Story The Shadow Dragon of Gotham

[CrazyChickenLady]

The Shadow Dragon of Gotham

CrazyChickenLady

​

Raiden Akamatsu's gentle blue eyes focused upon his reflection displayed by the bathroom mirror, his fingers smoothing through his blonde hair. The golden hairs on top of his head freely stood up with a slight lean to the right until they peaked at his right temple. His hand left his head to massage a nagging ache from his shoulder. Even though he had been rigorously training in the art of ninjitsu, sessions still took a toll on his body. He was looking forward to a long night's rest. Garbed in a black night shirt with Batman's logo superimposed across the chest and a matching pair of sweatpants, he shuffled to his bedroom.

The bedroom was an oasis for a nerd rather than an athlete and martial arts enthusiast and teacher. Posters of various anime, super sentai, and superheroes covered every space of the wall save for shelves packed with comic books and manga and action figures, elaborate figurines, and a few collectible cars still encased in their original packaging. A few toy representatives of giant robots and monsters from childhood were placed on their own special shelf. Even though their market value plummeted from their scuffs and scratches from play, they were still valuable to Raiden.

Two cats and a rabbit were sprawled over his bed; there were three more cats bedding with his mother. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, dimples emerging from his cheeks. His fingers splayed over the tuxedo cat's cranium and massaged away. It was just them in the second story apartment complex. They left his father behind in New Jersey after the divorce had been finalized. Unable to conceive, his parents adopted him. His adoptive father had his hopes and dreams on a quiet and obedient son who would exceed in the art of ninjitsu, earn straight A's, and eventually take over The Lucky Crane School of Ninjitsu that had been started from his own father when he immigrated from Japan. While Raiden exceeded all expectations in his ninjitsu training, he failed everywhere else. He was hyperactive and disruptive in school instead of quiet and obedient, was a C average student instead of reaching those perfect A's, and instead of taking up an instrument like piano or violin he took interest in comic books. His constant jokes and goofing off did nothing to win the man's affections; he just couldn't bring himself to accept his son for his own merits. Now, Raiden and his mother opened up a second branch of the school, co-owning and teaching.

He left his cat to drift off to a peaceful slumber and slid into bed.

"Goodnight, Captain Meow," he said to the tuxedo cat. "Goodnight, Adam West." The orange tabby mumbled a sleepy mewl in response. "Goodnight, Shiro."

"G'night, nerd," the black and white lionhead rabbit replied. That's right. A talking rabbit. Shiro was the result of a series of bio-genetic experiments that blessed him with enhanced intelligence and the ability to speak. In a deep, gruff voice that reminded Raiden of Danny DeVito. He ended up in Raiden's home with his mother after being liberated by him. A series of animal disappearances cropped up all over New Jersey. The overnight disappearance of a beloved African elephant from her enclosure led to an infiltration of a multi-billionaire's company building where he discovered the laboratory and the missing animals on the basement floors.

The silence lulled him to a dreamless slumber...until a distant boom jolted him awake. The cats scrambled underneath the bed with self-preservation in mind while Shiro remained on the bed.

"Ugh...Doesn't this crummy city ever stop with the noises?" Shiro grumbled.

"Wonder what that was? Didn't sound like gunfire to me," Raiden voiced his response, tossing the comforter aside and leaving the warmth of his bed. His eyes darted around the grim atmosphere. A second boom drew his attention into the direction it originated. An ominous fiery glow rose in the distance.

"I...I think it was bombs or something!" Raiden concluded, alarmed.

"Then go do somethin' about it...Do the vigilante thing ya did back in the Jersey slums. I don't care..." Shiro grumbled, tucking his head beneath the comforter's fold.

Raiden flung the closet doors open, his shinobi shokuzu and collection of weapons and tools waiting for him. The vast majority of his uniform was pitch black to blend in with the night and shadows. The fukumen that hid his facial features, tekoh, belt, and the silhouette of a dragon printed on the back of his uwagi were a deep crimson. Multi-pocket packs were filled with shuriken, smoke bombs, and iron claws and strapped to each side of his hips. He forewent additional tools and weapons outside his katana, eager to investigate the source of the explosions. A third reached his ears as he slid the strap attached to his katana's sheath over his shoulder and across his chest for his weapon to lay in wait on his back. Not wanting to stir his mother, he made his exit out the window.

The fire escape assisted Raiden onto the roof. From rooftop to rooftop he bounded, his movements swift and catlike. Screams of the terrified increased in volume the closer he got to his destination. The bombed buildings were ablaze, smoke billowing from shattered windows. A high-pitched feminine cackle pierced the screams, but he could not yet distinguish who it came from. He perched upon the edge of a roof a considerably safe distance from the closest inferno. He surveyed the area for any injured civilians. A cloud of smoke thinned out, revealing the vulnerable form of Nightwing collapsed in the middle of the road. Most likely caught in one of the explosions. His heart jumped into his throat, adrenaline kicking into overdrive. The fire escape's ladders were ignored and the young man sprang from his perch, caught the railing, swung to the lower levels, back-flipped and touched the pavement. A mad dash was made to the fallen vigilante.

"Oh, man..." Raiden breathed, crouching and scooping up Nightwing by his arms. "Hang on, buddy, I got ya!"

Nightwing was dragged onto the sidewalk and propped against the brick exterior of an intact building into a seated position. At least now the possibility of a car striking him was eliminated. A pained groan passed Nightwing's lips. A sign that he was coming to! Raiden remained by his side for now. His attention was soon stolen by the unmistakable sound of a fight. A blur of black among a group of clown-like behemoths nearly coaxed a fanboy-ish squeal from him--Batman! He arose to full height with intentions on assisting him, but froze. The Joker's henchmen fell with ease from the Dark Knight well-aimed punches. Nah, he didn't need any help.

Yet, there was something else that made him tense up; the sensation of being stalked was pressing down on him. Another groan from Nightwing stole his attention.

"Hnh?" His gaze remained on him only for a second. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the notorious Harley Quinn, over-sized mallet raised high in preparation to strike. "Whoa!"

A split-second was all he needed to unzip his packs and fish out his iron claws. The mallet was captured in his literal iron grip. He tightened his hold to retain control. His eyes met her own crazed icy blue oculars.

"Celebrating the Fourth of July a bit late," was the first thing that came out of his mouth. It was in his nature to joke around with his adversaries.

"Mistah J always said Bats needs ta go out with a bang!" came the jovial reply, yanking her mallet from his iron claws.

"Well, you're doing a bang up job." A smirk tipped his lips beneath his fukumen as he leapt aback, yet he remained the wall that separated Nightwing and Harley Quinn. He needed to take the fight away from Nightwing if he was to prevent the woman from harming him further.

"Only Mistah J is allowed to make the jokes around here." Harley Quinn took another swing at Raiden.

"You can't tell me what I can and can't do!" he barked in a playful tone, meeting her strike with a powerful swipe from one of his tekko-kagi. The force shook his bones. "You're not my real mommy!"

"If I was, I'd throw ya in the orphanage in a heartbeat!" she retorted, reeling in her mallet.

"Ouch! My heart!" Raiden side-stepped in a crouch, steering them away from Nightwing. She turned with him, keeping her body faced with him.

"I'll make more than just ya heart hurt!" She lunged with remarkable quickness that Raiden didn't anticipate. Her mallet caught air as he jumped away with equal swiftness.

The chase was on.

She was fast! Raiden was pleased he encountered an adversary who could keep up with him. He skidded to a halt before the display window belonging to an antique shop. He wanted her to catch up to him. So far, she was proving to be fun. His eyes widened, having not expected her to suddenly hurl her mallet at him. He ducked and threw his arms over his head to shield him from the rain of broken glass. He slowly rose, shards falling from him, and peered into the shop. The mallet laid at the foot of an aged grandfather clock with its face completely destroyed.

A pun instantly was born. He couldn't hold himself back from sharing it with Harley Quinn as she closed in. He threw his arm into the direction of the clock and pointed.

"You defaced that clock!"

Her puzzlement was short-lived. Seeing the damage done, she cackled. Intending on retrieving her mallet, she dove into the opening in the window it created for her. She met the floor with a somersault and rolled to her feet. Raiden followed suit. Maybe he could keep her trapped in here until the police showed up. She was after him again, aiming for his head. Raiden dodged, a rack of vintage video tapes taking the blow for him. He took notice of a video tape with anime on the cover he recognized from his childhood. Snagging it, he waved it at the woman.

"What have you got against Tokyo no Doragonteimazu?"

"I'm not inta anime," she replied, removing one hand from her mallet's handle to snatch the tape from his hand and toss unceremoniously over her shoulder.

Raiden slapped a hand over his covered mouth, inhaling a gasp in feigned offense. "Now I know you're a bad guy!"

She chuckled and prepared another swing. "Bad to the bone!"

The deadly dance commenced. Swinging, dodging, striking, ducking, leaping, flipping, bantering, joking--there was a generous exchange of tomfoolery mixed with the engagement. Raiden hoped to wear her down, but she proved to be as energetic as him. He didn't mind at all. Enemies who exhausted easily were boring. A myriad of merchandise had been tragically destroyed beyond repair, but at least she was distracted. There was no mercy for the office where the store was managed, either. That was turned upside-down as the fight was taken out the back door and into the alley.

By now, both of them spent the majority of their energy. Raiden's hands and fingers were sore from the iron claws and Harley Quinn's arms were weak from utilizing her mallet. They stood far apart, panting, studying the other. Raiden firmly believed he had her. She was tired. Yet, so was he. It would all come down to who would succumb to complete exhaustion first. Harley Quinn lowered her mallet. Was she surrendering? One hand was released from her mallet, fingers sliding into the depths of her opposing sleeve. Alarmed, Raiden waited for what was to come. In a flash, a smoke bomb was thrown to the ground, clouding his vision.

"Sorry I hafta leave so soon, but I'll off ya some othah time!" her voice echoed throughout the alleyway.

Raiden smirked. Nice try, but using a form of defense that he was accustomed to using himself wasn't going to help her very much. He was trained to navigate through smoke his own bombs created. This was his believe until a fierce burn seared his eyes and spread throughout his face. What kind of smoke bomb was this?! This he was not prepared for! His mouth experienced the same painful sensation as he breathed. Tucking his iron claws back into their packs, he zipped them closed and groped for anything that would lead him out. He coughed and wheezed, feeling some form of relief once his fingers felt the cold brick wall. He followed it, but a coughing fit soon stole his control over himself. He felt a strong grip around his wrist, leading him out. Fresh air!

His fit ceased after a while and the burning died to a tolerable sting. His bleary eyes focused on the individual who saved him. Upon recognition, they widened with an excited twinkle.

"B-B-Batman!" he gasped, following it up with an embarrassing squeal that he could not suppress. At least the Dark Knight wasn't able to tell he was wearing nightwear bearing his logo.