Looking down the scope for the fifth time, he was positive that the band of men were alone. Or as alone as you can get when traveling to an industrial park.
The security in the whole neighborhood had to be lightened after taking a harsh financial hit a few months prior. Which only served to make his job easier.
As their targets grew softer, so did the criminals.
It only helped Nightwing on patrols like this.
And it was finally time for him to make his move. Jumping lightly from the rooftops, traveling down those well-worn fire escapes, his feet lead him down that familiar pattern once more.
You ambush. You fight. You interrogate.
It was always a simple pattern to follow, when it came down to fighting the pettier criminals, and tonight was no exception. These crooks certainly weren't expecting the vigilante, and had arrived laughably unprepared. They hadn't even bothered bringing any form of deadly weapon. Just their fists, and whatever blunt object they could pick up.
Nightwing traded blows, but made easy pickings of the group, losing track of the number he was taking down. A few ran off, hoping to escape, but he knew they wouldn't be turning a new leaf anytime soon. If he didn't catch them tonight, he was bound to run into them later.
After making sure the would-be smugglers were secured, he grabbed one by the jacket.
"Mind telling me what's in the crates?"
...
NIGHTWING:
The Blüdhaven Chronicles
"Pilot"
...
Running and jumping home had been fairly relaxing. It beat taking the bus, or walking around like those pedestrians he had to keep an eye on. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop every crime-in-progress, but when given the opportunity, Nightwing took advantage of the cover of the night.
Upon finally arriving home, and gently shutting the window close, he allowed himself a quick glance around the near-immaculate apartment he called home.
The apartment was simple, with only two bedrooms that could be fully utilized; one that Dick used for sleep, the other as a very basic personal gym. But when one entered not from the window (as was often the case for Nightwing), but from the doorway (as Dick Grayson often tried to enter and exit from), one could be treated to a view of a sparsely furnitured living room, connecting to a kitchenette that was less often frequented. A few dishes still littered the counters, both in a mixture of laziness & intention, their sole purpose was chiefly to feign an air of actual living in the small rooms that Grayson called his home. In the compacted living room, Dick was always leaving extra blankets and pillows on his second-hand couch, both to catch up on sleep after late-running patrols and to add to the façade of his daily habits within the apartment, should anyone ever question how much time he truly spends in the confines of his own domain.
His goal now was to stagger into the cramped enclosure that constituted a hallway, with two off-shoots to the separate bedrooms, and a final door leading to a claustrophobic bathroom.
It brought him back to another time, glancing around at the blankets and discarded food items. When he was first starting out on his own, and it had seemed everyone was asking for him.
...
Gently shutting the door, Richard double-checked his lock, noticing minute differences a normal person would never dream of picking up on.
"You're lucky it took me a solid hour to find your stash, otherwise I'd say you were getting sloppy," a dark voice called from behind him.
"And you're lucky I decided to soundproof the place, Bruce," he growled. This was his third visit, and Richard knew exactly what the Dark Knight was going to be asking of him.
"The attacks are getting worse, and they're moving east," he said, setting some files on the coffee table. Rich ignored them and headed for the kitchen, eager to make himself a light snack instead.
"Whatever these things are, they're looking for something, and the League needs all the help we can get." Bruce followed him in, watching as he took out a bag of chips. Nonchalant as always, that was how Dick Grayson operated.
He tossed a few chips high into the air, catching them seamlessly in his mouth. "Then call in the Titans," he mumbled with his mouth full, "They'll be more than happy to work side-by-side with you."
Here the Dark Knight merely glared at the suggestion. They had this argument before, and it looked like they were going to have it again...
...
But for now, Grayson tried to let his exhaustion overtake him. He fell onto his bed without bothering to take off his Nightwing suit, and nearly fell into dreamless sleep.
If not for that blasted alarm clock and his early shifts at the police station, he might have dared to let it overtake him. However much Nightwing might've deserved the recommended eight hours, Dick Grayson still had his livelihood to uphold.
Sighing as he literally rolled himself out of the comfort of his bed, Richard knew that after pulling an 'all-nighter', his full-day shift at work was going to be hell.
He vaguely remembered peeling off the sweat-drenched suit and setting the shower to a scalding hot stream of water. The heat felt refreshing as it boiled away his tense muscles and allowed a bit of relaxation. He took his time in the bathroom, making sure that any visible 'battle scars' from the night were either concealed or could be explained away.
He splashed his face once more with the water from the sink before finally resolving to pick up his breakfast on his drive to the station. After all, there was supposed to be "some small cocina" that served the best tamales in Blüdhaven.
...
A void. One that he was familiar with now, yet it still felt too alien... He'd been to distant planets before, even traveled the galaxy in search of a friend, but this was something entirely different. A whole new territory, whose usual rules and physics had no bearing over him.
It was always filled with light, that much he was certain. A blinding light that hid every possible corner, that drew the eyes away from focusing on any single point. Making one's bearings impossible to grasp, seemed it's sole purpose at times like this.
He was floating now, and he had his Nightwing suit back on. He could feel her again. She was drawing him in, she wanted him to find her.
"Where's the Boy Wonder? Robin?" she asked again, always the same questions. "You were supposed to catch me... help me..."
"Hello?" he yells, worried. "Hey, I can help! Where are you? Tell me how I can help you!"
He watched as his suit melted away, into another he had recognized from many years ago. The notorious red and green, the well-known insignia, he had this old uniform back. Nightwing had faded back into Robin.
Following the disembodied voice, however, he should not have noticed these changes as quickly as he would normally. In fact, there were many things he shouldn't be taking note of. It felt like the light in this void-space was becoming unbearable. It was often this way when he was close to waking up... Waking up.
Wake up.
WAKE UP.
...
"DEPUTY GRAYSON, IF YOU DON'T WAKE UP THIS SEC-" "LET ME HELP YOU!" he yelled as he jerked himself up from his desk.
All the officers turned to stare at him. He smiled, trying to reassure them.
"Hehe, sorry Chief," he turned to his superior, "Um.. guess I was a bit more tired than I thought. Erm-"
"Grayson, it's high time we get you off desk-work and out there in the field," Sergeant Estevez sighed with disappointment. Keeping the green cop out of commission had been the officer's main goal, but as time passed it became apparent that the 'new guy' was more than ready to face the real work, head on.
"You're running patrol with me after lunch, we'll relieve Mark and his partner from their post in the Blüdbath."
The remaining officers who were spectating immediately dispersed.
"The Blüdbath, sir?" Grayson feigned curiosity. Everyone knew about the slums of Blüdhaven, and more importantly the crime rings that loved to operate just on the peripheries.
…
The early afternoon sun glinted off the roadway, heavily impeding the officer's vision, but it did not distract from one's ranting to the other.
"-worked hard to get where I am now. Got that wife, the two kids I gotta put through college, and here I am with Bruce Wayne's trigger-happy ex-ward. I take it you were getting tired of living in his shadow or something, but moving out here? You've just hidden yourself in an even bigger shadow-"
Estevez paused in his rant as he made a sudden turn, the private radio alerting them to 'suspicious activity' two streets away.
"-Blüdhaven's always been in Gotham's shadow, and it's never going to leave it. You would've been better off at that stuffy private school on the west coast that he shipped you off to-"
Officer Grayson continued his silent scanning of the streets, mostly ignoring his superior's words of wisdom. He could handle the judgement he received from his coworkers, if it meant donning the uniform would finally begin to mean something more than just paper work. Finally, he'd be able to help on two fronts; as the vigilante this 'Shadow Town' needed, and as an officer it can appreciate.
Besides, that 'stuffy private school' had too many bad memories with it. The Titans that he had been running with no longer brought any meaning to his mission. He needed to leave California, especially Jump City.
"Looks like we've found your first victims," Estevez nodded to an alley with some teens gathered at it's entrance. They wore varying degrees of apparel but most had some cartoonish snake drawn on an article of clothing, or a green bandana tied. They belonged to a sub-branch of the gang that ruled the Blüdbath, and one that clearly was looking to expand.
He stopped the car and nodded in a way meant to be encouraging. "Go on, see what they're up to."
"Sir, I... I think I know these kids."
As Richard stepped out of the cruiser and into the sun, he felt apprehension wash over him. Now he saw these aimless teens clearly, and they were so young. Too naive to truly know the danger that they placed themselves in by becoming targets in the ongoing gang wars.
He turned back once more to the cruiser. "I worked with them at the youth center a few blocks over, years back. I'll be able to handle this."
His superior merely shrugged noncommittally as he scanned the streets. "Just find out what they're up to."
Officer Grayson approached the teens, hearing whispered words of warning. "-Aw shit, the boy scouts-" "-guy looks familiar-" "-if we run, he can't take all of us in-"
Speaking up before the teens had a chance to gain their running start, the officer tried waving in a friendly manner.
"Any of you guys have a ball with you?"
"-the fuck-" "-ball? Like, basketball?-" "-wait, I remember this d-"
"Hey, Richie Grayson! You joined the boy scouts, just like you said!" One teen finally approached the policeman, giving him a long forgotten 'secret handshake', the kind thought of in early childhood's swiftly-formed friendships. The teen had disheveled brunette hair, with piercing green eyes.
"Guys, get a game of street-ball goin'. I gotta catch up with Rich here." He waved off the teens as he led the officer to an unoccupied bus bench.
Richard ran his hands along the bench for a moment, tracing the graffiti and brushing off the peeling paint. "You all had so much more potential-" he began.
"And we all had younger brothers and sisters to protect!" the teen interrupted, anger filling his eyes. "If you had stuck around more, if the cops ran patrols here like they should.. I wouldn't be in charge of recruitment, now would I? At least.. I try to keep it to minimum, y'know? But no matter what-"
"Nate, we're doing everything we can. The commissioner's finalizing a plan to break up the gangs! And we even have our own hero now!"
"Yeah, the big blue bird," Nate sighed. "But my friends, my family. We're on the wrong side... You've heard about those things that are attacking on the west coast? It's only a matter of time before they get here. There's going to be a war-"
"A war? Nate, calm down. The League's keeping everything under control. They've even asked the Titans to-"
"Can't you see it, Grayson?" the teen asked, fear shining in his eyes. "There's a something coming. We may not even have anything to do with it, but I sure as hell don't want to be a casualty."
The officer placed a hand on the teen's shoulder.
"... Let's worry about this war on the home-front first, okay?"
...
Nightwing stayed perched on the building, watching the city's lights slowly blink into existence. He still felt guilty for making his once-friend into a mole for his department. They needed the information, but he hated manipulating people, especially the kids he had been so close to before.
'Maybe I am just like Slade. Even after all these years...'
Shaking his head, trying to clear those negative thoughts, he finally noticed some sign of activity. A man was pacing the street a few doors down from where Nightwing was sitting. Another person in a dark hoodie had just left a shop, and the man hesitated before shadowing them.
"Great, haven't stopped a mugging in awhile," he grumbled before taking a leap to the balcony below him. At the rate he traveled, he would be lucky to catch the guy before he got any bright ideas.
The person in the hoodie noticed they were being followed by quickening their pace. They were short, quite possibly a woman or teenager or just a smaller man who had a penchant for hoodies. As Nightwing finally landed on the sidewalk, he saw a flash of bright purple hair. There was no doubt in his mind who this person was as the mugger pulled back that hood.
Reacting to the sudden move, Nightwing pulled out a birdarang and threw it, slashing the man's hand and face.
The would-be victim reached for the man's still-outstretched arm and pulled him forward, jabbing him with her elbow. Having him incapacitated, she then shifted her weight and flipped him forward onto the sidewalk.
"Okay! Okay! I give! Please! Stop!" he blathered for a moment before the hero finally gave him a swift hit, rendering the man unconscious.
As Nightwing cuffed the dissident, he finally looked at the girl he helped. 'Can't exactly say that I saved her.'
That unnaturally purple hair, it had to be dyed, right? And those wide amethyst eyes that looked.. bored, maybe? She was even wearing a dark blue hoodie.
But there was no way she could be...
"I'm sorry but... Do I know you?" he asked finally. His staring was sure to be noticed, even if he had a mask on.
Those eyes were still blank with boredom. Or maybe it was actually shock, and he wanted to believe that it was that familiar boredom?
No, definitely shock.
Of course, he should be making sure she was okay, not interrogating her. So what if she happened to look like-
All thought was interrupted as an explosion shook the street, heat filling the air around the pedestrians that began filling the street.
'Every damn person and their dog just has to have a closer look.' Nightwing was forced to make a decision.
"EVERYONE CLEAR THE AREA! GET TO SAFTEY! LEAVE! GO!" He ran headlong into the fray as the civilians began running.
Most of the city was still shrouded in it's post-dusk darkness, but as the flames from the blast began overtaking a few buildings, the street was lit up as if it were still day. Shadows from bent lampposts danced alongside Nightwing as he ran further, trying to locate the source of the blast, and hopefully the perpetrator as well.
Then the shadows shifted, growing shorter as a few flames literally rose out of a building and began following the costumed hero.
It was humanoid in shape, but that's where similarities ended. The fire appeared to be amassed at a center that floated maybe five feet into the air, with thicker tendrils that reminded him of ghostly limbs. They stood for a moment longer, as opponents would, each analyzing the other.
Finally, the beast threw a limb back, as a pitcher would to ready the release of a baseball, and flung it's 'arm' forward. It's heat seared the spot where Nightwing had been standing moments before.
Throwing the few freeze disks he kept in his belt, he charged the monster before jumping over it and closer to the fire hydrant at the end of the street.
'Just needs to stay put for a few more seconds.'
He made the mistake of glancing back, just as the beast had slashed the last of the ice away, effectively freeing it from being grounded to the sidewalk and allowing itself to chase him. Reaching for an eskrima stick along with another handy birdarang, he flung the projectile and bought himself another few precious seconds. Finally reaching the hydrant, he used the stick to regain the monster's attention.
"Here boy," he called, rapping the metallic weapon against the trap. "Ram right in to me. Go on."
The monster dove for him, knocking the hydrant clean out of it's place, and sending a steady geyser over itself, Nightwing, and the street. All that had been left were soaked ashes.
"As much as I'd love to stay," he told the perished being, "I don't exactly have my own Gordon here to explain all this to. But you're still coming with me." He pulled a vial from his belt and scooped a bit of the ash into it. "Just don't combust before we make it home, got it?"
...
Turning the vial over in his hands a few more times, Dick Grayson contemplated the events of the evening. First that strange girl.. that eerily familiar face. Then that.. Flame Demon? That's what the west coast media had taken to calling them, but so far the attacks had been slowly stretching further east. They were projected to take months to reach Central City, much less Gotham or Blüdhaven.
'Searching for something but certainly not.. She disappeared. She's gone...' He sighed. "I let her fall..."
Placing the sample back on his coffee table, Dick began peeling off his suit, readying for sleep. Suddenly the guilt he felt for manipulating that teen was being overshadowed by an even bigger sense of remorse.
"I could have saved her..."
...
Notes: Yep. This is a thing. It's happening. Special thanks to cockismybusiness via tumblr (affectionately referred to as Cocky), for inspiring all this. Actually, for coming up with this whole grand scheme. We've got a great season planned for you, dear readers. So be sure to send in your feedback! (wouldn't want any of those mid-season hiatuses...hahaha no siriusly, please review if you read, i need criticism please.)
Tune in next week for the next installment: "Wounds"
Same Bat-time (give or take), same Bat-channel.
