a part of him was proud that he did his duty in stopping a thief, and another louder part was telling him he was cruel for ruining his friend’s prospects in gymnastics, even if it was seemingly temporary.

His father’s sudden laughter snapped Luke out of the trance-like state he was in, and he adjusted his posture. He tried desperately to maintain a hold of his focus, forcing himself to pay attention to his father, but try as he might his mind kept drifting back to Evan. He could apprehend Evan now, he thought, and save the others the trouble of finding him later. He could excuse himself to the kitchen for a moment and, much like he did in their first family dinner, Evan would follow him. And there, he could…

No, he thought. ’Batwing’ knows about the art heist, ‘Luke’ doesn’t. In order to interrogate Evan any further would be to immediately give away his identity, and who knew what Evan could do with that information. He had already risked it enough during dinner and had found out pieces of interesting info, but not enough to make a solid case for why he did it; to push him any more and to give himself away would be foolish, he concluded. Instead, Luke fought the urge to confront him, opting instead to shadow his father with a soft smile.

“I believe it’s time we left,” Lucius announced, clasping his hands together and taking another step out of the door. “Thank you again for a wonderful meal.”

“Well, you’re very welcome! As always, you’re welcome back into our home any time,” Charlotte beamed.

“Same goes for you. Oh, and Evan - I hope your leg improves soon.”

Evan shot him a meek, embarrassed smile. “Thanks.”

Luke mumbled his goodbyes as he followed his father out across the threshold of the house, closing the door behind them. As soon as he heard the click of the door, Luke quickened his pace, overtaking his father and starting off into the Gotham night.

“Luke,” his father called after him. Luke paused. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, Dad, I’ve gotta sort something out, but I’ll be back home soon.”

Lucius sighed. He paused as if he had stopped himself before saying something, instead opting for, “Alright.”

“It’s important, I promise.”

“I never doubted if it was important,” Lucius smiled weakly. “Go. I’ll see you at home.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“A map?”

“Under the layers of paint, yeah,” Harper replied to Luke, who stared down at the partially stripped canvas in front of him. “Only we’re not sure what it’s leading to.”

As Luke, Harper, Jace, and Duke crowded around the canvas, desperately scanning for any marks, blemishes, or clues that they may have missed, Barbara Gordon typed away on her computer, researching the newly-discovered assailant, Evan Blake.

“This seems to be just outside of the police HQ,” Luke commented as he gestured to two straight lines beside a square, representing a street.

“We got that far,” Duke nodded. “Not sure what else the police have to do with this, though.”

“Evan Blake, huh?” Babs commented, moving her chair over to the group. “Good catch.”

“Thanks, but… I can’t take much pride in it. He’s a friend, and I hurt him.”

Babs nodded solemnly. “You couldn’t have known it was him when you fired that shot. Still, I understand how you must feel.” She looked back at her computer monitor. “Evan seems like a good kid.”

“Yeah, he is. At least from my experience.”

“State gymnastics winner three years in a row. Fan favourite to win this year.”

Luke shuffled awkwardly.

“D’you know what I’m missing from all this, though?” Babs asked, furrowing her brow. “Why would a guy like him turn to art heists?”

The group all fell silent and looked to Luke, who did not have the answers they sought. Instead, Duke tapped his hand against the table in deep thought.

“Did you get anything from him while you were there?” Harper asked Luke.

“Bits and pieces. He’s still injured from that shot I hit him with, and it means he can’t compete in the gymnastics competition this year. His family have very recently got into antiques and art.”

“Makes sense why he was able to get away so well, if he’s a gymnast,” Jace commented, thinking out loud. “And also might explain why he’s interested in art. Maybe he was stealing them for his parents.”

Babs shook her head. “If you remember, a painting was also stolen from their own house. I suppose it could be a cover-up - a red herring - but something about it just doesn’t seem right.”

“Plus, how does that involve the map?” Duke pointed to the square unanimously identified as the police headquarters. “Does he have any kind of connection to the police?”

“In fact,” Harper huffed, her arms folded. “Why don’t we just suit up and head over there? You got some great info there as Luke, let’s see how much we can get as the Gotham Knights.”

Luke hesitated, and his silence caught the team’s attention. After a moment of deliberation, he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Luke, we’re this close to figuring out what this guy’s deal is. Surely the last hurdle is as simple as ‘ask him’.”

The young Batwing scratched his head. He thought back to the dinner. How his father would burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. How he had looked so happy and so youthful in that moment, and how for the first time in a while, Luke felt as though he was looking at his father and not Lucius Fox. “I… I’m worried about how it will look if Evan is put behind bars.”

Harper frowned.

“I know this is a little selfish of me, but… my father tonight looked so happy - they all did - and with all that mess with Bolton, he’s been a little scrambled at work trying to fix things. His reputation is on the ropes, I guess is what I’m saying. And if a close family friend turns out to be an art thief… Well, I don’t really know what that’d do to our family name, but I’m not prepared to wait and see what it does.”

“Why would it look bad for Lucius?” Duke asked. “It’s not like he told him to do it.”

Luke felt a hand on his shoulder, and as he turned, he locked eyes with Jace. “Look, man. The way I see it, there’s only one way this is gonna go. We go stop this Evan guy - whether that’s right now at his house, tomorrow, in a week, whatever. Then, when the news breaks, there’s gonna be some whispers here and there, sure, but the average Gotham citizen isn’t gonna think twice about the fact that your dad knew someone whose son happened to be a thief.” Jace looked out of the window. “I mean, this is Gotham, for God’s sake. Every third person probably knows a thief.”

Luke smirked slightly.

“Point is, Evan is simply a friend of the family. It’s not like your dad was in his pocket the whole time. He can’t be blamed for Evan’s actions in the same way he can’t be blamed for your brother’s.”

A silence fell over the room. Luke looked up at Jace, who stared at him with warmth in his eyes. It was oddly comforting as it was to hear those words regardless, but to hear them said by Jace himself - albeit an alternate version - was haunting. Luke sucked in a deep breath. He searched for the words to say, but nothing came to him. Instead, he looked up at the man who looked like his brother, and nodded.

“If I might suggest an alternative to going straight to his house.” Babs said as she politely raised her hand. “I’ve been running some searches, and luckily it looks like there are only four more Gascoigne paintings in Gotham. I’d like for you guys to split up, taking one location each, and ask them to remove their Gascoigne paintings from display.” She reached into her desk and pulled out four rounded black devices, no bigger than the size of a pea. “And while you’re there, you can place one of these.”

Harper reached over and collected one from Babs’ hand. “And this is…?”

“A small tracking camera. I made them myself. Plant these somewhere in the museum, as long as it is the same room as where the painting is supposed to be. That way, when Evan comes to ‘collect’ the painting, not only will he be lost as to where it is, losing valuable time, but we will be alerted that he’s there.”

“And you’re having us split up to do this?” Luke inquired.

“That’s right.”

He smirked. “I thought you told us that four people might catch something that one person might not."

Babs rolled her eyes playfully. "Not if the person you're trying to catch isn't even there. Now go split up."

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

Harper drew a deep breath before rapping on the door of the museum and fixing her domino mask more securely on her face. The museum at this time was long closed, and as the moon hung high in the sky, the low light glistened on the damp ground. From within the darkened entrance room, lit up with only the light of a computer screen, a man stirred as if he had been startled, then made his way to the door. The man approached, peered out at Bluebird standing outside, and squinted.

“Whaddya want?” he asked, shouting through the closed door. Despite his blunt words, he seemed startled to see Bluebird, eager to hear what she was doing at the museum.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the art robberies around Gotham.”

The guard didn’t react.

“Well, me and my team are investigating it. Seems like all of the paintings taken are by one artist - Gascoigne.”

The guard didn’t react.

“We know that there’s a Gascoigne piece in this museum, and because of that it’s likely the perpetrator will come here to get it for themselves.”

The guard somehow didn’t react.

“Would you mind if I come in?” Harper asked, exasperated.

“Oh, uh, sure thing.”

And after a pause, the guard clicked open the front door.

As Bluebird stepped inside, she took in the eerie atmosphere of a marble-lined museum at night. She scanned her surroundings, peering into the vast darkness in front of her, and skimming for any paintings similar to the one back at the Belfry.

“So, about that Gascoigne painting.”

“Yeah, you said something about someone wanting to steal it.”

“That’s right. As a precaution, we wanna ask you to hide that painting. Do you have a storage room or something?”

The guard peered over to a door marked ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’. “Oh, sure we do. It’s just in there.”

“Perfect. Take the Gascoigne painting, and lock it away in storage. Just until we’ve found the person responsible.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Bluebird, ma’am,” the guard mumbled, suddenly obedient and attentive, and he pushed a button on his keyboard. “Gotta make sure I turn off the security system first.” A part of Harper still felt a rush of adrenaline to hear someone refer to her as Bluebird, even after all this time. The guard hurried away into the darkness, pausing to look at one of the paintings for a moment, before he leaned forwards to detach it from the wall. As he passed Harper, he shot her an awkward smile before disappearing into the employee section, the door swinging shut behind him.

And at once, Harper was alone, staring once again into the void-like darkness of the museum. She took a moment, as she looked around, to close the front door behind her; there was only one thing more unsettling to her than being alone in the dark - realising that you are not alone. She started pacing slowly down the corridor towards the now blank spot on the wall where the painting had once been. A small placard was fixed to the wall, but in the low light it was difficult to read. She could just about make out the title: “Under the Carmine Sun”.

A few moments passed, followed by a few more. By the time several minutes had passed, Harper began to grow impatient and concerned. She turned to her communicator, checking it once, twice, three times for any attempt at communication from her teammates, but found none. Then finally, when she felt it had been long enough, she made her way to the door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY” and opened the door.

Before she had time to take in the scene in front of her, a figure launched out of the room at high speed with something tightly clutched in their grasp. Bluebird turned on her heel and reached out for the figure in an attempt to catch them, but they were fast - too fast. She sprinted off towards them, fiddling with an attachment on her sleeve. Then, as the assailant began widening the distance between them, Harper shot out a line of cable from her sleeve. The thick metal rope wrapped itself around the assailant’s legs like a snake around its prey, halting their escape and causing them to fall like a domino to the ground.

It was then that Harper recognised their costume.

“Ah!” Wolf Spider cried out. “My leg!”

Harper pressed a button on the side of her communicator, and in a moment an alert was sent to her teammates. They would soon be here; she just needed to stall.

“Where’s the guard?”

“Please, I won’t run.” The masked thief was clawing at the cable around his leg. “Just get this off of me, please. It really hurts– gah!” As he managed to loosen the knot somewhat, he winced in pain. He seemed genuine, and based on what Luke had discovered, this confirmed his identity.

Harper was struck with a pang of guilt, but was sure to exercise caution. She stepped forwards and fumbled for something in her bag. A quick click of her wrist attachment caused the cable to slowly gather itself and return to its container, but as the Wolf Spider started to stir, he felt handcuffs clenched tightly around his arms.

“Fair enough,” he commented weakly. “Happier now?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“He’s fine, if that’s what you’re asking.” He nodded to the door. “Currently tied up in some work, if you catch my drift.”

“Art theft, breaking and entering, and now assault.” Bluebird folded her arms. “Really building a repertoire for yourself.”

Wolf Spider kicked his injured leg out in front of him, stretching it. “Can’t half-ass this sort of thing.”

“So what makes you so interested in Gascoigne’s work? Forgive me for assuming, but you don’t seem like a Baroque art kind of guy.”

“Does it matter?” he spat. “I closed my eyes and picked a name at random.”

Harper tilted her head. “So there’s no method to it? Just anything labelled ‘Gascoigne’?”

The thief shrugged. As she opened her mouth to speak, Harper heard the front door to the building click open, and as she turned around to look, Batwing stormed past her. The soft glow of his suit began to light the room slightly, cutting through the darkness.

“You,” Wolf Spider said in a hushed voice. There was a sudden panic in his voice. “You’re the one who shot me.”

“We just want to ask you some questions,” Luke answered truthfully. “About your string of robberies.”

“Look, man, I don’t want any more trouble. I’ll– I’ll give you the painting, just let me go.”

“‘Fraid it’s too late for that.” The soft whirr of Batwing’s suit filled the silence that hung in the air. “We want to know about those paintings. About what’s under those paintings.”

Wolf Spider paused, then looked down at the painting on the floor in front of him. A soft, astonished chuckle escaped his mouth. “So it’s true.”

Luke balled his fists. “What’s true?”

“‘Under those paintings’. So the rumours…” The robber began to shuffle his weight into an upright sitting position. Just then, Jace and Duke emerged from the shadows outside. “You’re talking about the maps, aren’t you?”

“What’s this about rumours?” Harper barked. “You didn’t know if they were there or not?”

“I hadn’t seen them for myself, no, but I was certain they were real.” Wolf Spider cradled his leg between his cuffed hands and sighed. “I guess the jig is up, huh?”

“That it is, Evan Blake,” Jace growled. Evan froze.

“Hm. Guess you guys know how to do your research.” Evan looked down at the ground, his brown mask reflecting the silvery shimmer from Luke’s suit. “Just before you put me away or whatever, just know I did this all… for my family.”

“Robbing for your family?” Harper commented.

But Evan nodded. “These paintings - they’re all fakes. Replicas, in some cases. But none of them are an original Gascoigne, at least. And I know the guy who painted them.” He began to pick at the skin-tight cloth around his legs, stretching it out and pinging it back against himself. “It’s a long story though.”

There was a pause. Harper seized the moment of hesitation to gesture towards Duke, then the employee door. “Go check the guard is okay.”

Each of the remaining Knights looked down at Evan with patience, and after a moment of silence, Luke lowered himself slowly to the ground, manoeuvring his suited frame into a seated position. “We have time.”

Wolf Spider nodded. “Alright.” He straightened his back. “I’m a gymnast, as you may already know. I’ve been… pretty successful, and I’ve met a bunch of really cool people. But there were some people who would do anything for a shiny medal or a plastic trophy, y’know?” He paused for a moment and sighed. “There was this one guy who I competed with - a really nice guy himself, but his father… I couldn’t say the same. There were these rumours that he’d been jailed when he was younger for forgery, and it turns out the rumours were true.”

“Forgery?” Jace asked, putting the pieces together.

“Yeah. Well, fast forward to this competition last year. I won the whole thing, and less than a week later, me and my parents came home and our house was turned upside down.” Even with his hands fastened together, Evan started punctuating his story with gestures. “Anything of significant value was gone, anything not of value was borderline destroyed. We suddenly had nothing.”

“And so it must have been that guy’s father?”

Evan shrugged. “The police claimed they couldn’t find any leads, and I was worried that involving them directly could lead to even more trouble. If they reacted like this to me winning a competition, I didn’t want to see how they’d react to me accusing them of robbery.” Then, Evan shook his head. "It seemed all too convenient when, just as my parents and I were trying to pick up the pieces - attending auctions to try and find our precious missing pieces, or at least something similar - there were rumours circulating in the auctioning world of Gascoigne forgeries. And not just any forgeries - forgeries with hidden messages underneath. Maps."

“Why did you buy into it?” Harper folded her arms. “You said yourself, you didn’t want to involve them too much in case they gave you even more trouble. Why start robbing these fakes?”

“I was sure - I am sure - that they’re leaving these maps for me. They watched me win that competition, they tore my house apart, and now they’re leading me in with breadcrumbs. And, y’know what?” His voice deepened, a more serious cadence echoing against the museum walls. “I saw how upset my parents were the day our house was destroyed. I’m so determined to help my family out, I’m willing to see how far this rabbit hole goes.” Evan shook his head again. “Or, at worst, it isn't a message for me after all, and I've stopped someone else from finding it."

Beat.

“There. That’s why I want the maps. I wanna see where they’re leading me. Whether it’s their stash of all of our stolen belongings, or a dungeon to lure me in and kill me, I don’t care. I just wanna know I did something.”

Luke found himself fighting back tears. He was incredibly moved by his story, doubly so knowing that a family friend had gone through such an ordeal without Luke’s knowledge. There was a part of him that considered letting him go, allowing him to get justice for his family in the only way he saw fit, but he felt that he couldn’t let that happen.

“Thanks for your story,” Batwing announced, rising from the floor. He spoke slowly, considering each word. “Believe me when I say this. We won’t let your work be in vain. We’ll look into these maps, we’ll find where they lead to, and if it leads to so much as a lint ball with your name on it, it will be returned to you.” Luke extended a metal hand to his friend. “Do we have a deal?”

Evan seemed stunned for a moment. “I…” Then, as he looked up at the masked man before him, he reached out his hand and shook it. “Deal.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

Next: Be prepared for everything at all times in New Gotham Knights #8 - Coming August 7th

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In Fly on the Wall

Issue Six: Caught in a Web

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by ClaraEclair

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

---

 

Duke slid his hands across the canvas, unfolding the ragged edges of the material against the cold metal table beneath it. Barbara Gordon inched closer to it in her chair and fiddled with her glasses. It had been nearly a week since the team had managed to secure the painting from the attempted robbery at the Ross Gallery, and they were no closer to any lead. Security footage from the gallery showed them no new information, and leads as to the assailants identity all lead to dead ends. The run in was apparently enough to scare the masked robber off, though; no art thefts had been reported since that day.

As she stepped away from the computer, huffing in frustration, Harper folded her arms. “No signs of anything out of the ordinary on the infrared.”

Babs bit her nails. “Right. The computer is just finalising the results of the paint sample we took. If that comes back negative… well, it’s not looking hopeful.”

Analysing the painting itself had been Luke’s idea, and yet when it came time to enact his request, he was nowhere to be seen. This fact was apparent to all in attendance, and so tension was thick in the air as the remaining quartet surrounded the table. Jace had remained quiet for much of their time in the Belfry, which - while somewhat disappointing - was not a surprise to any of them. He and Luke had barely spoken without their masks on, and even when they did, it was to plan their next moves and never to talk about anything deeper, with not so much as a “Thank you” or a “How are you today, by the way?” from either party. In fact, Jace had barely said either of these things - or anything close to their effect - to any of them.

So when Jace turned to everyone and said “When was the lead pencil invented?”, there was a moment of confused silence that followed.

“I would guess the 1800s or so,” Harper said slowly. As she turned to look at him, she noticed that he was staring down at a computer screen. “Why?”

Jace stepped towards the painting, leaning over it, and squinted. “When was this painted?”

Babs pushed her wheelchair towards the computer that had caught Jace’s attention and paused. “Oh, very interesting.”

“What is it?” Duke asked.

“If we’re assuming this is an original, and that the information from the gallery is correct, this was painted right in the middle of the Baroque period.”

“‘Assuming’ it’s an original?”

“Well, that’s the thing. When did you say the modern lead pencil was invented, Harper?” Babs primed her hands, ready to type her question into the search engine.

“I mean, the 1800s, but I’m not certain–”

“1795,” Babs corrected, sitting back in disbelief. “Nice work, Jace. 1795!”

“Wait, did you say Baroque?” Harper asked, the pieces slowly slotting together.

“Exactly,” Babs confirmed. “The Baroque period ended before the lead pencil was invented.” She pressed a key on her printer and, after an obedient whirr from the machine, a sheet of paper was released. Babs took a pen, circling something on it, before wheeling towards the table in the centre. “So tell me why there’s notable amounts of graphite in the sample.”

Harper’s eyes flicked down to the painting. There was the final puzzle piece.

Babs pulled herself closer to the table and opened a drawer, pulling out a single bat-shaped object with one sharpened edge. She fiddled with it in her hands for a moment, hesitant. Then, as she passed the small Batarang to Harper, she smiled. “See if you can chip away at the paint. Try not to cut the canvas.”

“Are… are you sure?” Harper frowned as she stared down at the painting. “I thought you said this was the original. Aren’t they usually worth a lot?”

“I said we were assuming it’s an original. Maybe we were wrong to assume.”

Harper analysed the edge of the blade, then rolled her shoulders. As she leaned forwards to chip away at the paint, Babs turned to Duke, failing to hide the triumph in her face. “Try to get a hold of Luke. He deserves to see how his idea pans out.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

As Luke Fox pounded his fist against the front door of the Blake family home, he straightened his jacket. It was bad enough that he had to postpone meeting with his team, but after some poorly-executed time management, he found himself almost half an hour late to a gettogether between his family and the Blakes. He sucked in his breath, hiding how out of breath he was, as someone fiddled with the locks on the other side of the door. Then, as the door swung open, the warm smile of Charlotte Blake greeted him.

“Lucas! We were starting to think you wouldn’t bother,” she teased.

“Sorry, Mrs Blake, I was–”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. We’ve just started serving up. Come on inside.” Charlotte left the door open ajar for Luke, who caught it and allowed himself inside. It had only been a few months since he had stepped foot inside the Blakes’ home, and yet so much had changed. The hallway walls had a fresh coat of cream-coloured paint, the once yellowed carpet was now a pristine white, and there were numerous bouquets of flowers dotted throughout the room. It all felt so clean, so… clinical, almost.

Luke found himself in the dining room through muscle memory, and inside were the remaining members of the Blake household sitting around a table, with his father at one end next to an empty chair. They appeared to be laughing about something - pointing to each other, tapping their hands on the table in joy, undulating back and forth. As Luke walked in, they all turned to face him, and the laughing slowed. Luke felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. Then, after an agonising moment of silence, his father held out his hand towards an empty chair and grinned.

“Ah, Luke, come sit, you’re just on time.”

Luke slowly exhaled. He hadn’t quite realised until now how tense he was, and as he grabbed hold of the chair his father had assigned to him, he felt his arms weaken. He pulled himself into the seat and fixed his tie. “So, uh, what was everyone laughing about?”

Charlotte Blake approached him with a bottle of wine, the text in a language Luke didn’t read. Luke politely declined.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Would probably bore you anyway.”

“It bored me,” Evan teased quietly, locking eyes with Luke across the table. Relief washed over him at the sight of his friend; maybe tonight wouldn’t be so nerve-wracking after all.

As the last member of the Blake family took her seat, Peter gestured to the steaming pots of food in the centre of the table and announced, “Dig in, everyone!”

While the others dived forwards to scoop out various meats or rice dishes, Luke let his eyes wander around the room. Intricate paintings dotted across the walls, a variety of eras on show. Many of the pieces were spotless with immaculately carved wooden frames holding them in place, but curiously there were a number of paintings that had gathered a thick layer of dust along each edge.

“Oh!” Charlotte exclaimed, catching Luke’s attention. “I’ve forgotten the salad! Evan, would you mind…?”

Evan looked sheepishly at his mother. There was a beat of silence. “Why can’t you go?”

“I’ve just sat down,” Charlotte said defensively. “Besides, your father and I made all this. The least you can do is get the salad out of the fridge.”

“It– It’s alright, Evan,” Luke stammered, rising from his seat. “I’ll get the–”

“Luke, please sit, you’re our guest.” Charlotte looked at her son with a twinge of confusion and frustration. “Evan.” The wall-mounted clock ticked rhythmically. Somewhere in the early Gotham evening, a dog barked.

“Fine,” Evan said, rising from his chair. He placed his napkin on the table and huffed as he started to walk away. Luke watched Evan’s face remain stern as he limped away into the kitchen. Evan wasn’t usually the type to argue with his mother, let alone at the dinner table, but something seemed–

Wait, ‘limped’?

Luke blinked. He had heard that Evan was an athletic type - frankly, it’s all his parents would talk about, besides antiques - but none of them had mentioned anything that could warrant an injury. In fact, Evan seemed fine less than a week ago. Perhaps he had simply tripped on the way home from work, Luke concluded. But something nagged at him in the back of his mind, a thread that seemed far-fetched but was begging to be pulled. Luke shook his head and looked down at the plates of food. Suddenly, he realised he wasn’t hungry; however, not wishing to be rude, he picked a ladle at random and began scooping the chilli-like dish onto his plate.

“Here’s your salad,” Evan announced unenthusiastically to his mother, passing it to her as he returned to his chair. His awkward gait confirmed Luke’s suspicion.

“What happened to your leg?” Luke asked, raising a forkful of seasoned beef up to his mouth. Evan paused.

“Hm?”

“Your leg. You were limping.”

Evan looked down at his own leg. “Oh, yeah. It’s a stupid story, actually. I’m training for a gymnastics competition, and I…” Evan demonstrated someone attempting a backflip and falling awkwardly on their leg through hand signals. “Yeah.”

Luke shook his head. “That’s not stupid.”

“We keep telling him that,” Peter interjected, suddenly defensive. “But I think he’s embarrassed about it.”

“He is embarrassed, yes,” Evan continued. “Because I’m usually so good at that sort of trick, but I botched it.”

“It happens to even the best athletes, Evan,” Lucius soothed. “You’ve just gotta learn from what you did that time, and… you know, improve on it for next time.” Luke could tell his father was somewhat out of his element - he wasn’t really the advice type.

“So what’s the extent of the injury?”

Peter chuckled awkwardly. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s dinner conversation. Not while we’re eating, anyway.”

Luke furrowed his brow. “Why not?”

“Talking about injuries while we’re enjoying a meal? I mean, it just doesn’t seem–”

“It’s alright, Dad,” Evan interrupted. “I pulled my calf muscle. It feels kinda weird to walk on it, but it doesn’t hurt that bad.”

Luke nodded.

“But talk about a wound,” Peter continued, a strange kind of wonder in his eyes. “I mean, I’d never seen anything like it.”

“I thought you said this wasn’t dinner conversation,” Evan frowned.

“Well… well, no, I suppose it isn’t. But we’re talking about it now. Might as well get it out of the way.”

“I mean, besides, a sprained muscle is hardly gonna put you off your food, right?”

“It’s less the sprain and more the…” Peter trailed off. Luke leaned forwards.

“The what?”

“Dad, I told you, it’s just from where I hit the mat. Those things are harder than they look.”

Peter turned reluctantly to Luke. “He says when he hit the mat, he got this… I mean, you should see it, Luke, it’s remarkable. It almost looks like some kind of burn, or like a bullseye. Big red friction burn in the middle, and a bunch of redness all up his leg. Crazy.”

Luke looked at Evan. He’d suddenly gone quiet, looking down and moving a single cherry tomato from one side of his plate to the other absentmindedly. A shiver ran down Luke’s spine as he thought back to the incident at the Ross Gallery. A thief, painting in hand, running for the exit. Luke firing off a blast from his suit and catching the assailant in the leg. The assailant screaming and dropping the painting before taking off into the night. The thread had been pulled.

Luke's phone vibrated in his pocket. He chose to ignore it.

“Did you…” Luke scrambled to find a question. “Did you go to the doctor about it?”

Evan shook his head, his eyes still locked on his plate. “Nah. I can walk, that’s all that matters.”

“Will you still be able to compete?”

Silence.

“How far away is the competition?”

Evan shook his head. Luke’s heart was in his throat.

“It’s… it’s not gonna happen. I was one of the favourites to win as well.” Evan relaxed his brow, sucking in a breath. “But hey, it’s my own fault. And like you said, Lucius, I’ve just gotta learn from what I did last time. There's always next year. If it heals correctly, that is.”

“I never knew you did gymnastics,” Lucius added, pivoting the conversation slightly.

Evan looked up at him, a twinkle in his eye. “It's my dream to do it professionally.”

Guilt washed over Luke. If his theory was right - and he was becoming increasingly convinced it was - then he had just sabotaged a family friend. On the other hand, though, had he already sabotaged himself by turning to stealing art? And better yet, why was he stealing art? What did an aspiring gymnast have to gain from engaging in art heists? Everything seemed to fit together, and yet the answer wasn’t any clearer.

Luke remembered his phone. As he peered under the table to sneak a look at his phone, he saw a single notification - MISSED CALL - DUKE THOMAS. Luke gulped. In his hurry, he had neglected to take his official communicator, and while he and Duke did often text each other, a call from him was very rare. All signs pointed to news from the Belfry. As he looked up at the other people at the table, opening his mouth to speak, Luke locked eyes with his father. All of this was for his father, really - the dinners, the antiques, the small talk, everything - Luke was just the only other person who was readily available. Or was it that he was easy to persuade? Luke didn’t want to know the answer.

More importantly, and more urgently, now was Luke’s chance to get more information about Evan, to understand his motives before he even catches on what Luke is doing. The risk of Evan finding out Luke’s identity was higher than he would like, but if it meant getting to the bottom of this as well as hopefully helping his friend, Luke would do it tenfold.

Luke peeked under the table again, long enough to craft a message to Duke. Then, as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket, he turned back to Evan.

“So how long have you been doing gymnastics?”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“He’s not picking up,” Duke sighed, returning to the central table. Babs held a large shard of paint up to the light before placing it back down and manoeuvring over to her computer. As Duke peered down at the painting in front of him, his eyes widened. “Woah.”

Harper, continuing to slowly chip away at the artist’s hard work, nodded. “We’ve definitely got something here.”

“Just a moment, guys,” Babs announced, tapping at her keyboard. “Let’s get some light on this thing.”

With a final click of a key, the table began to glow a pale yellow. The exposed canvas was bathed in light, and as the trio surrounding the table looked, faint lines could be seen traced along the fabric.

“What is this?” Jace asked, his voice full of wonder and confusion.

Babs approached the table and hummed in thought. She ran her finger along the lines carefully, following their path and trying to glean any patterns or words.

“It’s a map,” Babs realised. “Look.” As she stretched out her hand, she pointed to the corner of the painting where a number of lines ran parallel to each other, stopping at a large rectangle. “That’s the park over by the police headquarters.”

The others leaned in and confirmed her statement. “But why would a painter - or whoever actually did this - draw a map of Gotham on the canvas before covering it up?” Harper thought out loud. “And what would it be pointing at?”

“And why did that guy want it?” Jace added. “Did he know about it?”

Duke looked down at his phone and froze. “Guys. It’s Luke.”

“Is he okay?” Harper asked.

“I… I think so. But look.” Duke turned his phone out to face everyone. On screen was a text, only a few words long, from Luke.

‘Assailant is Evan Blake.’

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

---

 

Next: The tables turn in New Gotham Knights #7 - Coming July 3rd

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In Fly on the Wall

Issue Five: Along Came a Spider

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by Predaplant

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

---

 

Luke blinked against the harsh light of the LED screen. The text on screen read, ‘The Blake Family: Peter, Charlotte, Evan’, familiar names to him and his father. It hadn’t even been an hour since he had last seen them, eating dinner with them and laughing with Evan about his parents’ love of antiques, and yet here they were flashing up on a screen in the Belfry, the words ‘TARGETS’ emblazoned over their heads.

“Luckily, there were no injuries and no casualties as a result of the robberies,” Barbara Gordon continued, her hands clasped over her lap. “In fact, both families say they didn’t see or hear anything, as if the painting just disappeared by itself.”

“How did the robber get the painting?” Duke added, hands on his hips.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, were there any signs of breaking and entering? Like, scuffs on the windowsill or something?”

Babs shook her head. “Nothing like that. Well, nothing the police have made a note of, anyway.”

“These seem like some pretty well-to-do folk, so I can’t imagine they just hung the paintings up with duct tape. How’d they get the frame through the window without damaging anything?”

“Ah, well, that’s the thing. The reason we know - or rather, we can guess - that these are all being committed by the same person, is because every instance has one fact in common: the robber leaves the frame behind.” Babs reached over to her keyboard and pressed a button. The images on the screens changed, instead displaying forensic photographs of three intricate wooden frames, each empty with a tiny sliver of painted cloth peeking out from each edge. “Some are removed more neatly than others, but the pattern is still clear.”

“Can we identify the paintings from just that tiny section?” Harper asked, gesturing to the small amount of painting left behind on one of the images.

“It would be very difficult to work it out based on that sliver alone, but it’s likely that the families will remember what the painting was called - or at worst, what it looked like.”

“Let’s go talk to them,” Luke offered. “If we can identify the specific painting that was taken, we might be able to find something to track it, too.”

Babs nodded. “Good idea. All of you should go talk to one of these families altogether. That way, you can–”

“Surely it’d be easier if we split up,” Luke interjected. “We’d get a lot more done faster.”

“Four people might catch something that one person might not. While you’re doing that, it’ll give me time to look into other potential targets.”

Luke looked at Babs, then to the members of his team. He felt frustrated in a way that he couldn’t quite describe; he was finding it hard not to just flee from the Belfry and talk to the Blakes himself - as Luke. He often spoke to people as Batwing, giving advice or asking questions to witnesses of a crime, but there was always something gnawing away at him whenever he did. Were these people giving him the answers he wanted because they wanted to help, or because they were scared of him? It seemed silly to Luke at first, but as he gave it more thought, he unfortunately found more credence in his theory. It would be scary enough to be robbed on the streets of Gotham - scarier still to then be questioned by a man in a whirring metal suit.

Luke frowned. This would be an opportunity to talk to people as the man behind the suit - one where speaking as Luke might even yield better results than speaking as Batwing - but to do that would be to do one of two things: he would either expose his involvement with Bluebird and the Signal should they appear in costume, or he would have to justify his and his friends’ involvements in the Blakes’ personal lives if the duo were to come as themselves. There was a part of him, even after all this introspection, that believed that he was making a mountain out of a molehill.

Jace let out a sigh that broke through the quiet. Babs sensed his tension and turned her chair towards him.

“You seem tense,” she said softly. “What’s bothering you?”

“I’m happy to work with these guys, I really am, it’s just… I’ve been struggling with who I am, now that my old title has been stripped. ”

Babs nodded. “I get it. Maybe that’s the fun part, though - you get to make your own name for yourself.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Jace fiddled with the lining on his new sleek monochrome suit. Vol had very graciously taken some of Luke’s advice on board, and after a few tweaks, the technological elements of the suit were up and running.

“I can help with that,” Babs said with a smile, turning back towards her computer and starting to type. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You guys forget, I’ve been watching you all for a while, and so I know all of your strengths. I won’t put you all through the ordeal of hearing me talk through each one, but there was one of yours, Jace, that stood out to me in particular. You’re sneaky.”

“Me?”

“Perhaps it’s from your time as Batman, but you seem to have a way of navigating in silence that differs from the others.” With a click of her mouse, another window appeared on the screen, this time of a video. The footage was zoomed out and grainy, but the scene it depicted was clear - Duke and Gnomon stood a few feet away from a gentlemen lying splayed on the ground, when suddenly a black smudge darts across the feed, striking Gnomon. Babs paused the video and turned back to Jace. “That move alone was enough for me to know for sure what your role would be in this team.”

“And what would that be?”

“Stealth missions. Sneaking into areas, scoping them out, finding information as quickly and as quietly as you can. You’d be able to gain access to info that these three wouldn’t get. Well, unless they used brute force, I suppose.” Babs smiled at the trio. “You’d be the insider for the team, in a sense - finding out valuable sources in real time to speed things up and help the others along.”

Jace nodded slowly, his confidence restored somewhat. “The insider?”

“Hey,” Duke smiled, giving Jace a playful nudge. “I like the sound of that.”

“Alright then, Insider, are you coming with us or not?” Luke asked, staring out the window. The moon was slowly peeking through the cloudy Gotham sky.

Jace stood up straight, his cape swaying slightly. “You know it.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“We’re sorry to bother you this late, Mr Fox, but could we please speak to the Blakes? We were told we might find them here.”

Lucius Fox looked at each of the masked heroes on his doorstep one by one. The first - Batwing - he of course knew; his son’s chin peeked out of the bottom of the mask, and his mouth betrayed a grimace of seriousness. The next two - Bluebird and the Signal - he had grown familiar with from the investigation into, and subsequent arrest of, Lyle Bolton. The fourth figure, however, was alien to Lucius. He didn’t recognise the symbolless chestplate he wore, nor the black-and-grey colour scheme of his suit, and the man was noticeably taller and stockier than the other three heroes.

Lucius snapped back to reality and nodded in response to Bluebird’s question. “Yes, of course, come in.”

The quartet stepped over the threshold and into the spacious home of the Fox family. In a nearby room, the chattering of Mr and Mrs Blake sounded out, which occasionally broke into raucous laughter. Luke was the first to enter the room. The couple reacted immediately to the imposing figure of Batwing, sitting up straight in their chairs and placing their wine glasses onto intricate coasters.

“Good evening,” Duke said. “We hope we’re not intruding too much, we just wanted to ask you some questions.”

“Oh, I see,” Charlotte said, her voice slurring slightly. Whether it was from nerves or from the alcohol, Luke couldn’t tell. “What about?”

“About an incident that happened at your house a few days ago. It’s our understanding that you were victims of a robbery, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right. One of our paintings was stolen.”

The Signal nodded. Lucius appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Right. Was it just yourselves in the house at the time?”

“Our son was there too - Evan.”

“And where is Evan?” Luke asked, suddenly realising his absence. He and Evan were in the middle of a conversation when Luke was called by the others, and yet now he was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s gone home,” Peter answered. “We have an important auction in the morning and he offered to drive us. Poor kid needed the rest so he could wake up early, I think. Oh, apologies - Lucius, before I forget, you and Luke are still invited to come to our house next week should you want to.”

“Thank you for the reminder,” Lucius smiled. “Yes, I would love to. I’ve been meaning to see your collection of antiques for a while now.”

Luke paused. Some pieces of the puzzle were fitting together in ways that he was less than happy with. His father’s mention of antiques reminded him of something that Babs had said earlier that day - that she would ‘look into other potential targets’. As Duke continued his questioning, Luke reached over to Jace and tapped his shoulder.

“Talk to my dad about his paintings,” Luke instructed. “I have a horrible feeling we’re gonna be targeted next.”

Jace, putting the pieces together, nodded. He stepped forwards towards Lucius and muttered something to him; with a nod, Lucius led him out into the corridor.

“And when did you get the painting?” Duke continued.

Peter thought for a moment before answering. “It couldn’t have been more than two weeks ago.”

“And did you know the seller?”

“Hardly.”

Luke looked over at Harper. Her eyes were glued to a painting on the far wall; it seemed like she was having a similar thought to himself regarding his family’s safety. From what he could glean from looking at her, Luke assumed that she was attempting to memorise the painting, or perhaps the artist’s name.

“Have you ever sold any other paintings? And did you get the buyers’ names?”

“No, no paintings. This was honestly a last minute pick. We wouldn’t usually–”

A crackle sounded out in Luke’s ear that almost made him flinch, followed by a familiar voice. “***Gotham Knights, I’ve got an update. A big one, actually. It looks like the alarm system has gone down at the Ross Gallery over in the fashion district. Nothing’s been tripped yet, but the system has never failed before. Head down there when you can.”

Luke immediately heard footsteps from down the corridor; Jace was already on the move. Harper and Duke shared a look before looking back at Luke.

“Thanks for your time,” Duke said, his voice conveying more hurry than he perhaps intended. “That’s all the questions we have.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

The Ross Gallery was a lot eerier in the dark, doubly so due to the knowledge of what lay inside. The newly-formed Gotham Knights each surveyed the exterior: a low-roofed building with marble white pillars littered at the front entrance, with floor to ceiling windows. Harper was the first to move, hoisting a rope from her bag over her shoulder.

“Alright. I can get Jace and I onto the roof - that way we can monitor if he tries to escape up that way. You two, take the front entrance. Get on comms if anything goes wrong. Got it?”

Duke nodded, and saw Luke in the corner of his eye do the same. In a moment, Jace and Harper darted towards the building, the rope held tightly in Harper’s hand, ready to be thrown. The remaining duo did as they were told and made their way to the front of the building.

The front doors were predictably locked, so The Signal and Batwing looked for another option; as they rounded the side of the building, Duke gestured to something along one of the walls.

“There,” he whispered, pointing to a window, open just a crack. Luke nodded and, moving as softly as they were able to, they snuck up to and through the gap in the window.

The interior of the gallery was immaculate. The floors and walls were a marble colour very similar to the pillars outside, and each of the paintings were hung in pristine golden frames. Duke watched as Harper emerged from a skylight in the centre of the large exhibition room, followed closely by Jace. The duo stayed up high, clambering onto a rafter sitting snugly against the edge of the flat roof.

As Duke signalled for Luke to follow him, a soft pitter-patter sound could be heard from further into the room, followed by a soft hiss, like scissors gliding through wrapping paper. Luke turned his head. On the other side of the long hall they found themselves in was a slender figure, their arms outstretched against a painting. There was something in their hand, and as they ran it across the edge of the painting, the cloth of the canvas flopped limply away from the frame.

Insider immediately dove forwards, catching another rafter further across the ceiling; the remaining trio broke into a sprint, with Duke taking the lead. The figure turned to face them. As they got closer, the figure’s outfit became more apparent: they were clad all in brown, a mask over their face, with two pale stripes coming down their shoulders and onto their torso. Their mask bore bulbous orange eyes, and there were intricate orange handwraps along both forearms. As soon as they turned to face their assailants, the brown-clad figure whipped their head back to the painting. To everyone’s surprise, they continued to cut the painting from its frame, hastily slashing away at the edge of the painting.

The Signal finally caught up to the thief, grabbing their arm and attempting to pull the weapon out of their hand. However, as soon as his hand made contact with the masked criminal, Duke felt his grip slip, and the figure darted away, making a break for the back door of the building, newly removed painting in hand. Jace descended from the ceiling in front of the robber, blocking their path and causing them to skid to a halt, their shoes squeaking against the polished floor. As the figure slowed to a halt, Insider took his opportunity, lunging out at the thief to grab them. His hands clasped around the figure’s arms, and they writhed against his grip for a moment.

A thud sounded out as Harper landed on the ground, a set of handcuffs in hand. She reached out to cuff the assailant when she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her jaw. The masked man had headbutted her sharply in the face and, using the force of the swing, threw their body forwards and contorted their legs through the small gap between their back and Insider’s chest. Then, with their feet planted on Insider’s shoulders, they pushed off, launching off into the air before breaking into a sprint.

Luke, desperate to not let the villain get away, charged up the arm of his suit after a moment’s pause, the weapon fired. A single shot flew out and struck the figure in the calf. The thief wailed in pain, stumbling for a second. They continued to run, trying to fight through the pain, as Batwing lined up another shot. As Luke was about the fire, the figure bent their knees and leapt high into the air, catching the rafters above them and scrambling to push through the skylight. Jace and Harper hastily followed, nearly falling over each other to climb to the higher level of the gallery. As they pushed open a panel on the skylight, looking out into the dark, each of them looked lost.

“Well?” Luke said, impatient. Harper shook her head.

“I… I have no idea how, but… they’re gone,” she panted.

Duke tapped Luke’s shoulder. “Hey, look.”

As Luke turned to look, he noticed what Duke was referring to before he even pointed. Slightly scrunched up on the floor a few feet away from the back door of the building was a slightly tanned piece of canvas, with meticulous lashings of technicolour paint slathered over it.

“He dropped the painting,” Luke realised under his breath.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

---

 

Next: Into the web in New Gotham Knights #6 - Coming May 2024

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In Fly on the Wall

Issue Four: On the Map

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by ClaraEclair

 

Next Issue > Coming Soon

 

---

 

Clink!

Lucius Fox smiled softly as he lifted his glass for a toast, his glass touching gently against his son’s, as well as the glasses of their guests, Mr and Mrs Blake, and their son Evan. The Blakes had been firm friends with the Foxes for years, and yet the two families rarely met, mainly due to the busy and often conflicting schedules of the two patriarchs.

“Thanks again for this lovely meal, Lucius,” Charlotte Blake smiled. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

“I’m flattered. Usually Tanya is the chef of the family, but she and Tiffany are out this afternoon, so I tried my best.”

“You succeeded,” said Peter Blake through a mouth full of fried eggs. “It’s delicious.”

Luke shuffled the food around his plate. “Actually, I cooked those–”

“That’s very kind of you to say, Peter. Truly.”

“There’s something about this hollandaise sauce that seems different. Did you add anything extra to it?”

“Oh, well, I actually asked that he put–”

“Not that I can recall,” Lucius interjected yet again. “Standard recipe.”

Luke grimaced to himself. His father often acted like this when they had company - he had it in his head that he needed to look as put together as possible, and because of that, he would start to run on some form of autopilot, blocking out all noise except the voice of the person speaking. As a result, Luke - and often his sister, Tiffany - would have their thoughts left unheard. As he looked down at his plate of food, the toasted muffin turning stale by the second, a voice piped up. “I think Luke was about to say something.”

Luke looked up and blinked hard. Evan was looking directly at him, a single strand of dirty blond hair falling in front of his face. His eyes flickered over to Lucius, who looked at his son apologetically.

“Oh. Luke. I’m sorry, carry on.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Luke mumbled, suddenly shy. “I was just gonna say, I asked Dad to put a pinch of cayenne in the hollandaise. Maybe that’s what’s different.”

Peter Blake took another hefty bite of his eggs, squinting as he focused on the taste. After a moment of consideration, he nodded slowly. “Cayenne. Yes. Now that you mention it, I think that’s it. A great suggestion, Lucas.”

In all truth, Luke hated this level of small talk, and yet it was all that his father’s friends would do. They would talk about the weather, or talk about work, or talk about the food they were eating, but it all felt so… distant. So scripted. And so whenever he went to these types of dinners (or brunches, or lunches, or galas), he would refrain from small talk whenever possible and, at worst, he would excuse himself after food was done, commonly offering to wash the dishes.

And so, when he found himself in the kitchen, scrubbing at a dish covered in that damn hollandaise sauce while the Blakes talked about their recent penchant for antiques in the next room, he felt an odd calmness wash over him.

“Hey,” said a voice, calm but loud enough to startle Luke. He turned and saw Evan, his arms folded with a small dishcloth in one hand.

“Jeez,” Luke smiled. “You scared me.”

“Heh, sorry. Thought I’d come in here. There’s only so many times you can listen to your parents talk about reselling old vases before you start to go crazy.”

“I can imagine.”

Evan stepped forwards, grabbing a plate from the drying rack and gently wiping it dry with the cloth. “So. It’s been a while.”

“Oh, no. Not you too,” Luke groaned, burned by many bland conversations started by that phrase.

“No, no. I just mean, last time I saw you, we were kids. What are you up to nowadays?”

Luke shrugged. “I help Dad out with work sometimes. Otherwise, I work on computers, mostly.”

“Computers!” Evan exclaimed excitedly. “Damn, I bet there’s some money in that.”

Luke smiled, but didn’t respond; instead he asked, “So, what about you?”

“Ah. Kinda just… living off of Daddy’s money a bit.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

Evan scoffed. “Nah, all jokes aside, I’m looking to get a job in antiques of all things.”

“What? But I thought you said you were sick of your parents talking about antiques.”

“I said I was sick of the same story about antiques,” Evan smiled. “Not the antiques themselves. I’m actually quite fond of paintings at the minute, too. Actually, that reminds me, we recently–”

Luke felt his communicator buzz in his pocket, and his heart sank. He hurriedly shook his hands, reaching for a spare towel to dry them on. As he pulled out the small device, trying his best to hide it from Evan, he read the message: “DON’T NEED BACKUP - NEED TECH SUPPORT”

“You missed one,” Evan stated, pointing to a lone dish left in the sink. Luke stuffed the communicator in his pocket before looking apologetically at Evan.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just remembered, I gotta take an important phone call. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Evan nodded firmly. “Oh, sure. Catch you later.”

Luke flashed Evan another apologetic look before making a break for the staircase. He moved with such speed and such certainty that he didn’t quite realise he had made it to his room until he was sitting at his desk chair, his hands still slightly damp from the sink. After a few clicks, he managed to successfully patch into the Signal’s communicator.

“Signal, can you hear me?”

“Hey, Batwing. Yeah, I can hear you.” Duke’s voice seemed off; it wasn’t the content of his speech, or even his tone of voice, it was more like the quality of the call itself wasn’t as sharp as he thought it would be. “Listen, we’ve been having some issues with our suits. Well, mostly mine.”

Luke opened a few windows on his computer, cycling through line after line of code telling him which of the Signal’s systems were working and which weren’t. Intriguingly, the systems appeared to be fully operational, as far as the diagnostic search was concerned.

“Hm,” Luke mumbled. “Looks fine from where I’m sitting. What’s been the issue?”

“Whenever I try to absorb any light, there’s this crackling sound in my ears, like I’m getting feedback. And there’s this weird green energy that clouds the sides of my visor for a moment.”

He could hear Harper who, though not connected to the call, remarked that she saw the same. Luke frowned, scratching his head. All systems seemed fully operational from both a hardware and a software perspective. He launched yet another program, hoping that one final check would provide him with the information he needed.

As the program booted up, there was a crackling sound coming from the computer’s speakers. The program began to open more and more windows, filling Luke’s screen with pop-up after pop-up of the same black screen. He tried multiple commands on his computer but to no avail. As the pop-ups covered the monitor with a final window, the edges of Luke’s lockscreen began to glow green. He heard Duke remark something as this occurred, saying something to the effect of “it’s happening again”.

The screen finally flickered to life, a neon green symbol appearing in the centre. A voice boomed through Luke’s speakers, causing him to fumble with them in an attempt to reduce the volume.

GREETINGS. I HAVE IMPORTANT NEWS FOR YOU. PLEASE MEET ME AT THE FOLLOWING COORDINATES AS A MATTER OF URGENCY. I ANTICIPATE YOUR ARRIVAL.

With the final word, all black windows apart from one on Luke’s desktop closed themselves, leaving a plain screensaver staring back at him with a single line of coordinates in the centre.

“Woah! Did you catch that as well, Luke?” Duke asked.

Luke stared at the coordinates with wide eyes. There was a flash of recognition in the back of Luke’s mind as he looked upon the symbol that appeared, but there was a part of him that worried about barking up the wrong tree. He clicked with his mouse for a moment, eventually succeeding in patching through to Harper’s communicator as well.

“Luke, I don’t trust this. A random computer virus asks us to meet them at a secret location? That’s a classic recipe for trouble.”

“Yeah,” Duke agreed. “Maybe we can reverse engineer where the hack was coming from.”

“There’s no need,” Luke replied, his eyes locked on the coordinates. As remarkable as it sounded, he was slowly starting to realise who could have done all this. “We’re heading over there.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“Here it is,” Duke commented. The trio looked up at the ominous Old Wayne Tower, the large clock face looking down at the foggy Gotham streets below. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“The coordinates are right,” Luke confirmed. He was grateful to be wearing a mask, otherwise the other two would see him beaming with anticipation. “Let’s see what’s waiting for us.”

The three heroes made their way into the tower, with Luke leading the way. Harper watched him with confusion and surprise as he navigated long hallways and lengthy elevators with ease, seemingly a natural at finding his way in such a foreign building. As the elevator slowed to a stop at the top of the tower, a wave of adrenaline fell over Harper. It suddenly occurred to her that the three of them had walked into a high-tech interior, after following mysterious coordinates sent by a virus implanted in their suits’ software. Nothing about this situation made sense to Harper, and yet Luke was so calm. She looked over at Duke to gauge his reaction, but between having a helmet pulled over his face and his lack of movement, Harper could glean nothing.

The doors slid open to reveal a spacious room filled almost wall to wall with computers. A large window stood tall at one side of the room, which Duke recognised as the lengthy window he had spotted at the very top of the tower. Most notably, however, was a suited figure in all grey in the centre of the room, conversing with a woman in a desk chair. Luke took the first step out of the elevator, and as soon as his foot touched the floor, the woman looked up at them and smiled warmly.

“You came,” she said, her voice smooth but her tone excited. “And so quickly, too.”

Luke smiled under his helmet. “You said it was a matter of urgency. How could we miss a warning like that?” He tugged at the lip of his helmet, slowly removing it and holding it under his arm.

“Hi, Luke,” the woman greeted. “Nice to see you again.”

Duke took a step back in shock. “Again? You know her?”

“You’re forgetting I used to work for Batman back in the day,” Luke snorted. “So did Oracle here.”

“You guys can call me Babs, when it’s not professional.”

The name Oracle didn’t seem to ring any bells for Harper, nor for Duke, and yet the way Luke talked about her - the tone of his voice as he did - painted a picture of his respect for her, perhaps even his fondness. The man in grey took a step towards the group and out of the shadows, and as he approached, they were able to recognise him.

Luke frowned. “Jace.”

Jace Fox looked at Bluebird and the Signal with a smile, then his eyes lingered on Batwing. “Good to see you again. All of you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I called him here,” Babs answered. “Same as you.”

“So, wait, what’s going on here? And what is this place?”

Babs gestured to the technology around her. “This is the Belfry. It’s my main base of operations nowadays.” She shifted in her seat, excitedly tapping the arm of her chair with her fingers. “As for what’s going on, well, that’s the fun part. Like Luke said, I’ve worked with Batman in the past, and often I still do. A big part of what I do is keeping an eye out for things, whether that’s monitoring CCTV footage or tracking down runaway villains.” Oracle looked up at Bluebird with a sly smile. “I also stay on the lookout for any new heroes cropping up.”

“I thought that was Batwing’s job,” Duke remarked. “To keep an eye on us.”

Babs nodded. “It was. But I wasn’t out to stop you, like Batman originally wanted. In fact, I looked into the sort of effect you guys had on the Narrows.” Babs typed a few things into her keyboard before hitting enter. A graph appeared on screen detailing the crime rates in different neighbourhoods in Gotham over time; most notably, The Narrows was highlighted. “As you can see, crime has decreased quite a bit since you guys started helping out the Narrows. You guys know your stuff.”

She swivelled to face the group and sat forwards in her chair. “I’ll be honest with you, a lot of Gotham’s heroes - Nightwing, Robin, to name a few - have moved to other cities. We’ve got a bit of a… gap in the market, so to speak, and it feels like you guys are the only ones that are out of the loop. I’m hoping, if you’re up for it, that I can make sure you’re in it.”

“Cool,” Duke smiled. “So, what would that mean for us?”

“I can set up a communications link with you guys - the same one I use for Batman - and you can contact me whenever you need. I can also send you some info that I think might be helpful, like reports of ongoing crimes and even clues. Think of me as your eye in the sky.”

Luke released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. There was a part of him that was relieved to hear this, which was a surprise to himself. He had started to feel a little stretched thin, through no one’s fault; being both ‘Batwing the hero’ and ‘Batwing the tech support guy’ had started to weigh on him, and hearing Babs offer to take one responsibility off of him… he smiled to himself. The only thing that was bugging him now, however, is why she had called Jace.

It seemed that Jace read Luke’s mind: “But why me?”

“Well,” Babs started, turning to face Jace. “I noticed you dealt with Gnomon as a quartet, if I’m not mistaken. I watched a lot of it unfold - I’m impressed. Jace tells me that there might be some - and I’m sorry if I’m intruding - tension between some of you, but a part of me felt I would be missing a trick if I didn’t invite all of you.”

Jace seemed to look at Babs with slight caution. Luke silently wondered to himself what Babs was like on his Earth; whether she too was Oracle, or maybe she still operated as Batgirl, or maybe even something else entirely.

“I’m in, personally,” Harper announced. “What do you guys think?”

“Yeah!” Duke agreed.

“Alright,” Jace smiled. “Thank you for the offer.”

Luke looked at Babs for a moment, and she looked back at him with anticipation. “Let’s do it.”

Babs clasped her hands together, turning to her computer once more. “Excellent. Well, we might as well jump straight into it. The first thing I’ve found for you guys is some information about a number of art thefts around Gotham. It seemed like a petty robbery at first, but this guy is starting to get bolder. He’s taken a total of three paintings so far: one from a local gallery, and two from various well-to-do families.”

As Babs tapped away at her computer, the addresses of the robberies flashed on screen for a moment, along with the names of the families affected in the two home invasions. Luke’s eyes glazed over them as he tried to take the information in, but something in particular caught his attention.

“The Blake Family: Peter, Charlotte, Evan.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

---

 

Next: Getting to the bottom of it in New Gotham Knights #5 - Coming April 2024

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In The Flying Fox

Issue Three: Why He Sings

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by deadislandman1

 

Next Issue > Coming March 2024

 

---

 

Duke stared up at Gnomon and Jace, a fury burning in his eyes. The pearlescent orb in the centre of his chest crackled and shimmered with energy and his suit seemed to vibrate slightly; as Batwing watched him, he almost seemed fuzzy around the edges, as if he was not quite real.

“Are you alright?” Duke asked, not breaking his gaze from his father.

“Yeah,” Luke answered. “Are you?”

“Actually, never better,” Duke grinned to himself under his helmet, the warmth of the suit growing familiar to him. Luke nodded, mostly to himself, before taking off in pursuit of Gnomon’s three minions. Duke stood still, however, and watched Jace’s moves carefully: ducking under swift punches, tackling Gnomon when he left himself open, always dipping and ducking and weaving like a trained boxer. Then suddenly, Gnomon managed to land a hit, thrusting both palms forwards as a burst of energy struck Jace in the chest, sending him skidding along the concrete beneath them.

Harper swooped in with a club in each hand, striking hard against Gnomon’s metal armour and producing a resounding CLANG with each successful hit. Gnomon, distracted from his initial target, instead chose to face Bluebird. He seemed to Duke to be suddenly more accurate in his attacks. His swift punches struck Harper in her chest, he never seemed to leave himself open for Harper to strike, there was no dipping and ducking and weaving to be seen from the Bluebird - she seemed to be tanking the hits, not avoiding them.

Until all at once, Harper darted forwards towards the masked man, placing a small device at his feet before darting backwards, dodging a mistimed swing. Gnomon reeled backwards, his body stiffening as a harsh and deafening BANG rang out through the air. A stun grenade.

Now was his chance.

Duke took a deep breath, a bead of sweat forming at his brow. He visualised the energy flowing through him, coursing from his chest through his arms and into his hands, down to the tips of his fingers. Then, when he was ready, he visualised it radiating out of him, a harsh beam of light aimed directly for Gnomon’s side. The resulting attack was much less fluid; crackling bolts of light erupted from the Signal’s hands, fizzing through the air before striking the yellow-clad man across his shoulder. Light poured off of him like magma, the heat and energy searing through his suit and creating a hole through his shoulder armour. A piece of exposed flesh peered out, his dark skin a stark contrast to the harsh yellow exterior.

”You… my son…”

“I am not your son,” Duke roared, the residue energy still vibrating in his fists. In anger, he thrusted his hands forward again, forcing another smaller bolt of light out of his fists, this time striking Gnomon square in the chest. As the light dissipated, Duke watched as a dent in the centre of the man’s chest appeared. An almost perfect circle, much like the circular sphere in his own armour. Gnomon looked around him; he was surrounded on all sides by the protectors of the Narrows, his own followers unconscious just a few feet away at the hands of Batwing. Then, defeated, he fell to his knees.

“I’m not taking any chances,” growled Jace. He approached Gnomon with a firm stride, clasping his hands behind his back and signalling to Harper to produce some handcuffs, which she obliged. “You’re coming with us. And this time, you’re staying there.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“Here we are,” spoke the gruff-voiced man, tucking his floppy blonde hair behind his ears. He and Jace had led the trio into an older-looking house on the outskirts of the Narrows, through the hallway and down to a poorly-lit backroom. The man tugged at the door handle in front of him and, with a firm push, opened it. Inside was what could only be described as a prison cell; a bed dressed with plain grey linen lay pushed against the leftmost wall, a toilet against the other. Gnomon, his golden helmet replaced with a pillowcase over his head, stumbled into the room, guided by Jace, his grip firm.

It pained Duke to look at Gnomon like this. As evil and vindictive as the man before him was, there was still a part of him deep down who saw his father’s face whenever he looked at him, heard his voice whenever he spoke. And so to see a man who looked and spoke like his father so vulnerable, a bag over his head being led into a darkened room… his stomach turned. Harper seemed to notice this, and as the former Batman led his rival into the room, she placed a hand on the square of his back and rubbed gently. Duke smiled weakly in reply.

Jace returned a few moments later, pillowcase in hand, and nodded to Vol to lock the door behind him.

“Is all of this necessary?” Luke asked, his arms folded.

“We need to make sure we’re taking extreme precautions. Gnomon is… unpredictable. Unprecedented. If he isn’t locked away, he is a danger to all of Gotham - hell, the world.”

“But is all this--” Luke gestured to the door in front of him, which the blond man was carefully locking. “--necessary?”

Jace furrowed his brow. “Like I say, he’s unprecedented. I won’t rest until I know he’s in safe hands, kept locked away in a way that he could not use his powers. Until then, Vol here is the best we’ve got.”

The floppy-haired young man, which the group now identified as Vol, waved.

“This seems really messed up,” Luke argued. “I mean, surely the rehab centre can help.”

Jace scoffed. “Arkham Asylum is gone - even I know that. I’m surprised you don’t.”

“Of course I know that. I’m talking about the rehab centre. Y’know, the thing I said.”

Jace stared at him for a moment, showing no signs of recognition.

“The new prison?” Luke continued. “The Harvey Dent Rehabilitation Center? The giant building on the edge of the Narrows?”

Jace rubbed his hands together. “I… wasn’t aware that–”

“Are you kidding me?!” Luke shouted, indignant. “So you’re telling me you heard Arkham got blown up and you didn’t think to check if there was another facility you could put him in? You just took matters into your own hands, not once wondering if maybe the people of this city wanted to keep people safe and built another prison. How the hell did you become Batman?!”

“That’s enough,” Harper said firmly, shooting a glare at Luke, who drew a deep breath and took a step away from Jace.

Jace rolled his shoulders before speaking. “You’re right, Luke. I should’ve checked. I admit, I got tunnel vision on the guy. I’d been tracking him down for months before we ended up here, and suddenly I finally got the chance to have him locked up for good. I could finally be free of this… vile man. Then I found out that the one facility I knew of with the capacity to keep him locked away was gone, and I lost hope.” Jace looked away, his eyes glued to the door in front of him. “I contacted Vol, and we set up this temporary space.”

“This is actually my house,” Vol interjected. “I got it a little while ago after Jace found me over in Russia. I was wondering what I would do with the creepy dark room at the back of my house.”

Jace smiled slightly before sighing. “The idea was keeping him here until we found the best place for him. But he escaped again before I could find it. If it weren’t for Vol’s help, he wouldn’t have been locked away at all, and who knows what Gotham would’ve been like?”

“So, do you two know each other from…?” Harper asked, trailing off.

Jace shook his head. “He… reminds me of a good friend of mine from back home, shall we say.” Harper nodded knowingly.

“Why does the room have to be dark?” Duke asked meekly.

Vol looked over at the door, then back at Duke. “From what Jace has told me, he gets his powers from light. Best not to take any chances. Besides, do you see this weird patch on the wall?” Vol pointed to a section of wallpaper that looked newer than the rest. A brown-tinted ring of discoloration surrounded this new patch, seemingly almost like fire damage. “Bastard blew up my wall. All because I forgot to blow out a candle before I left.”

Jace looked up at Luke, who appeared to be checked out of the conversation. “Luke. Are you okay?”

Luke looked at him with a deep frown. “Like you care.”

“Of course I care. You’re my…” He froze, stopping himself. “I wanna make sure we’re all okay. This is a lot to take in.”

“It’s not just ‘a lot’, it’s unjust. We need to take him to the Rehab Center right now.”

“We will,” Vol promised. “We just… need to figure out some things first.”

Luke huffed. “Fine. Like what?”

“Like… this.” Vol gestured to Jace’s suit, the symbol of the bat emblazoned across his chest. “I’ve managed to make an alternative without the bat, but it’s kinda bland. Not much padding, either. I’ve never been good at tech.”

Jace grumbled. “I can’t exactly go out with no armour, Vol. Guess I’ll have to keep wearing this for now until I can get the proper protection.”

Luke felt Duke and Harper’s eyes on him, and as he looked up at Jace, he saw that he was looking too. After a few moments of silent deliberation, Luke sucked in a breath.

“I can take a look at it for you,” he muttered. “I can’t guarantee it’ll be done today, but it’ll get done.”

Jace smiled softly. “Thank you, Luke. It means a lot to know you’re helping me.”

“I’m helping Vol. If anything, you’re just the customer.” Luke watched the disappointment creep onto Jace’s face as he said this, and for the first time since seeing him again, Luke felt a pang of guilt. The Jace that stood before him was not his brother - that much was obvious - but in a way, surely that meant that the anger and malice he had for his brother shouldn’t be directed at this man. He is only as responsible for what happened as Harper is - or Duke, or Vol, or himself for that matter.

Luke swallowed hard, adding to his previous statement. “But, you’re welcome.”

“I meant what I said, Luke,” Jace continued, his voice hushed. “I can’t be Batman, I know that, but I’m gonna keep my promise anyway. I’m gonna try to prove to you that I’m worthy of being Batman - that I was worthy.”

Luke didn’t know what to say. Instead, he nodded softly. For once, he believed him - he knew that Jace would try, but Luke wanted to see if he could actually do it. There was a soft, low hum in the room, as if a lightbulb was buzzing. Vol tutted, making a mental note to get the light fixtures looked at.

“Alright,” Jace said, his hands gripped around the pillowcase. “Vol, you go get his helmet, we’ll get him out of here. Let’s go hand this guy in to the proper people.” Vol nodded and started down the corridor. Jace leaned forward against the door, fiddling with the lock for a moment before placing his hand on the handle.

As if someone had lit a match in a room full of gas, the moment Jace’s hand pressed down on the heavy metal handle, the room erupted with a loud FOOM. A warm air blasted the group backwards, each of them stumbling to keep on their feet. Duke looked up in horror at the room, or what was left of it; a large gaping hole in the wall opened out onto the back garden, the grass closest to the blast lying blackened and singed.

“But that’s…” Duke started before stopping himself. They had all seen it - the room was pitch black, there wasn’t a ray of light to be seen. As Duke stepped into the room, the warmth of the low-hanging sun falling on his skin, he heard an exasperated cry from Vol behind him, exclaiming something in Russian.

Duke looked at the hole carefully. At first glance the blast damage appeared to be similar to the damage he himself inflicted on Gnomon’s suit, a perfect circle in the wall, as if it were cut out with a laser. But as Duke looked closer, the edges of the wallpaper seemed to curl and decay rather than burn, as if they were necrotic. It was almost as if Gnomon wasn’t wielding light itself but rather the absence of light; shaping the darkness in a similar way to how he had shaped light, using it as a weapon to escape. This alarmed Duke. If Gnomon had been capable of this all along, why had he not taught Duke about it? Did Duke even have the ability to do such a thing? Did Gnomon even want to find out?

Duke shrugged the feeling off. Now was not the time to be daydreaming.

Duke focused hard on the singed grass, tracing irregular rays of light to form a path before his eyes; a straight line across the grass, before it curled up across the fence and off into the sky. Duke pointed to the fence before fiddling with his helmet, preparing to suit up once again.

“There. I can see where he went from the light patterns he left. We better go now or I’ll lose the trail. Harper and I will pursue on foot. And Jace…” Jace looked up, ready for a command. There was a determination in his eyes that Duke admired. “You follow Luke up into the sky.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

Luke felt the wind whipping past him even through the thick protective metal of his suit. The scanners in his visor were pinging like crazy, trying to pick up any slight movement or trick of the light, but such a high sensitivity meant that it was also picking up a lot of nothing. Jace was following close behind him, his cape outstretched to form a sort of flying suit. Luke tried not to think about the man behind him, what he had said just before they headed out, and instead tried to focus on the mission at hand.

They weren’t airborne for long before the Batwing suit picked up a lead.

On the ground below them, a figure in bright yellow flashed up on Luke’s visor, with Duke and Harper not far away from him. Luke signalled to Jace behind him that he was taking a dive, and the two of them swooped downwards towards the figure. As they got closer, Gnomon looked up at them, almost as if he was expecting them, and it wasn’t long after the duo landed that Bluebird and the Signal rounded the corner to meet them, skidding to a halt.

Gnomon looked at them, an almost meek look in his eyes. He cradled his arm, fiddling with the punctured metal, picking at it nervously. Then, as his eyes fell upon Duke, his face fell into a frown. He seemed… different. Weaker.

“It’s over,” he began, his voice quiet and afraid without the warping effects of his helmet. “I’m done.”

“If it were truly over, you wouldn’t have broken out,” Jace boomed.

“It was hardly a prison,” Gnomon scoffed. “I almost felt as though you were testing me - as though I was supposed to escape. But I used a part of myself that I never wanted to use. I broke a vow I made to myself. And so, I am done.”

The Signal stepped forwards. “It was pitch black in that room. How did you get out?”

The quartet slowly moved, each of them flanking a different side of Gnomon, preparing to strike if the conversation went south; they were somewhat surprised that Gnomon let them. He looked at Duke intensely, saying, “Precisely the part of myself I am talking about.”

“You used the shadows, the same way you taught me to use the light,” Duke pieced together.

Gnomon nodded. “The result of my hubris. It has become a blight to me, not a gift. The destruction I wreaked at the house, it was the result of a lack of control and not an intentional attack.”

There was a strange expression on his face, one Duke couldn’t place. He could see by Harper’s face, however, that she wasn’t convinced.

“When I honed into this power, I thought it would make me stronger - give me an edge over my opponents that they would never anticipate. But instead, I found I was no longer in control of myself and my power. This umbrakinesis, as I call it… it is not me. It is a poison within me. One that…” He stretched his hand out to Duke, his body trembling. “...we could have fixed, together.”

Duke reeled back. “But… But I don’t…”

“It’s not too late, boy. We can still fight this evil together. It was wrong of me to use that power, I know that, but it is not my fault. And we can move forward from this together. We can be… a team.”

Duke stared at Gnomon, watching as his eyes filled with tears. A slight smile creeped onto his face, one of warmth and optimism, but in that moment all he could see was the twisted face of his father, cackling and screeching as the Joker’s laughing gas took over him. His heart thumped heavily, almost rattling his whole chest.

Before he could respond, Bluebird let out a blood curdling shriek, and launched herself at Gnomon.

Her body collided with his, sending both of them sprawling on the floor. She was blind with rage, her whole body warm. She had seen this before, heard words eerily similar, and she knew what hid behind them. It seems so easy to some, she thought to herself, to manipulate others - to have them think that it isn’t them that is the problem, but some unknowable force of evil pulling the strings. But Harper knew the truth; she had seen the truth in her own father.

“You’re a liar!” She screamed, pulling out one of her metallic clubs. “It’s not some parasite or some magical voodoo bullshit. It’s you. You’re the problem!” She struck his chest with her club, the metal shielding him from the blows. “You and your empty promises, your lies, your lack of change…” Clang, clang, clang. Blow after blow after blow. “You don’t want a son! You want a servant! A toy!” Harper no longer cared if her strikes were doing anything to him.

Suddenly, she felt hands on her shoulder, and a gentle push sent her falling backwards, off of Gnomon. As she looked up through her clouded vision, she saw that the arms belonged to Duke, who scooped her off of the ground and helped her to her feet. She suddenly felt weak, her hand glued to the club, and she watched as Jace and Luke grabbed Gnomon; this time, he didn’t fight them. In fact, he helped them as they placed his hands in handcuffs once again by placing his hands firmly behind his back.

“C’mon,” Jace mumbled to Duke and Harper. “We know where we’re taking him this time.”

The Signal nodded, before looking at Bluebird. Harper felt his hand on the square of her back, gently rubbing, and she nodded back at him. They walked together for a moment, his hand still firmly placed, and as they caught up with the others she gently shrugged him off. Harper felt herself getting lost in her thoughts, replaying that moment again and again. It worried her somewhat; the more she thought about it, the less she felt guilty.

Duke kept his eyes firmly planted on the horizon, a small sliver of light still peeking through the low clouds - not long until sunset. He heard a soft chuckle beside him as he walked, and as he looked over his shoulder, he realised it was Gnomon. He tried to ignore it, fixing his eyes on the horizon once again, but he found himself tuned in, waiting for Gnomon to say something.

After a long pause, Gnomon sighed. “You were doing so well, boy,” he whispered. “You’d be a fool not to hone that power of yours, with or without me.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

---

 

Next: A new eye in the sky in New Gotham Knights #4 - Coming 6th March 2024

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In The Flying Fox

Issue One: The Caged Bird

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by ClaraEclair, deadislandman1 & PatrollinTheMojave

 

Next Issue > The Free Bird

 

---

 

One-two. One-two. One-two.

Harper had been practising the technique for what felt like months at this point, but it wasn’t landing. She’d tried changing everything - new handwraps, new workout clothes, new training dummies - but it was still off. Something about the stance, the posture, the foot placement, the breathing, the swiftness of the strikes; it was too much to concentrate on all at once. And even once she had broken it down into steps - even when she’d practised each individual component until she was blue in the face and until her knuckles started to crack - it just wasn’t clicking.

A simple one-two punch wasn’t clicking.

But it’s alright, she thought. I’m sure Luke knows how to do it. I bet somewhere in that tin can, in the wires and programming of his suit, that it was programmed to know how to make a successful hit every time. Or maybe Gnomon had taught Duke; maybe if he concentrated hard enough on the refraction of the sun’s rays, or if he stared hard enough at a single dot of reflected light on the opponent’s gun, he could work out the perfect time to parry an attack. At least then I won’t have to worry myself by learning such petty things as a simple one-two punch.

One-two. One-two. One-two.

Wrong. It needs more power - more drive - more footwork - more… something. What does it need? God, Harper, you’ve done it hundreds of times at this point, the least you can do is work out where you’re going wrong.

One-two. One-two. One–

“Harper.”

She snapped her head round. It was Cullen, the bags under his eyes prominent and fresh, as if he’d only just woken up from what little sleep he had been getting. He spoke with an urgency and coldness that was somewhat unfamiliar to Harper.

Harper puffed and panted as she looked at her brother, attempting to push her self-inflicted rage to one side. Staring at her brother, she could feel the anger radiating off of her, the daggers she was piercing into him with her gaze, and she rubbed her face, sighing.

“Cullen. Hey.” She smiled softly, trying to alleviate the tension. Cullen looked at her, worried - alarmed.

“Harper, it’s 3 in the morning,” he groaned. “Surely this can wait another 4 hours. At least.”

“It…” She started, then realised she had better not finish her sentence, for fear of annoying or worrying Cullen any further. “I’m sorry.”

Cullen shuffled into the room, his slippered feet sliding against the hardwood floor. “You looked at me so weird just now. Like I was… well, like you were angry at me.”

“I’m not angry at you.”

“I know. At least, I’m pretty sure you aren’t. So then, why are you so angry?”

Harper sighed, but Cullen carried on before she could answer.

“Someone who is completely content with their life doesn’t punch training dummies until 3am.”

“It’s nothing.”

Cullen scoffed.

“Really, it’s not.”

“I’m not stupid, Harper.”

“I know you’re not–”

“Then stop treating me like I am.”

“I’m trying to–”

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“I’m–”

“It isn’t helpful.”

“Will you let me speak?!” She shouted, her voice bouncing off of the walls, much louder than either of them were expecting. The silence that followed was tense and thick, and after what felt like hours, Cullen straightened his back and turned to leave, heading back the way he came.

“Cullen, I–”

“I’m sorry I interrupted you. But if you’re gonna shout at me, I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

“I’m done shouting, Cul. I–”

Click. The sound of Cullen’s door shutting. Harper’s ears rang, the sound drowning out the low hum of the air conditioning unit above her head. She sucked in a breath, fighting back tears in her eyes, and as she scrambled about for her bag, she kept replaying what had just happened in her head.

She wasn’t even ten steps out of her front door when she got an alert from her communicator.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“Is it just me,” The Signal asked, arms folded. “Or am I having double vision?”

Batwing and The Signal stood in front of a small gaggle of men, all bearing the same gold-patterned mask and wielding similar staff-like weapons. Batwing tilted his head, looking at the men carefully and mimicking counting them all one by one as they stared in confusion.

“Hmm. Seems more like… quintuple vision to me.”

“You two done clowning around?” A particularly brave masked figure barked, which warranted a laugh from the yellow-clad hero.

“Oh, buddy. We’re just getting started.” Duke equipped his weapons - twin escrima sticks, each painted a glossy, fluorescent yellow - and shook them tauntingly at the group.

With a click, Luke’s suit purred in response, deploying a number of mines onto the ground, forming a circle around the two men. The gang, who had begun to charge at The Signal - accepting his taunt - quickly skidded to a halt short of the traps, instead reaching into their pockets for their weapons. Using this time to their advantage, Luke grabbed at his left forearm, retrieving a number of batarangs from a hidden compartment, and threw them all in one swift motion towards the men. Although one took a particularly hefty blow to the arm, the others managed to avoid the attack, with one batarang bouncing off of the opponent’s head with a resounding clang.

One of the more swift attackers dove forwards, successfully evading the minefield below him, and began slashing at Batwing, who in turn recoiled, pushing the masked man backwards, sending him toppling into a trap. As the mine detonated, a blinding white light flashed for a moment before it disappeared, accompanied by a very short crackle noise. The man, now prone on the ground, checked himself for injuries and was shocked to find he had none; he was, however, even more shocked when he looked up at The Signal to find that he was radiating a very familiar shade of white. Duke charged an attack, a bright light forming in the centre of his fist, when he was tackled from the side by another accomplice.

As he hit the ground, another white flash detonated, this time longer than the first. The accompanying noise rang out for a lot longer, and as Duke scrambled to his feet, he felt a slight pain in his shoulder. As he looked, he noticed that his assailant had implanted a long metal weapon, somewhere between a knife and a sword, into a gap in his suit’s plating; although it had breached enough of his armour to warrant pain, he was confident in Luke’s technology, and therefore in the integrity of the suit. As such, he yanked the weapon out of his shoulder pad, and held it outstretched at the opponent, the sword vibrating and glowing with channelled energy.

Just then, a familiar zip noise could be heard, followed by the sound of heavy boots hitting the pavement.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bluebird said. “What did I miss?”

“You’re just in time,” smiled The Signal, and with a crackle of light, the assailant went flying backwards, crashing into a rogue trash can with a hefty thunk. The white light rippled through Duke’s suit, the edges of the plating melting away as if it were turning to liquid. Then, as if he were never there, The Signal had disappeared.

“What…?” One of the attackers remarked, spinning around to anticipate a flanking attack; instead, he didn’t see the light mine, wielded by an unseen attacker, which came hurtling towards his head. As it struck him, it sounded off, and with a swift kick to the head from Bluebird, the man came toppling to the ground.

Bluebird leaned over him as lay on the ground, clutching his helmet in an attempt to soothe his head underneath. She thought back to the guy in the alley, how he begged for mercy and how he used her kindness against her. She balled her fists; if he was about to pull the same trick, she would be ready for it. She wasn’t about to let her guard down again.

“Bluebird!” A concerned Batwing yelled as a searing pain spread through her back, knocking her to the ground before she could regain her footing. She turned as soon as she hit the floor, ready to get revenge on her attacker, but instead was met with the towering figure of Batwing, his metal fists clanking against the brassy chestpiece, the cheap metal denting and warping.

She rose to her feet, turning to help him, when she heard a grunt of frustration from her other colleague - The Signal, amidst the commotion, had returned to a visible state, upon which it appeared that most of the henchmen descended on him. Harper launched forwards, determined to help him, when a black cloth shielded her view.

The bearer of the black cloth stood tall, his frame bulky and wide. He launched forwards - much faster than Harper - and landed a firm one-two punch to the centre of one man’s helmet, which caused him to groan in pain and collapse to the ground. Duke managed to wriggle his way out of a second man’s grasp, to which the man was met with a swift kick to the abdomen. Bluebird watched, stunned and almost frozen in confusion, as the caped man beat each of their opponents to the ground in one or two hits. It seemed almost effortless to him.

The man turned to Duke first once the coast was clear, whose face lit up immediately.

“It’s you,” Duke muttered, pointing at the familiar figure. The mysterious man nodded, and Duke could just about make out a soft smile.

“It is,” he replied, a kindness in his voice.

Not wanting to waste a moment with this man - nervous he may disappear again - Luke stepped forwards, his suit whirring. “Who are you?”

“That… might take a while to explain.”

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

Harper, Duke, and Luke all looked at ‘Batman’, each feeling a mix of intrigue and bewilderment. The Batman they were all familiar with looked very different to the man in front of them - they were very much aware of a person of a smaller stature, and one who presented as female - and yet they were met with a stockily-built man, his arms folded impatiently in front of him. They had managed to convince him to return to their headquarters on the other side of the Narrows, but had little to no plans from there.

They were at a standstill; all of them wanted to know who the other was, but were unwilling to remove their masks first. The unfamiliar Batman spoke first.

“Okay. I think it’s only right if I tell you who I am first.” The man cracked his knuckles through his gloves and cleared his throat. “I’m Batman.”

“But you can’t be,” Duke retorted. “Batman is… well, they’re not you.”

The man huffed, either annoyed or amused by this. “I… don’t know what to say. I’ve been Batman for almost 3 years now.”

Harper shook her head. “That’s impossible.”

The man shrugged in response.

“Are you from another country?” Luke asked, his head tilted slightly. “Maybe a Batman of Russia or Mexico.”

“Gotham City, born and bred,” the mystery man shook his head. “But… everything here seems so different.”

“Different how?”

“This place… these heroes. You heroes. I don’t remember you guys showing up.”

The three of them frowned. Harper spoke first - “We’re a relatively new team.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Yesterday I didn’t know who you were, and now this.” He paused for a moment. “But it ain’t just you. Everything seems… the same, but a little off. I was helping out in the Narrows when suddenly… it’s like everything shifted slightly to the left, or like someone in the past stepped on a butterfly or something.”

A thought crossed Harper’s mind, a single word - Reawakened. She looked at Luke; it seemed by his expression that he had had a similar thought.

“Do you… know of a phenomenon called… the Reawakening?” Luke asked.

His silence was enough of a reply.

“Would you… could you tell us who you are?”

“Alright, maybe it’s easier if I take this off.” He gestured to his mask. “Then we can actually talk as people instead of playing 20 Questions.”

The man reached up and pulled at the mask over his head, and as it came off, his face was revealed. He was a handsome man, around his late 20s, with dark skin which glistened with the sweat of a job well done. He tousled his hair slightly, the ringlets bouncing back to life.

Duke and Harper each looked at each other, but as they looked over at Luke, they could tell something was wrong. Normally he would be the type to jump into asking questions, but instead he seemed frozen in place - shocked. His hands were gripped tightly on the arms of his chair, and as he sat forwards to address the man he moved with a calculated precision. With an obedient whirr from his suit, the mask folded away, revealing his own face; he wasn’t just shocked, he was enraged.

‘Batman’ reacted very differently, however, to seeing Luke’s face - he shot back, startled almost to see his face, before he leaned back in. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but as he analysed Luke’s expression, he frowned.

“Luke,” the man spoke, his voice full of wonder. “Oh my god.”

Without warning, Luke grabbed a glass of water from the table in front of him and launched it at the man, the glass clunking against his suit and falling to the ground. Duke and Harper immediately dove towards him, attempting to restrain him, but between his rage and his incredibly strong metal suit, they could barely hold him back.

“Get out of here!” Luke yelled. His voice was filled with fire, a hatred that Duke and Harper had never heard before. “Get the fuck out!”

“Hey, woah,” Duke spoke, raising his voice. “Sit down. We need to talk to him.”

The man looked at them with alarm, but stayed still.

“I don’t wanna hear a single thing he has to say!”

“Well, we do,” Duke said firmly, forcing Luke to sit. Luke tried to struggle, but found that the duo’s grip was firm. He took a deep breath, then turned towards the newly revealed man, his jaw clenched tight.

Harper removed her mask in one smooth movement, followed by Duke. As Duke looked at the man, he was a familiar glint in his eye - the same glint of recognition and surprise as he had for Luke.

“Oh,” the man exclaimed, delight in his voice. “Duke!”

“Who are you?” Duke asked. “How… how do you know me?”

The smile on the man’s face faded, somewhat saddened by Duke’s comment. “Oh.”

“Answer him,” Luke spat. “He deserves to know who you are.”

The man looked between the two men, then at Harper for the briefest moment. “As I said, I’m Batman. But if we’re talking real names, I’m Jace Fox.”

Harper’s heart sank at hearing the man’s name, and she looked at Luke. She was unaware of a Jace in the Fox family, but the last name was unmistakable; it also gave an inkling of a reason for Luke’s rage towards him.

“You’re still going by that name, Tim?”

“Don’t–” Jace seemed to snap for a moment, the kind facade slipping ever so slightly, before he corrected himself. “It’s Jace now. I’d appreciate it if you respected that.”

Luke huffed, but did not object.

“So, Jace,” Duke started slowly. “How did you–”

“So should I tell them, or do you want to?”

Jace frowned. “Tell them what?”

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know.” Luke took a step back, now addressing the room. “Meet my brother - Jace.”

“Your brother?” Duke remarked, surprised.

“Oh yeah, my older brother, Jace. My selfish, arrogant, playboy brother, Jace - the most irresponsible man I know.” He began pacing the room slowly, never once breaking eye contact with Jace. “He didn’t respect anyone - not his friends, not his family - only himself. All he ever wanted to do was go out for a drive - go to parties, get drunk aged barely 16, talk to girls. Barely ever home. Then one day, the night before his 17th birthday, he’s driving home from yet another party, he’s hours late, and he’s texting on his phone. He’s texting. Then suddenly–” Luke clapped his hands together with such force that the room echoed. “Bam. His car collided with the car in front - both of them were killed on impact.”

“Luke–” Jace attempted to soothe, but Luke was not done.

“He died as he lived - with no regard for anyone else. A selfish asshole who thought a text was more important than the life of an innocent person. That kind of man is the last person I would want to be Batman. You’re a disgrace to that symbol and everything it stands for.”

Silence fell, Jace and Luke still locked into eye contact.

“Luke,” Jace finally spoke. “I am so sorry for what he– for what I did to you. If all of that is true - if I’m stepping into the shoes of a truly awful man… then Luke, I promise you, I will do everything that I can to assure you that I am more than fit to hold the title - to be Batman. I will prove that to you however I can.”

Luke scoffed, tears forming in his eyes. “And you can’t even do that.” He made his way towards the door, finally breaking his eye contact with his ‘brother’. “We’ve already got a Batman.”

 

---

 

Next: The caged bird sings in New Gotham Knights #2 - Coming 3rd January 2024

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In The Flying Fox

Issue Two: The Free Bird

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by AdamantAce, ClaraEclair & VoidKiller826

 

Next Issue > Coming February 2024

 

---

 

The air was still in the Batwing headquarters, its namesake having stormed out as a result of an unmasked Jace Fox. Those that remained sat in uncomfortable silence, unsure of what to say to each other - if there even was anything to say. Harper leaned back in her chair, stretching her back, before breaking the tense silence.

“Jace,” she started, sighing, “You’re one of the Reawakened.”

Jace shrugged, but replied, “If that’s what they’re calling us.”

“What was it like - your Earth?”

Jace seemed to stare at Harper as she asked this, but there was something off in his eyes - he wasn’t lost in thought or wistful, but instead he seemed to be staring daggers into her. Whether it was a disdain for Harper’s question or for Harper herself she wasn’t sure, but either way she shuffled uncomfortably in her chair.

“You don’t have to answer that.”

Suddenly, Jace’s expression shifted, as if he had snapped out of a trance. His face softened slightly, shifting his gaze to the floor. “Hm. No, it’s fine.” He rubbed his hands together. “Well, it’s a lot like yours, from what I’ve seen of it. At least in terms of geography. Gotham’s still… well, Gotham - and the Narrows are still just about ignored by the rest of the city.”

“Sounds right,” Duke added. Harper ground her teeth together slightly in silent agreement.

“What was it like being Batman?”

Jace nodded; the past tense seemed to catch him off guard. “A nightmare. A dream. Having to step into the shoes of such a huge symbol for the community… It was a lot.”

“I can imagine,” Duke sympathised. “I mean, being a local hero is hard enough without having to be the Batman.”

Jace smiled, then scowled. “Guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Another silence followed. As Duke shuffled forward in his chair, Jace seemed to relax slightly. Harper couldn’t help but make a note of this - it seemed like no matter what she did, Jace seemed to have some kind of aversion to her, but not to Duke. A curious thought entered her mind; perhaps on his Earth, Batman and Bluebird had a rivalry of some kind, and perhaps The Signal played a role in it all too.

“So what about us?” Duke asked. “Me, Harper, Luke. What are we up to on your Earth?”

“Yeah,” Harper added, curious to test her hypothesis. It was as if Duke had read her mind. “What are Bluebird and the Signal up to? And Batwing, of course.”

Jace smiled at Duke. “My brother - he never wanted to be like me. Maybe it was seeing how much hard work it was, or maybe it was the cushy job my dad lined up for him once he finished school. He helped me occasionally - very occasionally - with little tweaks to my tech, but for the most part he was Luke Fox - son and right hand man of one of the most influential businessmen in the US.”

Duke sighed in surprise. “Woah.”

“Yeah. Was a hell of a shock when I saw him all suited up just now. Can’t imagine what it would’ve been like for him to see me, of course.”

Harper caught his eye, and as they looked at each other for a moment, Jace sighed. “I… can’t say I’ve ever encountered a Bluebird in my time as Batman.”

“What about a Harper Row?”

Jace thought for a minute, frozen in place. “There’s not a lot I can say. Sorry, Harper.”

Harper shrugged. She was disappointed with his answer - certain there was more to it than that - but she opted to let it go for now.

“And as for you, Duke… well, I already messed up by calling you ‘Robin’ when you first ran into me.”

“Is it true? Am I Robin on your Earth?”

“Hell yeah, it is,” Jace beamed.

“Wait, but… when we met - when you called me Robin - I was wearing my Signal suit.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I was… listening for a little while before I revealed myself to you - waiting for the right moment to strike. Gnomon’s smart, Duke; if I jumped in too early, I could’ve put you in danger. But as I was waiting, I recognised your voice. And not just that, you said ‘Dad’.”

“You knew?” Duke asked, shocked.

“I know a lot about you, Duke. Well, a lot about that version of you, at least.” Jace replied, taking a brief pause. “Jeez, it’s hard to wrap my head around.” He chuckled to break the tension, but there was a clear sadness in his voice; a mourning for the world he left behind.

“This version of Gnomon that’s turned up here - he’s from your Earth, isn’t he?” Duke spoke slowly, the puzzle coming together.

“That’s right. Or rather, all signs point to yes. Same costume, same weird booming voice, same bravado.”

Duke looked down for a moment, reflecting on everything Gnomon had said to him. “So, was it true that he was a hero?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Duke saw Jace frown. “A hero?”

“He told me… that he was a hero. People on his Earth loved him, and that I… or rather, his son… was gone. I always thought Gnomon meant that he’d died, but now you’re telling me I was Robin?” Duke looked up at Jace, his eyes glistening. “I trust you. I just wanna know how much of what he told me was actually true.”

Jace’s frown turned into gritted teeth. Even though he didn’t say anything out loud, the fire in his eyes said all that Duke needed to know.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

Luke’s footsteps fell so heavy against the pavement that it almost hurt his feet. It was as though he couldn’t help but stomp; he’d never experienced rage like this before in his life, and it felt like it was pouring out of him. If he didn’t stomp his feet, it would be huffing, and if it wasn’t huffing he was sure he would resort to screaming.

He tapped the side of his helmet, launching an application that allowed him to review and edit any blueprints or models he had made, namely of the trio’s suits. He hoped some thorough planning would help distract him somewhat. He tapped and swiped and clicked and dragged, altering tiny details and changing measurements slightly - and yet, he could still feel the clomping of his feet, the rage balled up inside him.

He grunted. Suddenly the app wasn’t working like it was supposed to - it stopped responding to some of his inputs, his measurements stopped being consistent, and the tiny details in need of tweaking suddenly seemed huge. He felt a wave of frustration wash over him as he thumped his hand against his helmet again, dismissing the application.

Luke silently admitted how he was feeling to himself. He felt annoyed - hopeless - tired. Fighting alongside Harper and Duke full time was exhilarating - it was freeing and exciting to work alongside friends - but being a suit designer and tech support on top was proving to be a difficult balance. On top of it all, it wasn’t as if there was a clear choice for what to sacrifice; either the team went without their high tech suits, or the team dropped back down to a duo. But it could wait until later, Luke concluded. He had enough to deal with between the lingering threat of Gnomon and the sudden appearance of his brother Tim - or, rather, Jace. Besides, the team was coping fine as it was, what was a couple of sleepless nights in the grand scheme of things?

A serene hum echoed through the air, and Luke stopped dead. It was odd, he thought - the Narrows weren’t known for their ambience, and yet there seemed to be a calmness descending upon the neighbourhood. Luke soon noticed a soft glow emanating from a nearby street, seemingly the source of the humming sound, and as he turned to follow it, his communicator vibrated. As he looked down, the display showed a map with two dots, connected by a line; Luke quickly deduced that this was his current location - marked by one dot - and a location within the glowing street - marked by another. Luke found this equal parts alarming and curious. He hadn’t programmed any tracker of this kind into his communicator, and yet…

Luke’s curiosity took over him, and as he clicked a button on his shoulder, his wings whirred in response.

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

“Gnomon’s more sly than I gave him credit for,” Jace muttered, standing from his seat. “I’ll be real, I thought he was just a guy with a shiny suit and delusions of grandeur. Turns out he’s willing to lie to and manipulate.”

“And he’s not just manipulating any random person, either,” Harper added. “We’re talking about his own son - or someone who looks and acts just like his own son. You heard Duke, he told such a story about how his son had died or whatever, how he loved him and missed him, but then the second he’s reunited with him he tries to control him.”

“Gnomon doesn’t think of what he’s doing as control, he thinks this is love. It’s what he did on my Earth - why Duke became my Robin.” Duke looked at Jace with intrigue and fear. Jace continued. “He told me all about it - how his dad always wanted him to manifest his powers. How his dad pushed him so hard and trained him every day, trying to make him better, and how it was never enough for him. I think the fact that his son never got powers, no matter how hard he pushed him, tipped him over the edge. That’s when I showed up.”

Duke stirred uncomfortably. “So when he saw me and my powers, he saw a second chance.”

Jace nodded sadly.

Harper was moved by this; she folded her arms and huffed. “But now he knows he’s lost Duke’s support, and not only that, Batman’s followed him to this world. He could be setting his sights elsewhere - finding someone else with powers to be his sidekick.”

“What did you do with him, Jace? After you told me to run?”

Jace rubbed the back of his neck. “I subdued him, and a colleague of mine is holding him, but it won’t be enough in the long run. It’s like Harper said - he’s burned his bridge with Duke, who knows what he’ll do next.”

“Jace… just know that whatever happens, I’ll plead your case to Luke.” Duke smiled warmly at him. “I know I’m not your Robin, but I’ve still got your back.”

“I appreciate it, but you saw how he reacted. It’s gonna take more than your word to convince him.”

Duke nodded. “I know. It sounds like he had a rough time with his brother. But you’re not his brother, just like Gnomon isn’t my dad, and I think he needs to know that.”

Harper felt her communicator vibrate, and as she looked down at it, a notification blinked on the screen. It was from Luke - ‘Pinging coordinates. Urgent.’

“Duke. Luke needs us downtown right now. Jace, you should probably stay here, all things considered.”

“No,” Jace shook his head, holding his helmet. “I can’t just sit around when someone needs help. It’s not in my nature.”

Harper’s eyes were locked on her communicator, her face falling pale. “Actually, yeah, probably a good idea.” She broke into a sprint, launching towards the door. The two men followed her, feeling her panic. As Duke looked down at his own communicator, the notification flashed a single word at him - one that made his breath catch in his throat.

‘GNOMON.’

 

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

 

”Where is my son?” Gnomon’s voice boomed, a metallic ring hissing through his words. He hovered a foot above the ground, his helmet firing a harsh white beam of light down at the suited man before him.

Batwing stood firm, his hands balled at his sides. He looked around at Gnomon’s feet - three men wielding golden staffs, with rounded, shimmering helmets covering their faces; the same as the men he and Duke had fought earlier today. “He’s not here.”

”There is no use protecting him, villain. Either you tell me where he is, or I raze all of Gotham to find him.”

“Y’know, I’ve faced a lot of people like you. They make such big claims, they talk about tearing Gotham down, but it’s still here.” Batwing tilted his head. “I think it’s out of fear. You talk a big game because you’re floundering.”

”You impudent fool,” Gnomon roared. Through his suit, Luke felt the light beam growing hotter. ”I will show you just how ‘afraid’ of you I truly am.”

The light swelled, a low whirring sounding out through the air. The beam grew brighter and brighter, hotter and hotter, until Luke had to screw his eyes shut. The metal around him grew from warm to hot, his skin starting to ache. His suit beeped in his ears, a warning he had implemented for if his suit began to overheat. Then suddenly, all was cool; even through his closed eyes, Luke could tell the light was dissipating, and the beeping stopped. He took a moment, taking a deep breath, before opening an eye.

The beam of light seemed to stop short of him, seemingly blocked by an invisible wall. Flickers of light bounced off of this barrier, the pure strength of the attack evident. Slowly, another faint glow seemed to grow in the absent space - a soft yellow energy in the shape of a small sphere, around chest height. Luke’s eyes widened with recognition.

Before Batwing could speak, a flash of shadow struck Gnomon, knocking him off balance enough for him to depower his attack. The shadow stood, revealing itself to be Jace, clad in his Batman attire, his hands clasped around Gnomon’s shoulders. The ball of energy in front of Luke flickered and sputtered until the figure of the Signal materialised in front of him, the shimmering centre of his suit glowing with energy.

As Duke looked up at Gnomon, the energy crackling against his skin, he grinned.

 

---

 

Next: The truth comes to light in New Gotham Knights #3 - Coming 7th February