---

“Ray…c’mon, buddy, I need you with me here.”

A droplet of crimson ran down Nightwing’s cheek, catching on his lip. He instinctively wiped it away with his wrist, smearing the blood on his already torn and shredded armband. The black and blue color of his uniform was mixed with the gray ash that had clung to him as he had run through the massive turbine they were trapped within.

“Ray!” he hollered again. His head tilted just enough so that his voice carried over his shoulder and down to where Ray Palmer, the costumed hero known as the Atom, lay dormant. He had been trying to verbally revive the Atom for the last thirty seconds, but there had not yet been a response from his teammate.

He clutched one of his escrima fighting sticks tightly in his hand, attempting to release some of the tension he felt. He wanted to crouch down beside Ray and begin CPR but he couldn’t. Not when any second the expected threat would come around the corner and bowl over them all.

He did chance a glance over his other shoulder, however, and immediately wished he had not. He turned away quickly. He couldn’t risk being distracted, not now. While he was hopeful that the Atom was still alive, he couldn’t say the same for Supergirl.

The blonde heroine that had been recruited to their mission was most likely dead. Even if she was as strong and resilient as her cousin, few people could survive having a five-foot long spike driven straight through their chest, impaling them to the wall. She was pinned to the wall high enough that her feet didn’t even touch the ground. Blood oozed out from around the spike, pooling on the floor beneath her.

Nightwing focused on the doorway in front of his. It was the only way in and out of this particular chamber, deep within the heart of the underground turbine. Having raced through the tunnels of the massive turbine himself already, Nightwing knew how easy it was to get lost within its confusing and alien architecture. He doubted that help would be coming anytime soon.

Even if he knew where the rest of the team was, he doubted that they would be able to find him in time. Nightwing shook his head, clearing his thoughts. A reverberating sound pounded down the corridor beyond the entryway to the chamber. He needed to keep a clear head if they had any chance of survival.

They were coming to finish them off and he was having trouble standing up straight. The scorch marks and gouges that lined the walls of the chamber reflected his ragged condition. His vision blurred slightly and he had to shake his head again to retain his focus.

The noise in the corridor grew louder, as metal pounded on metal to create a distinct stomping. Nightwing slid his other escrima out from behind his back and ground his teeth together, getting ready to strike just as soon as his target rounded the corner.

If this was his last stand, he was going to go down swinging.

---

Two Days Ago

“Barry never would have gone for hanging a Rogue upside down over the courthouse. It just wasn’t his style. Captain Cold totally deserved it, though.”

Wally West took a sip from his glass of water and smiled. It was early morning, during the breakfast rush, and the diner he and Dick Grayson sat in was packed. Central City was famous for never slowing down, and the early hours of the day were often the busiest. Swarms of people crowded around their small table in the center of the diner, all of them bustling to get to work with a cup of coffee.

“I guess that’s the big difference concerning the type of instruction we got growing up,” Wally continued. “Barry Allen was a cop that focused on the law, while Bruce Wayne was a vigilante that felt justice outweighed the law.”

“When you put it like that,” Dick replied, “he sounds more like a criminal.”

“Borderline, at best.”

“I asked Bruce one time about the difference in styles.” Dick took a bite out of a chocolate covered doughnut with sprinkles. “Guys like Barry and Hal, even Clark, they were all up front with their look. They were almost proud to be in the spotlight. Bruce was considered an urban myth up until a few years ago. I asked him why we didn’t operate more like them. They were usually catching the bad guys, right? So their methods must work. If the end product is the same then why did we have to hide in the shadows all the time?”

“I bet he gave you some deep, metaphorical answer,” Wally said.

Dick shook his head. “His answer was to take me to Arkham Asylum for the first time. He walked me down the hallways, past all of the cells full of guys he had caught. He didn’t say a word. I didn’t understand at first, but then I began to notice that all of the inmates shuffled to the back of their cells as we walked by.”

“They were scared of him.”

“Exactly,” Dick replied. “They were terrified of this man, this mortal with no extraordinary abilities. Bruce and I didn’t have flashy powers, pun completely intended, that could allow us to make a spectacle of ourselves. We had to play the game on a whole other level. Intimidation through mystique was a weapon all its own.”

Wally raised his hand to catch the attention of the waitress so they could pay their bill, but she ignored him as she balanced two trays full of eggs, bacon, and orange juice. He pulled out his wallet to leave cash on the table for her, but saw that Dick had already left a twenty on the table.

“Too slow,” Dick said as he slugged back the rest of his coffee and stood up.

The pair exited the diner and shuffled onto the busy sidewalk. Dick dropped back a few paces before he caught up to Wally. “Gotham’s never this packed,” Dick said. “So, Wally, I know you didn’t ask me to make the trip out here just to watch you scarf down two orders of waffles.”

“I wanted some advice, but it’s the kind of advice I didn’t want transmitted over a phone line.”

Dick nodded in understanding. The coming of the modern world had brought with it new and amazing ways of discerning information. Electronic signals could be plucked out of the air by men and women with specific power sets, without even using specialized equipment. Operating in their other personas as Nightwing and the Flash had become more secretive then it had been for their mentors, Batman and the previous Flash.

“Problems?”

“Just the opposite,” Wally replied. “Things are going great. The last time we spoke I told you that Jesse Chambers was going to be taking over for me.” *


“Is she backing out?” Dick asked.

“No, nothing like that. The thing is…Jay Garrick was the first Flash. Barry discovered the lightning and became the next in line, with Jay’s blessing. I tripped into Barry’s life and took up the race after the first Crisis. Now I’m passing the mantle onto Jesse, and it’s the right thing to do, the time is right, I can feel that in my heart.”

“But you aren’t sure where that leaves you in life?”

Wally let out a sigh he didn’t realize he had been holding in. “Exactly. I wanted to know what it was like for you, when you stepped out from under Bruce’s shadow. You didn’t leave the life behind you, but you basically broke away from the legacy you grew up with.”

“I’ll be honest,” Dick said as they continued walking down the street, “I felt ashamed for a long time. As angry as I was at Bruce, becoming Nightwing and leaving the Cave behind me was the singular most defining moment of my life…even moreso than when my parents died. Are you hanging up the tights for good?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe. Linda wants me to, although she won’t say it out loud.”

“My advice? Do what feels natural. You were raised amongst heroes, Wally, more so than I was. Like I just said a minute ago, Bruce and I stayed out of the spotlight. You grew into it. You can’t leave all that behind you without changing who you are at your core.”

Wally reflected on the conversation for a moment as the two heroes walked in silence. The noise of the fast-paced city swirled around them, and as they walked down the main boulevard of Central City he realized that Dick had stumbled onto something that he had been thinking about in the back of his head for a while now.

“After years of operating as the Flash openly and not even having a secret identity,” Wally said, “I’m not even sure I can separate my civilian life from my heroic one. It’s more a matter of—”

* Ka-BOOM! *

A block and a half away from them, heading downtown, debris and a cloud of smoke burst out into the street from within a building with large pillars in front of it. The crowd that had been rushing in clear, concise directions on their way to work suddenly broke into a chaotic collection of swarming targets. Everyone had instinctively ducked down when the explosion had erupted, except for two men in particular that stared at the smoky building in curiosity.

“That’s the Central City Second National Bank,” Wally said. “You have your gear with you?”

“Always,” Dick replied, who was already scouting a location in a nearby alley to shed his civilian clothing. “I’ll get to a rooftop and cover you.”

Wally was already gone in a crimson blur of movement and, faster than the eye could follow, he had doffed his street clothes and pulled the scarlet hood of the Flash over his face. It took him half the span of a heartbeat to reach the bank, his feet thundering down on the pavement.

The explosion hadn’t come from the face of the building but rather from the side. A large, gaping hole was centered in the alley adjacent to the bank, spewing out more smoke and heat. Six men wearing colorful, gaudy costumes that were all stylized the same began to step out of the hole. Each of them carried a burlap bag in both hands, filled to the brim with what the Flash assumed was stolen cash.

“Seriously?” Flash asked loud enough to catch their attention. “In broad daylight? While I’m standing right here? You guys must be new.”

The men all traded glances with one another and the costumed one in front quickly began to run to the waiting car sitting in the alley. It was a four-cylinder sedan with barely enough room for an average family, let alone six bank robbers plus their loot.

Flash’s fist connected with the closest three, zipping between them with ease. He paused amongst them so that his words wouldn’t be lost as a result of moving at a high speed. “And you thought you’d be able to get away in that, in the city that the fastest man alive calls home? Be honest, am I on Candid Camera?”

One of the colorful men took a swing at the Flash with his bag of money, hoping that the hero was distracted enough to get sucker punched. Before his bag even came close to connecting he was out cold on the ground from a flurry of scarlet fists. The Flash stood in center of the scene with six unconscious men around him.

“Flash,” Nightwing said.

The Flash tapped the golden wing over his right ear, acknowledging the electronic voice that had been filtered into his ear. “No worries down here,” the Flash replied. “I took care of it. These goofballs aren’t even on the same level as the Rainbow Raider. Where are you?”

Nightwing leaned over the ledge of the building directly across from the bank. His stance was completely different from that of Dick Grayson; he hunched over and his muscles seemed constantly tense; it was as if when the black domino mask was put in place over his eyes that he became an entirely different person. “Across the street,” Nightwing replied. “It took me a second to get up here, which I see is all you needed to clean these guys’ clocks. I took the liberty of calling Central City’s finest and giving them the SitRep.”

“Their response time is within three minutes. You recognize these nutcases?”

Nightwing pressed the side of his domino mask and the special lenses within reacted accordingly. His vision was enhanced as the lenses zoomed in on the alley, granting him a better look at the criminals. Their multi-colored costumes were very flagrant, with the same pattern running throughout each one. They each wore a mask similar in style to his own.

“I don’t know who they are individually,” Nightwing said, “but yeah, I think I’ve seen their file. They operate out of Star City these days and they go by the name of the Madmen. Ted Kord went up against them a few times. Basic lowbrow thieves for hire.”

“Lowbrow is right. So now the question is who hired them?”

Before Nightwing could reply he saw a small red dot cross over the brilliant yellow beltline on the Flash’s uniform. If he hadn’t been using the zooming feature on his mask he never would have seen it. Wally was facing away from him, with his back to the street, looking down at the unconscious goons. Nightwing was going to shout a warning but he wasn’t fast enough. A nearly silent plink! from a neighboring rooftop reached his ears and he saw the Flash collapse in the alley. Nightwing instinctively looked to his left, where the gunfire had come from, but only saw a dissipating yellow energy field fade from view.

“Flash!” Nightwing shouted. There was no response over the communication ear bud in Nightwing’s ear.

The spring-loaded grappler that hung on Nightwing’s utility belt was instantly in his hand and aimed at the top corner of the bank. He fired the device and a thin yet durable cord was launched out between the buildings. A spike at the end of the cord embedded itself in the concrete of the bank’s face and Nightwing yanked the line taut. He placed a foot on the edge of the roof and pushed off into the open air.

Nightwing swung down to the street, his fall broken by the elastic qualities of the decel-cable. He let the grappler swing freely as he ran to the Flash’s side. He checked Wally’s vitals and immediately noticed that his pulse was slowing but his breathing, while shallow, was still steady.

He tapped his ear bud twice to switch it on to an open channel and said, “Access secure JLA line. This is Nightwing. The Flash has been shot by a sniper. I need immediate transport for two to the Watchtower. Lock in on my location.”

Nightwing rolled the Flash over onto his back and began administering CPR. He carefully placed his hands on the Flash’s chest and began the rhythmic compression that he hoped would keep his friend alive until someone more capable could take over.

---

“Scalpel.”

The silver blade hovered off of the tray and was gently placed into the waiting hand of Ray Palmer, the Atom. In the medical bay of the Watchtower, Ray carefully made a small incision into the Flash’s lower back, where he had been shot. With great care and practiced precision, Dr. Palmer opened the wound in order to get a better understanding of what they were dealing with.

The Martian Manhunter, J’onn J’onz, had been on monitor duty when Nightwing’s call had come in. Using the Justice League teleporter he had brought them to their moon base, where Ray Palmer, the only other Leaguer on duty, had prepared the necessary surgical equipment.

J’onn waited silently in the operating room on the other side of the table from the Atom, ready to telekinetically provide whatever assistance the Atom needed. He monitored the Flash’s vital signs carefully, watching for any trace of cardiac arrest or other complications.

“If Dr. Mid-Nite wasn’t off with the Justice Society we’d have this figured out by now,” the Atom muttered. “I’m not a surgeon, J’onn.”

“You are the best available,” the Martian replied, “and you are more than qualified for an exploratory procedure. We need to get an idea of what is happening to Wally.”

Nightwing watched from the observation room hanging above the operating room. He felt helpless as his friend, who was face down on the operating table so that the Atom could have access to the wound, was fighting to stay alive.

An immediate body scan had shown them that the sniper had not used a bullet to take him down. The entry wound was much too small, hence the need for the Atom to open it further. In fact, the only external damage to Wally’s body was a small pinprick at the base of his spine. The Flash’s vitals were still dropping, although his brain activity, according to J’onn, was increasing exponentially. It didn’t make any sense.

“Damn it!” the Atom swore. He threw the scalpel down onto the tray. “I can’t see anything on the microscope. This isn’t working, J’onn. We’re going to lose him unless we find out what’s causing his body to shut down.”

“What if you were to enter the wound?” J’onn suggested. “If the problem is that you cannot visibly see whatever is attacking his system, perhaps a more up-close approach is necessary.”

“You want me to shrink down and actually go into the entry point? Do you…can you imagine the risk of infection? Even if I were to sterilize my entire body, when microscopic bacteria that naturally resides on the human body is miniaturized by my white dwarf matter it becomes impossible to control. I could infect him with any number of—”

“Do it,” Nightwing said over the intercom. “He won’t survive much longer. If this is your only chance, then you have to take it.”

The Atom’s mouth hung open for a moment to argue but he knew that it was futile. They were both right. Ray Palmer wasn’t a surgeon, and he certainly wasn’t a student of metahuman biology. His own scope of metahuman physics made him an expert on most theories of how and why their powers worked, but he was still baffled as to why Wally was in the situation that could kill him.

With another frustrated grunt the Atom ripped off his operating gown and mask. “We’re not going to let him die, Dick.”

The Atom crossed the room and stepped into the decontamination bath, determined to wipe himself clean from as much infectious risk as possible. He had watched Wally grow up and didn’t want to have to watch his life slip between his fingers. “J’onn, if you don’t mind,” the Atom said once he had stepped back over to the operating table.

The Martian Manhunter telekinetically picked up the Atom, raising him up and over Wally’s dormant body. A swirl of energy encased the Atom and before their very eyes he began to shrink. His proportions remained the same, but his total stature was instantly reduced to a mere fraction of his original size. Smaller and smaller he became, until he was visible to the naked eye as nothing more than a black speck. J’onn lowered the Atom over the Flash’s exposed lower back, setting him down. He kept in mental contact with the Atom, making sure not to lose track of him.

The Atom reluctantly entered the incision he had made in the Flash’s epidermis. He was small enough that he could see the individual cells fighting with each other to spill out of the wound. Red blood cells mixed with white ones, marking the body’s attempt to kill off whatever was destroying the Flash’s vital signs.

The Atom, fully garbed in a sealed off suit, pushed between the cell structure to move deeper into the wound. He recognized the lumbar section of the spine and was amazed to see how deep the wound went. It was no wonder he couldn’t make anything out, as he realized exactly what had happened as soon as he saw the nerve endings twisting up through the Flash’s spine.

A moment later the Atom was back out of the incision and expanding to his normal size in the operating room. As the swirling energy around him dissipated he turned to J’onn and said, “I need the feedback converter. He’s got a nanobot on his spine.”

J’onn’s mind immediately opened a drawer on the far side of the operating room and a handheld utensil was telekinetically lifted from within and delivered to the Atom’s waiting hand. The wand-like device was switched on and ran over Wally’s lower back.

In a blurred motion, the Flash was gone. A crash alerted them to where he had gone and they saw him lying amongst another tray of sterile surgical tools on the floor. He rubbed his head and looked up at them, saying, “What the hell just happened to me?”

“Wally!” Nightwing exclaimed from the observation room. “Relax! Don’t move!”

The Atom and the Martian Manhunter raced to Wally’s side and helped him back on his feet. “You had a nanobot pinched between the nerves of your L2, L3 discs,” the Atom explained. “A sniper put it there an hour ago. Easy, son.”

“An hour?” the Flash inquired. “No, that’s impossible. It felt like I was seizing for weeks.”

“It was cutting into his nervous system?” J’onn asked.

“It looks that way,” the Atom replied. “That explains why his brain function was increasing while the rest of his body was shutting down. Your nervous system was overly stimulated….it must have been hell for you.”

“Thus the need for the feedback converter,” J’onn said. “I see. You simply switched the nanobot off.”

“Right, but it’s still in there. We’ll have to wait for Dr. Mid-Nite to get here to surgically remove it. How do you feel, Wally?”

“Like a bus just dragged me from here to China,” the Flash answered.

“Did your converter get a specific reading on the nanobot?” Nightwing asked from overhead. “Anything we can use to figure out who made it?”

The Atom stepped over to a console in the wall, lowered a keyboard into place and inserted the back end of the converter into directly into a slot. “Let’s see,” he said as he began to analyze the data. “No real signature that I recognize. Although it looks like there were traces of photonic energy wrapped around the nanobot. Anyone could have made it but that photonic trace element is pretty unique. Cross-referencing with the JLA database…and it looks like we have a winner.”

“The Madmen?” Nightwing guessed aloud.

“Nope…someone called Bloodsport. Looks like one of Clark’s guys. It says he was last spotted in Metropolis teleporting weapons in for buyers on the docks. A mercenary.”

Nightwing recalled the fading yellow energy field on the roof next to him when the Flash had been shot. “A teleporter,” Nightwing said. “And another hired gun.”

“So the Madmen robbing the bank were a lure for me?” the Flash said. He still felt wobbly on his feet, but with every passing second he was beginning to feel much better. “Alrighty, I’ll bite. He’s out to kill me, but why?”

“That’s what we’re going to figure out next,” Nightwing said. “You guys mind contacting Superman to follow up on this Bloodsport guy? I’m going to run down another lead.”

“Sure, don’t mind me,” the Flash said. “I’ll just…whoa…”

“Relax,” the Atom said as J’onn helped Wally to a seat. “I’ll take care of it. Where are you headed, Nightwing?”

“Star City,” the vigilante replied. “I’m going to find out who hired these guys in the first place.”

---

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Next Issue: In The New Titans #2: The new team of Titans begins to come together as the investigation continues! Nightwing stumbles onto answers in Star City, while the Atom gains a new friend wearing a familiar costume in Metropolis. Plus, another glimpse into the nearby future of this fledgling group.

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