Nightwing & Angel - The Legend Untold

Timeline: June 24, 1951, 6 PM

In the private villa, the living room was bathed in the warm glow of the evening light. Mark, Loe, and Mindy were lounging on the plush furniture, a sense of camaraderie and focus settling over them as they discussed the day's events. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation about their mission.

Loe, his gaze fixed on the tiny figure in front of them, broke the silence. "Now, can you explain why we saved that little guy, Mindy?" His tone was a mix of curiosity and disbelief. The miniature man, who stood no taller than an ant, had vibrant orange hair and wore a suit that mirrored the attire of a businessman. He seemed entirely out of place in their current setting.

Mindy began to explain. "Well, let me start from the beginning."

...

Earlier that day, as Loe was discreetly planting eavesdropping devices in strategic locations, Mindy had sensed something unusual. She had been concentrating on using her telepathy when she picked up a distress signal.

In her mind, she heard a frantic voice: "Help!! Help!! I'm stuck in this stupid wire!"

Mindy had immediately recognized that someone or something needed assistance and had instructed Loe to plant the device in the location where she had detected the distress signal. While Loe was busy with his task, Mark pretended to work, keeping an eye on their surroundings. Mindy focused on tracking the source of the help signal through her telepathy.

As the day progressed, Mindy's intuition about the little guy being in trouble turned out to be correct. The tiny businessman was found stuck in a wire, and rescuing him had become their unexpected task.

Mindy, using her telepathy, had communicated with the tiny man, trying to calm him down and figure out how to free him. With careful maneuvering, Loe managed to untangle the wires, while Mark kept watch to ensure no one saw them. The tiny man finally emerged, grateful and slightly shaken.

Mark, with a nod of approval, said, "You did good."

Loe, still skeptical, eyed the tiny man warily. "What is he, anyway?"

Suddenly, the tiny man began to shimmer and grow. His form expanded rapidly, and within moments, he stood before them as a full-sized human. His previously bright orange hair now appeared more natural orange, and his suit, though still slightly disheveled, fit him much better. The transformation was startling, and Loe instinctively moved into a battle stance, his instincts on high alert.

The now full-sized man raised his hands in a placating gesture, his expression a mix of relief and anxiety. "Wait, wait! Let me explain. I am Gustav Van Doren."

"Yes," Gustav said, nodding vigorously. "I was just an ordinary businessman until my life turned upside down. My wife, Vivian, disappeared. I was desperate to find her, and my investigation led me here to the Chicago Outfit. After careful scrutiny, I discovered..."

Gustav clenched his fist tightly, his eyes flashing with anger and determination. "They took her. Those bastards took her. I was trying to uncover their secrets, hoping to find a lead on Vivian. But I got caught in the wires when I attempted to move between locations."

Loe, still skeptical, furrowed his brow. "Are you sure about this?"

Gustav nodded, his expression resolute. "Yes, I'm certain. The Outfit has a dark underbelly, one that's involved in more than just shady business dealings."

Loe turned to Gustav. "And why did they take your wife? And how did you… you know… become like this?" Mark nodded in agreement with Loe's question.

Gustav took a deep breath and began, "Let me explain how everything unfolded. Long ago, after what happened at the 'old Hoog place,' my life took an unexpected turn. I was just an ordinary businessman, trying to make a living. Vivian and I decided to move to this isolated house, thinking it would be a fresh start away from the chaos of our previous life. But it soon became apparent that this house had a sinister history."

Gustav's eyes grew distant as he recounted the events. "The house was rumored to be linked to strange experiments. Even though there were whispers of animal mutations, we decided to move in anyway. It seemed like a chance for a new beginning."

He paused, his expression haunted. "Soon, things started to go wrong. I began having disturbing dreams—bizarre, grotesque images that I couldn't shake off. And at night, the house seemed alive, whispering secrets that I couldn't understand."

Gustav's voice trembled as he continued. "Then one night, Vivian disappeared. I was frantic, searching everywhere. That's when I saw it—a giant ant dragging her into an underground tunnel. My heart was pounding as I followed it, desperate to save her. The tunnel was treacherous, and before I knew it, I fell into some sort of mysterious substance. When I woke up, everything had changed."

Mark furrowed his brow, trying to piece things together. "So you mean those ants were related to the Chicago Outfit?"

Gustav nodded gravely. "Yes. When I was searching for Vivian, I saw that man—Alphonse Capone. I wondered why he was there when he should have been in Chicago."

Mindy interjected, "So you followed them towards Chicago?"

Gustav nodded again, his expression weary. "Yes. I spent two days searching for clues. But eventually, I got trapped, and that's when you found me and saved me."

Mark turned to Loe, his eyes conveying trust. "Okay, we believe you."

Loe sighed deeply, shaking his head as if trying to process the surreal story. "It sounds crazy, but if Mark says he believes you, then I don't have much of a choice."

Mindy's face brightened with a grateful smile, her eyes shining as she looked at Loe. "Loe..."

Loe, caught off guard by Mindy's gaze, shifted uncomfortably. His usual sassy demeanor faltered as he muttered, "Stop looking at me like that."

Mindy, sensing his discomfort, blushed slightly and stammered, "S-sorry."

Unbeknownst to Mindy, Loe's ears had turned a bright shade of red, betraying his embarrassment. His typically tough exterior cracked under Mindy's warm gaze. Despite his usual sassy attitude and tsundere demeanor, he found himself flustered and self-conscious whenever she looked his way. It was a side of him he rarely let anyone see, a subtle hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his bravado.

........

In the dimly lit room of the 69 Headquarters, Atlas Pendragon Holtwood, a sorcerer who had defied the ravages of time through his magical prowess, sipped from a glass of rich, dark wine. Despite his age exceeding ninety years, he appeared as youthful as someone in their thirties, a testament to the arcane arts he wielded.

The door to his private chamber creaked open, and Princess Lysandra D'Verte, a striking vampire princess with an air of regal authority, entered. Her presence was commanding, her eyes flashing with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

Atlas glanced up from his glass, acknowledging her arrival with a nod. "You are here, Princess."

Princess Lysandra, her posture rigid with an underlying irritation, responded coolly. "I did what you ordered me."

"Good..." Atlas said, his voice dripping with approval. He took another slow sip of his wine, savoring its complex flavor.

Princess Lysandra's irritation became more apparent as she tilted her head slightly. "Why do we need to keep that spider-man busy? Why not simply eliminate him and his comrades?"

Atlas's eyes narrowed slightly as he set his glass down. "That won't do. I've seen in my visions that in 1952, he will endure suffering beyond death. His love will perish before him, and his existence will fade from memory. This will serve our purpose far better than a quick death. We will conquer the world, and he will be a part of that spectacle."

A smile crept across Princess Lysandra's face, though it was tinged with skepticism. "You better be right."

"I'm always right, Princess..." Atlas replied with unwavering confidence. His tone carried an edge of finality.

He took another sip from his glass, then turned his gaze back to Lysandra. "Now, call Litzo and proceed with the plan."

Princess Lysandra's eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance. "Just to be clear, I'm not your slave, but your companion. I'll let it slide this time out of respect for your magical power."

Atlas nodded in acknowledgment, his mind already shifting to darker thoughts. As he contemplated the future, he murmured to himself, "Let's first deal with those two rats.." referring to Mark Fletcher, also known as Nightwing, and Loe Halloway, aka Angel. Atlas had seen in his visions that these two would become a significant obstacle in their operations in Chicago. His visions had also foreseen Angel's demise, a fact that pleased him immensely.

A sinister smile formed on Atlas's lips as he thought, "Soon, my revenge will be complete. After I am done with them, the world will bow before us, just as I intended."

His gaze hardened with resolve as he plotted the downfall of his enemies and the eventual conquest he so eagerly awaited.

.......

Bill Gregory looked around the alley, his face pale with shock. The scene was horrifying: bloodied bodies lay scattered, twisted in unnatural ways. It was clear that the attackers had been incredibly savage. The wounds were deep and claw-like, suggesting the work of a beast. As Bill touched the bloody evidence, his hands shook, realizing the violence was beyond anything he had expected.

"It was done by a beast," Bill murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper. The primal nature of the attack fit his assumptions of a wild creature, though the truth was far darker.

In reality, the beast responsible for this horror was not an animal but a mutant human known as Sabretooth. The creature's rage and relentless pursuit of Logan had driven him to this savagery, tearing through the city in search of his prey.

Bill Gregory looked at his bloodstained hand and was suddenly overwhelmed by painful memories. He remembered his time as a U.S. Army captain patrolling the American frontier. He had once stood as a formidable line of defense, tasked with maintaining peace between settlers and Apache tribes. But everything changed during a brutal attack on their fort.

In the aftermath, Bill's unit had been decimated. The attackers had overwhelmed them, and in a moment of chaos, Bill had fought with a desperation fueled by fear and confusion. He had slaughtered the attackers with a ferocity that haunted him, but the real torment was the realization that his actions had cost him his comrades. The survivors, once his friends and allies, were now gone, their lives snuffed out in the violence he had been part of.

As the fort burned and the frontier fell into disarray, Bill grappled with the weight of his actions. He began to question everything he had believed in. Could his best friend, Alan Krandal—the Apache Kid—really have been responsible for the assault on their fort? Was the violence he had unleashed a direct result of his misplaced trust? The doubts and guilt gnawed at him, feeding his fear that perhaps his comrades' suspicions were justified.

The crushing burden of responsibility and the fear of being wrong drove him to a breaking point. He chose to retire, abandoning his role and fleeing the memories of a past he could no longer reconcile. He took on the full weight of responsibility for the deaths of his comrades, resigning himself to a life of self-imposed penance.

He had hoped to escape the violence that had once marked his life.

Then the distant cry for help pierced through his thoughts. "Captain, help us! Help us!"

Bill's expression hardened as he repeated to himself, "I'm not captain anymore. I'm not captain anymore." The words were a mantra, a desperate attempt to distance himself from the role that had defined his past and to cope with the bloodshed surrounding him.

He had hoped to escape the violence that had once marked his life, but it seemed that fate had other plans. As he stood amidst the carnage, the weight of his past and the brutal present collided, threatening to pull him back into the fray he had tried so hard to leave behind.

To be continue