[A/N]: Bit of characterization for the people that'll become Lucian's Robin and Alfred. Chapter also longer than usual 'cause I had a lot more to explore.
I also forgor to do EXP + quest completion + quest update last chapter, so it's going in the start of this one. I'm better now, so I guess the fever's stopped making me forget things.
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[ Combat EXP: 30. ]
[ Rescue EXP: 10. ]
[ Total EXP: 40. ]
[ Next level: 210. ]
[ Notice. ]
[ Chain Quest, Part I: Get Nosy has been completed. ]
[ Rewards: ]
[ [1] - 25 EXP; Item: Medal of Valor [D]. ]
[ [2] - 50 EXP; Item: Random Weapon or Armor [D]. ]
[ Total EXP: 75. ]
[ Next level: 135. ]
[ Notice. ]
[ The Host has selected a Weapon as objective [2]'s reward. ]
[ Randomizing... ]
[ Successful. ]
[ Item received: ]
[ Weapon: Blink Blade [D] ]
[ Item descriptions: ]
[ Medal of Valor [D]; ]
[ • Accessory; Neck; Enchanted. ]
[ • Passive Effect: improves the wearer's resistance to negative emotions. ]
[ Blink Blade [D]; ]
[ • Bladed Weapon; Versatile Grip; Enchanted; Bound. ]
[ • Versatile Grip: weapon's handle is primarily for one-handed use, but can he wielded with two. ]
[ • Enchantment Active Effect: can be summoned back into the owner's hand via teleportation. ]
[ ⨽ Cost: Low. ]
[ ⨽ Consumption Priority: Magic ››› Stamina ››› Lifeforce. ]
[ • Binding Effect: wet the blade with the prospective owner's blood. ]
...
[ Notice. ]
[ Quest chain has been updated. ]
– ৹ – ৹৹◎৹৹ – ৹ –
Chain Quest, Part II: Follow Through
Description: You are unequipped to lift the trance from Tamara Angela Watson's mind. Find someone who is and have them help her in your stead.
Duration: 48 hours.
Objectives:
[1] Find someone to help lift Tamara Watson's trance.
[2] Set Tamara Watson on her way to recovery.
Rewards:
[1] Success:
• 50 EXP.
• Basic Ability: [ Tracker I ].
[2] Success:
• 100 EXP
• Basic Ability: [ Meditate I ].
Penalties:
[1] and [2] Failure:
• -25% Spirit for the next 24 hours.
• Temporary Cursed Title: "Mark of Shame" for the next 24 hours.
[2] Failure:
• -25% Spirit for the next 24 hours.
– ৹ – ৹৹◎৹৹ – ৹ –
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This was it. Life was finally turning around for Nicks. There had been no small amount of struggle and danger to get here—the latter of which having mostly been his fault—but things were becoming better all the same.
He had Lucian to thank for that. His help wasn't anything grand, but Nicks couldn't bring himself to even think about hoping for more. He didn't want to lose this... any of this by being selfish.
He'd almost left Waylon all alone because of his old mindset. That had also nearly made it so that Lucian's efforts to save him—more than once, at that—ended up being for nothing. Sure, Lucian hadn't gone to save Nicks specifically because it was him, but the emotional investment was still there.
Nicks promised himself to be more careful now. No unnecessary risks, no more "hero syndrome." Just as much as he didn't want to lose Waylon or Lucian, he didn't want either of them to lose him in turn. Who knew what they would do if that happened?
Venting a breath of determination, he tied up the last bit of rope around the plastic box that held all of his belongings. It was a bit hefty for his skinny body, but he'd deal with it. Waylon was already carrying his own stuff. This was the least he could do—
"You done there, Nicks?"
Speaking of Waylon, he'd just gone into the hovel again. His hulking frame was hunched over and it still dominated the threshold's space. Slung over his shoulder was a large burlap sack, and he lugged it around like it weighed no more than a few pounds.
"I'm ready," Nicks replied, bending down to lift his box up to his chest.
Waylon chuckled at his struggle. Nicks heated up around the face, but before he could voice his frustration, one large hand had already scooped the box up from his arms.
"Let me handle that," said Waylon. "And don't you say no—this isn't nearly as heavy as my stuff. Just leave it to me."
Nicks frowned... but couldn't refute it. "Okay," he mumbled. He was humbled, too. Apparently, hero syndrome hadn't fully left his system yet.
Waylon chuckled seeing him get lost in thought. "Don't be so glum," he said, tucking the box under his arm like a larger-than-average basketball. Hand now free, he reached up and ruffled Nicks' shaggy black hair. "Lucian said the chapel still needs a lot of work to be comfortably livable," he continued. "If you really wanna help, do it there; you can take as many breaks as you need without worrying about keeping up with us."
Meekly, Nicks nodded. He wasn't about to try and say anything else. Sourness was already creeping up his nose and eyes, and he didn't trust himself to speak.
Thankfully, the next set of words saved him. It came from neither Waylon's mouth nor his—its source was outside. Lucian.
"Ayo! I'm here!"
Nicks looked up at his friend—the only one he'd had since he was little. Waylon nodded at him and stepped aside from the cramped doorway.
Nicks darted, and Waylon followed behind him. There Lucian was, just across the narrow street from their soon-to-be-former home.
He was standing lazily, weight shifted mostly to one leg, and he wore a crooked smile on his lips. He had a white-and-blue carrier in one hand, with a small, fuzzy black shape barely visible through the thin metal bars. In his other hand was a sizeable bag—likely groceries. He also had a piece of jewelry that he likely only wore in his civvies: a brass pendant hanging from a fine chain that shimmered with impeccable polish.
"Y'all ready to head out?" Lucian asked.
Nicks nodded.
"Yeah," said Waylon at the same time. "We got all our stuff with us. We'll just leave this dinky shelter for anyone that needs it... no need to tear down a good thing just because we're leaving it behind." He had turned around halfway as he spoke, casting one last wistful glance before turning back around to face Lucian.
"Let's go, then," said Nicks' savior.
He didn't feel bad about leaving his stuff to Waylon anymore. After all, he wouldn't have been able to keep pace with Lucian if he had to carry the damn thing all the way to their new home.
He could get used to being a bit selfish like that.
৹ ◎ ◉ ◎ ৹
Waylon, for the first time since who-knew-when, had a big, wide smile plastered over his face. His expression bared his jagged, nearly fang-like teeth for all to see. Damn near everyone within eyeshot freaked out or simply paled at the sight of him, but... he didn't mind. Not as much as he would have a short while ago.
Right now, he felt invincible to their fear and disgust. Walking in front of him were the only two people to have ever given him any real time of day. First was Nicks, whom he'd known for nearly a decade now. Waylon was eleven years old when they first met; Nicks was nine.
Walking side by side with Nicks was Lucian, whom he talked quite animatedly with.
Lucian was a bit of a wildcard. Waylon first met him in his masked form as a vigilante. That quickly evolved into them meeting face-to-unmasked-face... and the present. It felt as far in the past in his mind as it was recent in truth.
Hell, Nicks and Lucian had practically just met and they were acting like they'd known each other for a while now. Waylon huffed an amused breath at their antics.
"What do you mean 'bub?!' I'm not a bub!" Nicks whined.
Lucian just laughed at him. "You are so a bub. Smol. Very bub-sized." He punctuated his words by sliding his grocery back up so it hung from his shoulder, just so he could ruffle Nicks' hair. The way he did it was startlingly similar to how Waylon always did it himself.
Nicks' face froze at that moment, but defiance soon charged him. He glared up at Lucian like those words had deeply offended him, even as he subconsciously pressed up against the hand on his head. If Nicks truly was uncomfortable with that, Waylon planned to give Lucian a piece of his mind later, but he was just glad that this was a happy thing. And then, to his great surprise, Nicks blushed and looked away when Lucian retracted his hand moments later.
'Huh... that's new,' thought Waylon. 'Imagine if he actually swung that way...' Waylon's smile turned into a grin that made him resemble a crocodile more than he already did, even as his eyes narrowed into yellow crescents. 'Oh yeah... I'm gonna tease him about this later.'
৹ ◎ ◉ ◎ ৹
Well... here they were. Lucian had successfully brought Nicks and Waylon to his chapel. He was on the lookout for trouble the entire time considering how people were likely to react to Waylon's appearance... but it seemed like putting [ Valiant ] on full blast averted any interference.
That was good. Now, time for the bad.
At the edge of the trees surrounding the property, Lucian turned partway to address his companions. "Alright—one thing before we go in."
Nicks and Waylon stopped. The former stared up at him with his head cocked, while the latter blinked slowly.
"I've got a bit of a situation here," Lucian began to explain. "You know my work as a vigilante. Just earlier, I saved a woman that was this close to getting kidnapped... except it wasn't as cut-and-dry as I was expecting."
Nicks gulped audibly beside him. Waylon just narrowed his slitted yellow eyes and nodded.
Lucian sighed. "She looks like she's under the effects of mind control of some sort. Trance is pretty deep, follows orders but does literally nothing otherwise. Now, I don't wanna keep her here—I'm going out tonight to find someone that can help her. In the meantime though, while I'm out, I want you two to keep an eye on her and make sure she stays alright. You up for that?"
To his relief, Nicks said yes quite easily. Waylon took a second longer to decide, but ultimately shook his head and agreed as well. With that, Lucian brought them inside, pushing open the large double doors quite dramatically.
Lucian first brought Nicks up the tower. There, he got him acquainted with Tamara, and showed that everything was exactly as he said. He also left Belladonna—or Belle for short—under Nicks' care. They both came up with the same joke once the nickname was mentioned: the place was now called the Belle Tower.
Past that, Lucian also showed Nicks the supplied he's been collecting. Everyone was free to take from it as long as they minded the future. There was also the matter of the elephant in the room that had once been concealed...
"You have a sword?!" Nicks exclaimed when Lucian showed him the weapons stash hidden under a pile of dry leaves.
The sword—the Blink Blade in the form of a kriegsmesser—was not alone. Surrounding it were knives and handguns that Lucian had taken from the criminals he'd beaten. Compared to those though, a genuine sword, more than just a replica, was quite the rare sight.
"Yeah, that one's pretty recent," Lucian replied. "Got it as a reward for a job. No money, but... hey, it's magic."
Nicks' eyes gained a shimmering quality at the explanation. "Magic? Magic how?! Can you show me?"
Laughing, Lucian pulled on his connection to the Blink Blade. It turned into a flat, blue-white silhouette for a fraction of a second and disappeared from its spot against the wall. A faint flash of the same light directed Nicks where to look—the weapon was now in Lucian's hand.
Stunned, it took Nicks a few more moments to compose himself and find his words again. "Can I make it do that, too?"
"No," Lucian answered, fighting a smile at Nicks' little pout. "Only I can make it teleport, and only into my hands. Magic's tricky, and this one's magically bound to my blood."
"Do you think I could maybe get one for myself...?" Nicks then asked meekly, looking up at Lucian through his lashes.
"Eh, why not?" Luce replied. "I'll see if I can't get one commissioned for you... but I do have conditions."
Nicks gulped and nodded quite eagerly, shaggy hair bouncing up and down.
Lucian pointed at him, nearly booping his nose. "You're gonna have to train how to use a sword. I'll teach you, of course... but until you can wield one effectively, I'm not getting you your own."
That lit a fire in Nicks' heart, it seemed, visible through his eyes that glinted in the light much like Lucian's always did. "I'll do it. I want my own sword."
Pleased with himself, Lucian ruffled Nicks' hair and went down to check on Waylon.
Within the chapel's walls, Waylon was already getting settled in. He had cleared a section of the stage up front. It was by far the cleanest and most open area, so he had a lot of space to live in.
"Good to see you already getting comfortable," Lucian said as he approached.
Waylon let out a sort of pleased noise at that—a low, hissing rumble that had a laugh-like quality to it. "This place is pretty big for the three of us," he responded. "Walls are solid, too... and the roof's still holding strong. We won't have to weather the rain anymore as long as we take care of this place."
Lucian smiled, taking the steps up to the stage. He deposited a less-full bag near Waylon's belongings. "Them's canned goods and water, plus matches and charcoal. Just pick up some stones from the area to make a stove when you wanna eat... and feel free to scrap the pews, too. We won't be needing them."
Waylon nodded, eyes narrow with the "scaly" skin around them crinkled at the corners. After a beat, he asked, "How's Nicks doing?"
"Pretty happy," Lucian replied. "Also kinda promised to get him a sword, but only after I've trained him up good."
"A sword?" Waylon questioned, cocking a hairless brow.
Shrugging, Lucian gave the same explanation he'd given Nicks earlier.
Now that his "recruits" were getting comfortable, the last thing he did before leaving was advise Waylon on what to do while he was gone. His instructions mostly aligned with that Waylon had already intended in the first place: guard the chapel, and protect the others at all costs.
Now feeling secure about the affairs in his home, Lucian geared up and departed to find Gotham's dark guardian angel.
...
It took some time, but Lucian managed to find the old clock tower. It wasn't difficult; just tedious and involved a lot of asking around since he wasn't local. There was a lot of asking around mostly because he was already masked and people were apprehensive about interacting with someone like him. Still, he didn't want to bother changing out again, so he just dealt with it. He did get his answers in the end, and built up his Program's three-dimensional map along the way.
When he was closing in, he pilfered a marker and one single sheet of paper from a corner store. He made sure to leave money in excess of what they cost. Stealing was only good when done to bad guys.
The message he wrote on the paper was as follows:
"Ms. O. I need help. Can B spare the time?"
He was confident in addressing Oracle like this. Her being smart was already a given. The real concern was whether she was a thing yet. Considering where was news of Nightwing in Bludhaven and the Titans having updated their roster several times over the years, it was a fair bet that Batgirl had already "evolved" into Oracle.
Lucian came up to the entrance and waved at the cameras there. They didn't turn to him like he was hoping, so he just centered himself in view of one of them and held up the paper. That specific camera twitched—just barely.
The doors opened up.
Lucian gulped at the prospect, but entered anyway. If this was a trap and he couldn't escape, he could always sacrifice a finger and run for his life.
The first floor was dark and empty once the door closed behind him. A screen came down, and it showed Oracle's trademark avatar: a plain, unexpressive mask comprised of black polygons outlined in green.
"I've seen you around the city," said Oracle in a tinny and decidedly androgynous voice. "Why did you come to me?"
"I'm looking for Batman," Lucian replied. "It'd be impossible to find him if he doesn't want to be found. Even worse, if I did manage to find him, I doubt he'd give me the time of day. I'm just hoping here, you know? I could really use his help."
"What for?" Oracle questioned.
Lucian sighed. "I'm not actually the one that needs help, but I rescued someone who does. She's in a deep trance like some kind of mind control, and I don't think she's coming out of it on her own."
"Why didn't you bring her to the authorities?" Oracle followed up. "Or the hospital? Her family?"
Narrowing his eyes behind his goggles, Lucian huffed out of his nose. "What, take her to them like she is now? I'd just get blamed," he spat back. "People get emotional. Her family's likely to just throw logic to the wayside just so they can lash out at me to 'get justice' for her."
He paused, popped his neck, then continued.
"As far as getting her help goes, I doubt that any hospital can help her at this point. More than likely, she'd get picked up by some quack or mad egghead type to experiment on. Then you have the cops... I don't trust most of 'em as far the distance I can clear towards the moon. They'd just make me a fucking suspect, and you know how the legal process can get from there."
Silence followed his short tirade. Oracle's avatar flickered on the screen before nodding. "Alright," she said. "I can bring you to Batman's attention, but no more than that. It's all you from here."
Lucian nodded in turn. "More than I can ask. Best take my leave now. Where can I meet him, if he decides to be available?"
"He'll find you," Oracle replied.
—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—
[A/N]: Oracle isn't so easy to trust people.
Anyway, I'd love some Stones. Helps keep a mans motivated.
Constructive or encouraging comments would be great. Makes life feel less lonely.
Also I won't lie to y'all, I'm broke as fuck. If anyone can, I'd greatly appreciate some donations to the Ko-fi [ https :// ko-fi.com / mr_blorp ]
...
Now... my ramblings.
Rambling! Rambling!
He's yapping!
Rambling! Rambling!
B e w a r e !
Also some notes on the hirst falf of this chapter:
Yes, Waylon is only two years older than Nicks. Their circumstances made it so that Waylon's growth accelerated monstrously... and Nicks ended up severely malnourished. A lot of his development has been stunted, and with Waylon being the stronger and older one between them, the sense of responsibility for his only friend forced his mentality to mature much, much faster. This, of course, only stunted Nicks further in turn. Being around Lucian should help him mature a lot and catch up to where he should actually be.
Expect a lot of hero-worship from him, though lmao. Like Deku with All Might.