Chess not Checkers.
Dick knelt down and wrapped his arms around me. “It’s going to be okay, Peter,” he whispered, his voice gentle and soothing. I couldn’t hold back anymore, and the tears streamed down my face as I buried it in his shoulder, clinging to him.
It was embarrassing.
Why can't I stop crying?
Dick didn’t seem to mind. He just held me, his hand rubbing gentle circles on my back until the sobs quieted. Then, with an easy strength, he lifted me up and carried me back to the beanbag chair. He sat down with me still in his lap, my small frame curled against him. I clutched a book in my hands, my knuckles white, but he carefully pried it from my grip.
“Would you like me to read it for you?” he asked softly, his voice like a lifeline pulling me back to solid ground. I nodded, too exhausted to speak, and leaned into him, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence.
He opened the book, and I watched as the familiar words came to life. It was a good story—different from what I remembered, only slightly different, some words misplaced, or lines forgotten. But the boy did a great job telling the story. He must have really loved that story.
Damian and Tim, who had been lingering in the corner, exchanged a quick look before slipping out together, whispering about some project they were working on. Whatever it was, they were being incredibly secretive.
Dick sat with me reading. Alfred quietly entered the room with a tray piled high with sandwiches, fresh fruit, and crisp vegetables. I ate slowly, savouring each bite, while Dick’s soothing voice filled the room. He read story after story, his tone warm and expressive, drawing me deeper into the world of each tale. An hour slipped by like a dream, and though the ache in my chest hadn’t entirely gone, it had eased.
Eventually, Dick closed one of the books with a soft thud and set it aside. “I have to go now, Peter,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. He ruffled my hair gently before standing up, leaving me nestled in the beanbag.
The rest of the afternoon passed in quiet comfort. Alfred stayed with me, his presence as solid and dependable as ever. We moved out to the garden. Alfred pruned the hedges with practiced precision while I sat on a low stone wall, nibbling on the last of the sandwiches and watching him work. The smell of freshly cut leaves hung in the air, and the world seemed peaceful for a while, far away from everything wrong.
“Master Peter, would you like to play a game?” Alfred asked, putting the hedge trimmers down.
“Yes!” I answer, an excitement in my tone I had not expected to be there.
We walked through the garden, finding a chess table somewhere in the back of the estate. He helped me onto the chair, something I could really do myself, but why ruin the moment.
“I’ll start by teaching you the rules. This is an enjoyable game filled with strategy and compassion. This is not an easy game like checkers.” He explains the rules, reviewing each piece and moving them around the board like a tutorial. Peter knew the rules, but something about Alfred talking made him listen intently. “Do you understand the game Master Peter?”
“I think I do, Alfred,” I answer, getting comfortable in my chair, which seemed to have already been lifted for my height. “Who starts?”
He grabs both kings and puts them behind his back. “The right arm or the left?”
“Left.” I point to his left hand. He opens his hand, showing the white piece.
“You start, Master Peter.”
The game begins. I try playing to the best of my abilities, using everything I know about chess. It wasn’t enough. Alfred beat me within the first ten minutes. We played again and again. Each time, Alfred relentlessly beating me. Then, on the 5th game, I trapped him in a corner, putting him in check.
“I did it!” I yell, standing in my chair and smiling wildly. Alfred smiled at me with a joyful look on his face.
Did he let me win?
“Good job, Master Peter.” He clapped for me while I continued to cheer. “I’ll have to study up for or rematch?” I sit back down, still giddy from my win.
“I don’t think you have to; you're way better than me…” I smile, putting the pieces back into their correct spaces.
“But you’re young, so your mind works faster… If I don’t start working now, you’ll have me beat in a year or two.” He chuckles a little, helping me clean up. “Why don’t we make dinner? The others are a little busy and won’t join us tonight.” I nod in return, the two of us making our way to the kitchen hand in hand.
Dick was used to saving people; he’d been doing it since he was 10. He always considered himself a hero, but people get hurt all the time, and he can’t be everywhere at once.
This place ran for 13 years before we even knew what was happening. 13 years, children had gone missing, and he didn’t know. We only realized something was wrong when Jason told us about the children in Crime Alley were disappearing.
And even then, it took weeks to uncover who was behind it.
Jason and I spent night after night in Crime Alley looking for any lead. Then, one night, we watched a young girl get kidnapped, no older than 8. We followed the car and got her out, getting the information from the kidnappers, a lead, finally. Jason wanted to kill them there, I stopped him…Why did I stop him? Somehow, they got information back to the facility… They pulled the plug on the experiment, terminating all tests. Moving all their products out and to a warehouse, trying to salvage what they could.
When we finally got to the facility, they were all dead. They had chosen to kill all their test subjects… the children… to protect themselves. Thankfully, we got more information from the men who were tracking Peter. We learned where the heads of the experiment were staying. Tim spent hours researching, and we got a list of names. Cass had been stationed outside their base. It was locked down, and there was no way in or out. We gathered some information that they would be leaving tonight by plane.
“Nightwing, are you ready?” Bruce spoke over the intercom, breaking my train of thought.
“Yes, B,” I answered, my mind still thinking about what Peter must have witnessed due to my mistake… Why didn’t I let Jason kill them…
Killing is wrong.
Everyone who could be was here for this operation. The others wanted to help too, but were stuck with their own assignments. Even Jason put his ideas aside to help, as Bruce wouldn’t let him help if he plans on killing.
He was next to me. We were perched on the top of a building, waiting for the doors to open.
“The one that survived, is he alright?” Jason asked me. His red mask and voice changer hide any emotions.
“Yeah. He’s doing well. A bit traumatized, but that is to be expected.” I don’t look at him, my eyes shifting over the building we are about to jump into. The plan is taking longer than expected. “Bruce has all but adopted him. Those papers are probably coming soon…”I joke, looking at Jason knowingly.
“That boy should have childhood…” Jason scoffed. “He doesn’t need to grow up a weapon.” Jason sighed, clearly still upset about Bruce's choices in sidekicks.
“He has spunk…” I answer, my gaze falling back to the base. “And can lift a hundred and fifty pounds over his head without even blinking. I’m more worried he’ll accidentally kill anyone who tries to train him.” I chuckle a little. Jason sitting still, watching over the building. “B has learned a little, though… Has forbidden him from training until he is a healthy weight…”
“That doesn't matter. He should have a normal childhood.”
“That was taken away from him a long time ago, Red.” I don’t want to think about it.
The silence is only broken by the sound of the plane arriving, the doors of the base opening and five men in black bulletproof gear walking out, guns in their hands ready to shoot, then three people in lab coats, each with a suitcase handcuffed to their wrists. Five people follow, all ready to strike.
That's the cue.
I throw a smoke bomb. The men start to yell to return to the building. Batman and Robin are already standing in their way. Red Hood and I appear from the smoke on their other side. Black Bat and Red Robin are heading towards the plane.
They fired first, and the men in the middle ducked for cover as the men in black started shooting at us. Jason shot back, rubber bullets. Batman jumped in, taking the gun from the first man and using the butt of it to hit the girl on his right. Damian, taking a more direct approach, pulled out his sword and cut someone's gun in half, using his other hand to hit them in the jaw. I grab my two Escrima sticks and knock out the first person I encounter. They dropped like flies. There wasn’t a whole lot of them. Soon, it was just the scientists—three of them. I grab the first one by the collar, holding him up in the air, tearing his badge from his chest and throwing it to Batman. He took it and used it on the door. He and Robin head into the base. The doors close behind them.
“Please… I’m just…” The man started talking. I threw him to the ground. I walk over to the other two, cowardly on the floor.
“Which one of you is in charge?” I yell at them, my fists tight clenched. They remain silent. I grab the one on the right. Pulling him away, he lay on the ground. My fist hit his stomach first. “WHO?” He holds his stomach in pain, rolling onto his side. My fist hits his face this time, breaking his nose. I grab his collar, holding him up to my face. “Got something to say?”
“I can’t tell you… She’ll kill us…” I drop him to the floor, striking his face again and again.
“Who would you rather kill you? Me Now? Or them later?” My fists don’t stop. I didn’t even process what was happening until Jason grabbed my arm.
“Nightwing! Stop!” My arm remains in the air, ready to hit the man again. “I might be all for killing, but I’m not going to let you give up your morals… You’re too good for this man…” I drop my arm to the floor. The man under me is passed out, alive.
“Thank you, Red…” I whisper, standing up, whipping the blood from my hands onto my suit. “I don’t know what happened.” Jason put his hand on my shoulder, comforting me for a moment. He turns to the other two scientists.
“Unlike my friend here, I will kill you.” A pause. “And it won’t be fast, so which of you will tell me who’s in charge?” They were much more willing to give up the information.
The woman in charge is a scientist who uses the code name Hybridus. She sends them chemical formulas to the facility. She has never been seen or heard from, and she has never worked with the living children, only the bodies they send her for more testing. All communication to her comes from one man named Vermin. He’s supposedly inside the base now.
Jason gets on the comms, “Bruce, we are looking for a man called Vermin. He’s the only one who knows where the lady in charge is.”
I tie up the scientists. Checking the beaten man's pulse. He’s fine. He’s alive.
He doesn’t deserve life.
Black Bat and Red Robin made their way over, their own set of captives tied up and thrown out. Cass looked down at the beaten man and then back up to Jason as if upset that he had broken the rules.
“Not Jason…” I whisper. “He’s alive and fine.” They look at me strangely. “I got the information, okay? I’ll take whatever punishment B gives me…”
Cass spoke softly. "Are you alright? You seem upset."
“I’m fine,” I look down at the man again. “It won’t happen again.”
At the Manor, Peter sits on the kitchen counter, stirring a bowl of cookie dough with a mischievous grin. He can't resist dipping his fingers into the bowl for a quick taste every few moments. Alfred pretends not to notice at first, but when Peter goes in for another grab, Alfred swoops in and grabs his hand. Peter just laughs, his eyes sparkling with delight, and the two share a playful moment, the kitchen filled with laughter.