ARNING:

This Fanfiction has been rated "M" for Mature. Reader's Discretion is advised. Extreme Violence, adult language & content, sexual content, debatable actions by characters, public trauma, extreme cussing, and other questionable events will occur. It is highly suggested that viewers younger than fifteen do not read this. It is also the author's suggestion that if anyone of any age feels offended by any of the content mentioned above, that they do not read it.

NOTE:

This fanfiction was originally delayed two weeks due to the tragic shootings in Aurora, Colorado. Events in this fanfiction contain events similar to those of the massacre and the Dark Knight Rises. However, this storyline was thought up before the plot for the Dark Knight Rises was revealed to me. Thank you.

Sam pressed Holly against the wall, her lips dancing against his as he pulled her in, intensifying the kiss. He slipped his hands lower and Holly moaned into his mouth. His hands moved softly as his tongue swirled about inside her.

They were broken apart by the emergency chime of Sam's police scanner.

"Revenge!"

"Draxx," Revenge replied, breaking away from his girlfriend and picking up his radio.

"Where the hell are you?!" Draxx yelled.

"I'm chilling. Why?" Revenge asked coldly.

"Somebody has forty hostages inside the Bank founded by Grant Industries on Ground Zero! That's why!" Draxx yelled. "So if your sorry ass-"

"I'm coming." Revenge sighed, already moving to put on his uniform. "I'll be there in five. Can you hold the fort that long?"

"Maybe. No guarantees."

"Was that smart-ass?" Revenge asked.

"No! Get down here now!"

Revenge cut the line and continued slipping on his armor.

"You gonna need me?" Holly asked.

"Probably not..." Sam said. "But you can come if you want."

"Nah," Holly said. "I've got homework."

Sam noticed she was fingering her costume.

"Alright." he said.

"What the hell took so long?" Draxx asked.

"I said ten minutes."

"No! You said five!"

"Ten!"

"No, five!"

"Hey!" another officer interrupted. "We've got forty hostages inside?"

"Right." Revenge said, stepping towards the bank. As soon as he got to the door, the building exploded. Completely. The windows shattered and melted in the air. The supports gave out and the building fell in on itself, fire engulfing the area, scorching the police vehicles black. Those in front of the cars were burned alive. The smell of charred flesh was clear in the air as Revenge was thrown a block and a half away from the site and lay unmoving, his suit burnt and his armor smoking.

Sirens wailed as ambulances, police cars and helicopters arrived at the scene.

"-the worst mass murder in United States history. Police have yet to confirm that there were forty-two hostages within the bank at the time of the explosion, but it is highly unlikely the suspect, who remains unnamed, moved the victims from the bank before detonating it. Also, at least twenty police officers, firemen, and doctors were killed in the extreme heat after the explosion. As seen on the left side of the police car, the explosion..."

"Draxx!" Emerald yelled, swinging down next to the police chief. "Where's Revenge?"

"He's two streets away. He's not responding, but his armor looks like it held up." Draxx said. The man was getting up in his age. He was clutching his chest and breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Go. I've got this." It was clear to see the police chief was struggling not to say something nasty to the female, but when he looked back up, Emerald was already gone. She ran up to Revenge and squatted next to him. His silver armor was smoking and still hot to the touch.

"Come on!" she said, reaching for his helmet to hold his head. A female African American emergency worker noticed and grabbed her hand.

"Nah-uh, ma'am!" The nurse exclaimed. "That'll burn the flesh off yo' hands. Literally."

Emerald withdrew her hand quickly and looked down at the black hero, who had been laying unconscious for the past fifteen minutes. A few loose strands of her blonde hair fell down, shrouding parts of her face from view as she blinked back tears.

Revenge's armor clanked and his eye slits glowed red. He used one had to push himself up off the concrete, which left a smoking black impression in the ground. He leaned on his elbows.

"What-?"

"Relax." Emerald said. "You got caught literally right in front of the explosion. I'm amazed your armor survived." she squinted her eyes. "How are you not burning up? No one can touch you."

"Fire-suit. It can stand temperatures up to 500 degrees Fahrenheit." Revenge explained. "It's also fire resistant. And I'm putting it on the outside as well next time. That way I don't look like a killer robot from the future."

Emerald smiled and stood up. He slowly followed, his suit clanking and hissing like a war machine. Black impressions were left sunken into the concrete from where he had come in contact with the ground. The nurses and doctors slowly edged away, but the two heroes didn't notice. Revenge's suit was definitely still hot, it was glowing in fact. The man on the inside burning himself. He could feel an intense pain on his chest. As much as he acted like he was fine, he really felt like he had just come out of the Sahara Desert. This entire smoking, metal body and his still glowing red eyes made people shrink away from him in fear,

"What-happened?" he asked. "Did the people-?" he was cut short as a microphone was turned on, attracting the attention of everyone in the area. Draxx stepped up to the news podium. He was now in charge of the Police Department considering all those above him were fried alive in the earlier blast.

"It has been confirmed," Draxx said as cameras focused in on him in the fading light of the cold December evening. "That there were forty-three hostages within the building when the bomb detonated." The police chief swallowed hard, trying to keep strong in front of the people he was supposed to lead by example, and continued. "More details will be released by the New York Police Department tomorrow morning at eight o' clock. Thank-thank you."

"No." Revenge said, leaning against a brick wall. It hissed and the nearby area shrunk in and turned black, but he ignored the sound. "Forty-three people. Dead."

"And..." Emerald said, struggling to get the words out. "And almost two dozen police and rescue workers."

Revenge didn't respond. He just stood for a moment, gazing at the asphalt of the road. After about two minutes he stood up and began walking towards the scene of the accident. He clanked as he walked, looking like a giant metal monster. Mothers grabbed their children and pulled them away in fear. Men backed away like Death itself was walking the streets of New York.

Draxx turned, his arm in a cast and half his head wrapped in bandages. He pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the metal monster.

"Hold on!" Revenge said, raising his hands in surrender. "It's me Draxx."

The officers very slowly lowered their weapons. They had moved from pistols to sub-machine guns. Very dangerous looking sub-machine guns.

Draxx looked the hero over before walking up to him.

"Go."

Revenge was taken back. No one-

"I said go you bastard! You walked right up to that door and don't have a scratch! Meanwhile SEVENTY PEOPLE DIED! HUSBANDS, WIVES; MOTHERS, FATHERS, CHILDREN! AND YOU DIDNT TAKE ONE SCRATCH OR INJURY! GO!" Draxx yelled, spit flying from his mouth and landing, steaming, on Revenge's scalding armor.

Revenge stood shocked for a moment. No one had ever talked to him like that. No one had ever had the guts to confront a walking tank with enough weapons to be considered an armory as well. He looked around at the guns still half-aimed at him. The police were ready to assault him at a moment's notice. In the other direction, civilians fled before him. Revenge slowly nodded and pulled his grappling gun from a compartment and fired at the nearest building, disappearing into the night. Everyone was in a stunned silence as the police chief sat back down on the back of the ambulance and continued muttering "Seventy people. Seventy people."

"Didn't suffer a scratch." Holly mimicked Draxx as she dabbed a cold washcloth on Sam's red and burnt chest. "The damn bastard..."

"Don't, Holly." Sam said, keeping himself propped up on his elbows as the woman continued to tend to his burns. "He had a right to. I arrived late and seventy people died. Families, pieces of families, officers, rescue workers and innocent bystanders. All died because I didn't get there in time."

"You can't-"

"Yes. I can." Sam said, laying flat on the end of the bed. "It's all my fault."

Holly looked down at him and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "At least we're both still here." she said.

Sam didn't respond. His blonde hair had darkened in the past three years. It was almost black now and lay in clumps over his sweaty forehead. The long strands went right to the top if his eyes and the base of his neck. His masculine form was covered in blisters and a sharp, painful redness that was appeased only by the coolness and smoothness of Holly's skin. He was left in nothing but some loose pajama pants as Holly laid the cool rag on his chest and started towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"Patrol." Holly said. "You are in no condition to go anywhere."

"Now isn't the best time-"

The door slammed shut.

"-for patrol." Sam sighed and laid back down. "Which I doubt you're really doing anyway."

"The leaders and political figures of New York City paid tribute to those deceased in the Saturday bank bombing today. While members of the police force and public departments payed tribute to their fallen comrades, the President of the United States had this to say..."

Sam sighed and carefully undid his tie. It had been two days since the bombing. His scars and burns still hurt. The blisters on his chest had begun to ooze blood and puss which had started staining his shirt at the end of the funeral. Holly was in the kitchen making something to eat while Sam continued to undo the buttons on his shirt as the news continued to play.

"Samuel Grant, CEO of Grant Industries said that, quote, "This ruthless show of violence-"

A knock came at the door.

"I've got it!" Sam sighed, taking his time to get up and walk over to undo the lock. He was surprised to see, not media, paparazzi, or other public personnel outside, but a single girl.

"Becca." Sam said, suddenly aware he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Shut it, lover boy." Becca said, walking in. "I'm not here to see your abs, so put a shirt on."

Becca was a beautiful girl of almost eighteen years. Her black hair was dyed with strips of red and hung at near shoulder length. She was wearing her usual civilian clothes: black shirt with some crazy white and red logo on it, dark, skin-tight jeans, fingerless gloves, and several tidbits of jewelry including a promise ring Dick Grayson had given her five years ago, promising the two would be together forever.

"Then why are you here?" Sam asked, stepping aside to let the girl enter before closing the door firmly behind him.

"Nightwing thought you could use some help finding the bomber." Becca said, walking into the living room and catching the final snippet of the news report.

"...police officers continue to double their patrol in light of the recent disappearance of Red Revenge and his partner Emerald."

Sam shut off the television quickly. Becca looked at him curiously.

"Tell me you're not out there looking for this madman because you have some disability, and not because you have survivor's guilt." Becca said, putting her hands on her hips.

Sam didn't reply for a moment.

"If you're here to investigate the bombing, feel free. Miss Nightwing or whatever you call yourself now can have free roam of New York City. She can move in for all I care." Sam said, sitting back down and slipping on a white under shirt. He cringed as the fabric scratched the painful injuries beneath.

Becca looked at him strangely.

"Now please go." Sam said.

Becca stood for another moment, emotions flashing across her face. She finally tugged her purse a little tighter, pursed her lips, and walked into the kitchen where Holly was still clashing things about in a desperate attempt to make something to cheer her boyfriend up.

Sam paid little attention to what the two girls were saying. He didn't precisely care at the moment. He continued to stare at the blank television, letting his thoughts drift off into space. His thoughts, however, stayed on one subject.

Becca and Holly walked out of the kitchen and continued talking, Holly shooting a worried glance at the slouched figure of her boyfriend before following Becca out of the apartment door.

"Thanks, Becca." Holly said softly as she closed the apartment door behind them, leaving them in a silent hallway. "I'm worried about him. Really worried. He never slouches. And he would never let anything stop him from investigating something as horrid as this. Something just hit home."

"Could it be the police chief going off on him on International television?" Becca asked.

"You saw that, huh?"

"It's been all over the news." Becca replied. "I think National Geographic is doing a special tonight."

"So what did you come here for?" Holly asked.

"Originally, you guy's help. However, I think I'll have to do with your computer database." Becca replied.

Holly sighed. "I don't think I can get away. He'll hold me here. But you can go to the warehouse."

"Is everything still- I mean, with him here and Sarah-"

"Yeah. Everything still works." Holly said. She carefully looked around before handing Becca a USB drive. "Passwords and everything to get online is there."

"Thanks, girl." Becca said.

Holly smiled and nodded, retreating back into the apartment.

Becca carefully turned the key to the warehouse and walked in. Although she had had a key for almost four years now, she had never gone in. It was much more impressive than she had ever suspected.

Large computer screens mounted an eight foot by five foot space. At least ten different monitors hung in that area, while five more desktops littered a large table. Different mobile devices were scattered about. The wood flooring was ruined, but the smell seemed to make the girl at home. She looked around. A stairway on one end. Two closets, one of which she knew led to a zeta-tube. A small room to the side. Two chairs, a ratty old green and yellow couch, a flat screen, and a small table decorates the room.

"Nice bunk." Becca whistled. She shook herself out of the observance and turned to the computer, plugging in the USB drive. The screens lit up. All of them at once. Becca stumbled back as a blue globe formed around her. She looked carefully as lines beget lines and discovered it was a global map. She gingerly touched the continent of North America. I zoomed in. She tapped the state of New York, the city New York, and finally the ruined bank. A list of options came up. History, people who visited, any and everything about the building. She chose crime and selected the bombing.

Within that were several more tabs. She chose video and an image popped up on the computer screen. It looked like a YouTube video, and very well could have been. But this data was locked up in the police station tighter than anything she had ever seen. Even she had been unable to sneak in.

She watched. A man walked in covered in full black. He shot all of the guards in the chest and forced everyone to the ground. He placed a large suitcase on the floor by the bank teller and walked off.

"Security footage, outside cameras." Becca said into the musty silence. She suddenly noticed the room smelled like cinnamon apples.

The cameras switched, and the teen continued switching views until the man stopped running. He was large, buff, and when he pulled off his clothes, looked very much like a Danish Viking. Blonde hair, long beard. Bright blue eyes. About six' five", maybe 275 lb. and all of it was pure muscle. Becca noted this in her mind silently for later use. The man grabbed a video screen and Becca suddenly noticed he was watching a live feed outside of the bank. As soon as Revenge got to the door, the man pushed a button, wicked grin plastered to his face, and the building detonated.

"It wasn't his fault." Becca breathed. "It was a trap."

She pulled all the information she needed, put it on a memory card and tugged back on her jacket. She looked around one last time at the place and finally understood why Revenge spent more time here. It was homie. Cozy and warm and a place that made her long for her own home and her own family. An image of a black rose appeared in her mind.

She shook it away and walked out.

"Now's not the best time." Holly whispered.

"But this is important!" Becca exclaimed.

"Well, Sam has someone else over right now, and you don't need to be here."

Becca hesitated. "Okay." she said. "Tell him to meet me in Times Square in an hour."

"Alright, thanks Becca." Holly said, and hung up.

'Probably some stupid politician who wants funding' Becca thought, walking away.

"For the last time, no." Sam said.

"Come on, Grant. You're gonna let all this work for the past six months go down the drain because a handful of people got blown up?!" Rose asked, throwing her hands in the air as she tried to argue with her partner.

"A handful?!" Sam exclaimed. "Seventy people died because I didn't get there in time!" He looked over the girl in her tank-top and jeans. He glared at her one good eye. "Am I supposed to forget all that?" he asked.

"No!" Rose exclaimed, brushing a few strands of her snow-white hair back into her ponytail. "But I already am in this too deep! I can't just pull out now! This plan has to go through. And I can't do it with anyone else!"

"Why not?" Sam asked. "I had an ex-criminal turned hero here yesterday who would help you. Especially if she knew!"

"Who? Grayson's girlfriend? I don't need a punk girl, I need Red Revenge."

Silence.

Sam sighed and slid into his chair. "I'll think about it." he said. "For you, Rose."

The girl nodded and walked out, glancing at Holly as she did.

"What?" Sam snapped as soon as Rose was gone, sensing his girlfriend had something to tell him.

"Becca called. Wants you to meet her in Times Square at three. She says it's urgent." the blonde stated, leaning forward until her arms were resting on the edge of the chair Sam was sitting in. He sighed and nodded. "Alright." he said.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Holly asked.

"Just dandy." Sam said.

"Now you're worrying me." Holly said, standing up.

"I don't see her." Sam stated simply. He didn't really want to find the girl at the present moment, but he had agreed, so he had come.

"There! In that alleyway." Holly said, pointing to the female figure.

The two had just started that way when the large television screens crackled and the advertisements for Coca-Cola were replaced by a face. The face of a deep southern hunting man. And the accent was as obvious.

"Hey there, citizens of New York City." the man said, smiling and taking the cigarette out of his mouth. "I see you've been havin' some... hero problems recently. I can help with that. Red Revenge, I wanna see you outside the city at the old nuclear power plant in two hours for a final battle. If you don't come... this precious city of yours goes up in smoke. Thank you kindly!" the man tipped his hat and the screen reverted to the former advertisements.

Becca ran up. "Well?" she asked.

"I don't have a choice." Sam said. "I've got to face him. I've got to face him or millions will die. Including you two."

The billionaire playboy glared at the screen before jogging back towards his vehicle.

TO BE CONTINUED!