GRAYSON: ETERNAL: PART TWO - THE MISSION BEGINS

Dick did not want a new mission. Not at all. Especially with how the last mission ended up.

But there he was, sitting in a stealth jet with the Patron and Matron. That’s right- he was on a mission with the leaders of Spyral. Helena and Tiger.

Tiger had left the reigns of Spyral to Keshi, his close friend and ally.

Dick, Helena, and Tiger were headed to Suopo, China. A criminal mastermind by the name of Zhou He had taken to the small town, apparently mustering a tiny militia for reasons unbeknownst to Spyral. They did know, however, that her army was armed with extremely powerful weapons. RPGs. Missile systems. Assault rifles. Tanks. Military jets. Everything.

Really, Dick and Helena could’ve gotten the job done on their own, but Tiger had wanted to come so he could be there for Dick. Sometimes, Tiger could be a softy.

“You two rrrrrrrready?” Tiger said, rolling the “r” as he did often.

Dick looked at Helena, and saw that she was already nodding. He nodded as well.

“You must both be prepared for-”

“Tiger, I’m just as skilled as you,” Helena said, “I don’t need your warnings.”

“Agent 37 may benefit from them,” Tiger pointed out.

“I think I’ll be good,” Dick said, patting the pistol clipped to his belt. There was also a cable with a grappling claw, two flashbangs, two grenades, and some a putty substance with explosive properties, similar to the explosive gel Batman used. Except that instead of destabilizing and exploding once out of its container, this gel could be remotely detonated, giving its user a tactical edge.

“You’ve got a pistol,” Tiger said, “Congratulations. Zhou will make an example of all three of us if we’re not ready. Heed my advice.”

“What’s your advice?” Helena asked.

“Stay clear of Zhou’s army. At all costs. Observe from afar. If you are approached, submit. Follow their every order. They rule. Remember your cover.”

Dick had adopted the undercover name Marv Wolfman, in Suopo on a trip around the world. Helena was posed as a woman named Paula Brooks, who had come to Suopo for spiritual rebirth. Suopo was a very ancient, mythical place, with stone towers erected as supposed magic sites. Tiger did not have an identity, as he would remain outside of the town, only coming in if he was needed.

“Paula, what do you hope to find here in Suopo?” Dick asked.

“A connection from the core of the Earth, to the core of myself,” Helena said in a spaced-out tone, “What about you, Marv?”
“Gotta find adventure, y’know?” Dick said in a typical surfer voice, “See the world while I’m young and free.”

“You two play the parts convincingly enough,” Tiger said, rubbing his temples, “And I hate who you have become.”

“Back off with the hate,” Dick shrugged, still keeping the Marv character.

“Hate interrupts the flow of my chi,” Helena agreed.

“Jesus. How close arrrre we to Suopo?” Tiger asked.

“Thirteen minutes until drop off,” the pilot answered, without moving.

“Suit up,” Tiger ordered.

-

Dick wore baggy sweats, with a blue shirt on his torso. He had a suitcase hanging from his shoulder. Helena had a cilantro green t-shirt with a tree symbol, and charcoal gray jeans. A brown backpack was slung over both arms.

“Drop off in ten…” the pilot began.

Tiger pulled straps across his chest, tethering himself to his seat. Dick and Helena gripped poles. The back hatch of the jet opened, and the air was filled with a harsh screeching. Dick and Helena’s bodies became flags, spasming in the vortex.

Tiger tapped his ear. Dick and Helena did the same. All three heard soft, simultaneous beeps.

“Nine…”

“Good luck,” Tiger saluted.

“Eight…”

Helena gave a quick salute back.

“Seven…”

Dick gave a shaky smile.

“Six…”

“37, are you okay?” Tiger asked.

“Five…”

Dick was not okay.

“Four…”

He was nervous.

“Three…”

Terrified.

“Two…”

Memories of his previous mission flooded his mind.

“One…”

He and Helena let go of the poles, and zipped out of the jet.

-

NINE MONTHS AGO…

“Come on, 54,” Dick hissed, ducking behind a sedan. Bullets shredded the once still air only centimeters above his head.

“I’m on my way, 37,” Agent 54 responded through his earpiece.

“Be on your way faster,” Dick said.

He and Agent 54, or Jorge to close friends, were on a mission in Syria, to stop a slave trader named Asi Slimam.

Asi had connections in high places. All throughout the Syrian government, high-ranking officials turned a blind eye to Asi’s operation.

Spyral had caught wind of Asi’s dastardly business, and sent Dick and Jorge to shut him down. They didn’t see him as a real threat, because at the time Dick and Jorge were deployed, capturing Asi had been considered somewhat of a joke. That’s why Dick and Jorge was chosen. They were both skilled, but refused to use guns, putting them at a disadvantage.

“I’m on my way as fast as I can be!” Jorge exclaimed.

“Well be faster than as fast as you can be!” Dick shot back, not comprehending what came out of his mouth.
The gunfire stopped. The smell of hot sulfur filled the air, and Dick cringed. He dared to peek through the shattered windows of the blue sedan he was crouched behind.

Two men armed with machine guns were approaching the car. One had frizzy black hair sprouting from his shiny scalp in clumps. The other had curly brown hair, with peachfuzz on his chin. Dick almost snickered upon seeing them.

“Go get ‘im,” Frizz nudged Peachfuzz.

“You go,” Peachfuzz shot back, bumping Frizz with the stock of his machine gun. Frizz scowled, and meandered over to Dick’s location.

Dick sprang out of cover, and swung his leg up in an arc, smashing his heel against Frizz’s jaw. He seemed to glide towards Peachfuzz, readying a punch. Peachfuzz pulled his gun up to aim at Dick. He squeezed the trigger, spraying bullets. Dick somersaulted to the right of Peachfuzz, then popped back up and swiftly knocked Peachfuzz in the chin.

Frizz and Peachfuzz were down.

“Never mind, 54,” Dick shrugged, “Take all the time you need.”

Static in the earpiece.

“54?”

Silence.

“Jorge?” Dick asked, his voice breaking.

-

PRESENT…

Dick sat on a shaky bed frame. A tattered mattress rested on the floor next to the bed, with a ratty sheet on top of it. He had found refuge with a family of goat farmers who happened to have an open room after their son had joined the group known as the Wūshī, or the Shamans in English. Zhou’s army.

Dick ruffled through his duffel bag. Much of the space had been occupied by the parachute, but he had quickly disposed of it after landing. Now, there were a few loose t-shirts and shorts. In a secret pocket at the bottom was his belt with all of his tools.

He tucked his bag under his bed, and exited the plain room. The floorboards under him were old and creaky, made from wood that had to be around with the dinosaurs. He descended a shaky staircase, and smiled to his hosts.

Mao and Liang Sung were an older couple, with sparse white hair dotting their heads. They smiled back with wrinkled lips, stretching their small faces. They were the most adorable old couple Dick had ever seen.

“Wǒ yào qù tǎlóu,” Dick said, informing them he was headed to one of the towers. He wasn’t great in Chinese, but decent enough to get the point across. Mao, the old man, nodded, and waved Dick off.

Dick strolled through the peaceful town, smiling in spite of himself. Maybe this really was what he needed. This was relaxing.

Suddenly, a choking noise filled the air. Dick whipped around, and saw a rusted truck sputtering down the dirt path towards Dick. Echoes of a former coat of chrome paint hovered within the rust. Six soldiers sat on a flat trailer on the back, gripping assault rifles. Dick stepped off of the path, allowing them to pass. All six soldiers narrowed their eyes at the white boy as they rolled by. Dick stuck out like a sore thumb.

The truck made it to the end of a dense forest, but Dick could steal hear its screeching. Dick rushed to the edge of the forest, and scurried up a sickly tree. He followed the truck, using trees as cover.

“37, what are you doing?” Tiger asked through the comms, “Your heat signature is acting up. Starting and stopping. What are you doing?”

“Disobeying orders,” Dick said between leaps.

“Dammit, Dick, what are you thinking?” Tiger growled.

“Listen, Tiger, I’m just on recon,” Dick explained, “I’ll observe, just not from afar. I’m following a transport of soldiers through the trees. Maybe I can get some insight on what they’re here for.”

Tiger didn’t respond for a few seconds.

“Fine,” Tiger sighed, “Don’t get caught.”

“I never do.”

That was a lie.

“Wait, Dick can stray from the plan, but I can’t?” Helena complained, “I’m the leader of Spyral! I should be able to do whatev-”

“One of the leaders,” Dick chuckled. She hated it when he corrected her. But it was true. Helena and Tiger were both held in the same light.

“On this mission, I am in charge,” Tiger pointed out.

This was true. They had taken a quick poll within the group, and Tiger won with his and Dick’s vote.

“As long as I am leader, you will follow orders,” Tiger stated.

“Unless your name is Dick Grayson,” Helena said.

Dick held his finger against his right ear for a few seconds, until their voices cut out.

The truck stopped in the middle of the forest. Dick paused in a tree about ten yards away, and probably twenty yards above the ground.

The six soldiers in the trailer hopped off, and walked around to the front of the truck. A seventh soldier stepped out of the driver’s seat.

The seven soldiers stood in line in front of the truck, and held their arms stiffly at their sides.

Chopping could be heard in the distance. Dick squinted into the sky, and saw a dot on the horizon. It was growing. Dick’s earpiece beeped. He tapped it.

“That’s Zhou, right?” Helena asked.

“Most likely,” Dick nodded, “I doubt any of the locals have a helicopter in their basement.”

“37, get out of there. You’ll be easy to spot from the air,” Tiger said.

“Tiger, this could be important,” Dick said.

“You not getting exposed is equally as important,” Tiger argued, “Agent 37, evacuate the forest. Right. Now.”

Dick deactivated the earpiece once again.

“Sorry, Tiger,” Dick muttered under his breath. About a minute later, the helicopter was directly above him. It shifted to the side a bit, and lowered to the ground, in front of the soldiers.

Three soldiers got out of the helicopter, followed by a familiar face.

Rich brown skin. A white mask over the top of his head, ending at his nose. An orange design stretched across the mask near his eyes. Scarred lips. Sparse, coarse whiskers. Buzzed black hair.

On his torso was a tan, sleeveless jacket, with an orange, jagged triangle around the neck. Both arms were bulging with thick muscles. On his left hand was a golden gauntlet, with claws on the end. Chain links were layered over the top of his hand, and red glowing buttons were scattered across his forearm.

Raptor.