March 11th, 2006 - 9:10 pm
Gotham City is slick with rain. The rooftops are hard to grip. Nightmare has been patrolling the city streets for a few hours. It’s been quiet, except for the few guys who chose to try and steal from a liquor store. They’re in handcuffs with broken arms. Shouldn’t have chosen to steal and you wouldn’t get your arm broken, shouldn’t have chosen to point a gun at him either and you wouldn’t get your arm broken. In ancient times, if you stole you lost fingers and hands.
He could go for a cigarette, but he still has a few hours in the suit. Before the charge of his visor goes out. Ever since he started taking up the streets, crime had started to decrease, probably because he was actually getting something done. Unlike his Father before him.
An indicator on his visor goes off, it seems something is happening in the nice part of town. Huh. He knows that address, it belongs to a well known stock broker. Micheal Snow, turns out he made a large charitable sum recently towards a new upcoming community center. Some people were pissed off by that. A new community center sounded good. Some people were never happy with what they were getting.
Trying not to slip on the rooftops as he navigated his way to Snow’s condo. Considering Snow’s big donation, he had an inkling who was hitting Snow’s home. Likely Mirage. He had a habit of attacking rich people who made large donations. Yet, his Father had never been able to catch Mirage when he did begin to show up, which wasn’t too recent.
Almost losing his footing landing on the balcony of Micheal’s condo, second floor, but it didn’t mean he wanted to fall to the street through the slick glass. The sliding door is open, the wooden floor slippery with rain.
A scream can be heard down the hallway and Nightmare rushes down the hall, despite his boots nearly losing grip from being drenched in pouring rain.
“Pl-pl-leas,” Micheal can be heard pleading.
Rushing in, tackling Mirage from behind. He hits the floor. The both of them go tumbling onto the hardwood.
“Run,” Nightmare tells Micheal.
Micheal, in his boxer, soaked in his sweat. Shaking. He’s too shocked to move.
“Aaa,” Micheal screams looking around, he scrambles off the floor and begins to run away. Fuck. Not from danger though. He’s too scared to actually think straight. Nightmare gets up from the ground. Mirage lay motionless, that honestly couldn’t be it?
He runs after Micheal to shake him out of Mirage’s Dread Gas.
“Micheal,” Nightmare calls out his voice distorted from his helmet.
“No, no, stay away,” Micheal waves his hands.
“Damn it,”
How does he snap Micheal out of it-
Mirage is laughing behind him.
“You piece of shi-
-Shit! Gas is spreading in the condo. Like fog rolling in and settling on the forest floor. It begins to obscure Mirage’s silhouette. While Nightmare’s visor could filter some of the dread gas, not this much. Not this thick;
Fuck.
“See you’re eating the rich again Mirage, you see yourself as some hero,” Nightmare goads. He needs to get outside before the Dread takes over.
The cyber dog demon is beginning to distort, his figure beginning to elongate as all Nightmare can see is six red lights for eyes. Nightmare turns his head towards the porch. He needs to lead Mirage outside.
Hands shaking, as he fumbles with his utility belt, where is that-
-there bolas-
-Mirage is raising his claws. Hope this fucking works, Nightmare charges towards Mirage. He knows Mirage to fight like a feral animal, he’s not trained, Nightmare knows that. He swipes one of his claws at Nightmare. He is able to duck despite the fact he is starting to feel the effects of the Dread. His hands shaking, Mirage’s shape is beginning to turn into bending, shadow, he’s getting taller, his teeth sharper, his claws longer. Mirage sounds like he’s snarling now.
Managing to wrap the bolas around Mirage’s ankle.
“You can’t keep using the old Nightmare against me, Mirage, get some new material,” he yanks the chains of the bolas. Mirage hits the floor again, “Come on let’s go outside and we can talk.”
Nightmare coughs. Trying to shake off the fog. He needs to get out of here quickly before the Dread begins to take over.
Somehow he makes it to the patio. He’s shaking, as he’s dragging Mirage. Is he pretending to be out? Like he did the first time he arrived? He couldn’t be out that quickly from a pair of bolas? Could he? Fuck, this is what pissed him off about fighting Mirage. Bastard was a snake.
Yanking on the bolas-
-shit-
-how did he-
-where did he actually?
Nightmare stumbles backwards when he realizes a big black shadow, back pressed to the railing of the patio. Did he stall that long? Nightmare holds onto the railing with his gloves. Mirage somehow got himself free from the bolas. Bastard always bided his time, didn’t he?
Fuck! Fuck!
“Don’t call me that!"
He can hear his Father’s voice echoing the name. It’s hard to makeout Mirage’s face as it is being replaced by the same helmet and visor he wears, his Father, yet again chastising him for the actions he took. It was never enough. He was never enough. He could hear it whispering in his head now.
“Eugh, shut up!” grabbing for anywhere in front of him and clasping onto whatever he thought was a person in front of him. It was the collar of Mirage’s coat most likely, flipping him around, Mirage tries to push him off, but he’s not nearly as strong as he is. Nightmare flips him over the railing. Mirage goes tumbling over the railing and out onto the sidewalk. While Nightmare vaults over, bracing himself for impact.
He’s going to kick the shit out of him for making him see those things again. He’s no one’s fucking shadow any more. Mirage who is slumped over, trying to catch his breath. Nightmare goes to kick him, he feels something sharp pierce the back of his shin through a weak point in his suit. Mirage’s steel claws pierce through the spandex-like material.
He pulls back his leg.
-Mirage coughs for more air as he stands up-
Fuck this.
His hands shaking as Dread courses through his body. Turning Mirage into a hungry wolf, with multiple eyes, and made of the shadows. He swiftly takes out his gun-
-Bang-
-Mirage doubles back. Mostly shocked. So the fucking monster does bleed. Good. Tightening his left palm into a fist, he charges forward. Punching the bastard in the face, well in the mask. Mirage stumbles backward. He’s going to break this bastards fucking face when he gets through his mask. He keeps on Mirage, punching him again in the mask. This thing is tougher than it looks, even with his padded gloves.
Mirage barely can keep up. It’s because he’s not a martial fighter and Nightmare knows this. The man behind the mask is starting to feel the effects of his gunshot on his side. He would have gotten a better shot if he wasn’t starting to feel feverish.
Now Nightmare is starting to feel woozy. He stops his assault on the mask, when his head begins to spin. As a massive wave of vertigo strikes him. As the streets begin to bend like a heatwave.
Crap. What the hell is going on? The cars on the sidewalk are all starting to look like lurking predators. Headlights become eyes. Grills turn into teeth. The sidewalk is beginning to turn into a puddle of water and he can barely walk. Boots sinking.
-Mirage rasps in pain.
-Mirage gasps.
His mouth is dry. He’s still feeling pretty woozy coming around. There’s the smell of something rotten surrounding him, egh. He ended up in the trash didn’t he? He’s going to be sick, ripping off his helmet, Asher leans over and pukes on the sidewalk. Not his finest moment, and he let Mirage get away. Didn’t he have something important to do, too, today?
Right.
It is to greet the newest member of the team. Johnny something. God his head is throbbing though. Cigarettes first. Cigarettes and get out of this god damn suit. He’s sweaty. Hot. Not feeling so great from Mirage’s Vertigo venom. He’s going to need to get his suit checked out. Need more padding in the leg area.
And where the fuck is George anyway? Did he look for him at all? Or just resigned himself to his bed and figured he was safe?
Day is already starting to start out crummy. His helmet, dead, it needs a charge. He still should have, there is his cellphone in his utility pack to call George.
“Sir Asher,” George answers.
“Do not Sir Asher me, did you look for me?”
“I attempted to track you through your helmet when the signal died, I have been waiting in the car in the city for you,”
“Well, I am in some alleyway, Mirage used his Vertigo Venom on me, did you bring a fresh pair of clothes?”
“I did sir,”
“We have to meet up with the team, right? To meet up with Johnny whoever,”
“Do you want a shower first sir?”
“Do I have time?”
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