I just wanted to stick a Nightwing story in the archives.
Bludhaven
Unlike popular belief, Slade Wilson found that the quickest way to evade capture after assassination was to take the bus.
Naturally, without orange and black.
Originally, he would kill the man, perhaps do a small pose for the camera, and then vanish through the window. However, after several camera shots, he began to find it all a bit of a bore. Eventually, he found it much more entertaining to dress as a reporter, policeman, or even a clerk, just to observe the effect of his murders first-hand.
It was almost sad, the lengths one must go to be entertained.
On this particular murder, he opted to be a musician. The violin case was slung on the shoulder as he calmly weaved through the many panicked cellists, as the conductor's many girlfriend's swarmed about the body screaming bloody murder. It was interesting, he thought, what little observation skills society has. If one were to see a man shot down and swarms of people crowding about the said man in utter panic, and one single, unknown face were to walk the opposite direction, would one not be the slightest suspicious?
It was sloppy, Slade knew. But he was bored. He began to crave chase, a challenge to the point where he, an assassin, chose to take the bus. He had many a time, as few would ever think that the great Deathstroke the Terminator would ride the bus. He enjoyed leaning against the neighboring chair watching individual faces, predicting their reactions if they knew a mass-murderer were amongst them.
But that night it was stormy. Slade found it rather cliché. The whole lightning flashing the sky for a moment, followed by the delayed reaction of thunder. Still, he found himself to be a sorry sight. And very wet. Despite his obsession with being prepared, the many, many items of terror within his violin case were not, unfortunately, an umbrella.
Thus he found himself idly standing next to a bus stop sign to his right and a lamp post on his left. His mind briefly flicked to the Teen Titans. Raven had been an interesting opponent. Her heritage had intrigued him to remain in Jump City for a few extra months. However, her lack of leadership skills and dependence on magic left him dissatisfied, leaving him to once again expand his boundaries to Bludhaven.
A very typical place.
The rain was very loud, causing instincts to put him on guard. When one of the five senses is hindered, necessary precautions must take place. Thus, he was interested to discover that someone had jumped from the roof of a nearby building and land directly on the lamppost above.
The flickering lamppost. Again, cliché, but what a picture it set.
He did not stiffen, nor did he react in anyway to inform the visitor that he was aware of his presence. He did, however, allow his shoulders to scrunch slightly in the appearance that he was cold, holding the violin case closer. Both in attempt to play the shivering civilian and put his right hand near to the retractable bow staff in his coat pocket.
Naturally, he was quite surprised when it stopped raining.
But only around him.
Slade looked up. There was a shadowy figure crouched on the lamppost holding an umbrella. Like a bird.
Slade Wilson raised an eyebrow. He had heard many rumors of a shadowy hero in Bludhaven, but had assumed he had left the city, due to many negative reports concerning his presence.
"Heroes hold umbrellas for pedestrians now?" He asked.
The figure shifted on the lamppost, but not enough for Slade Wilson to be exposed to the rain again.
"I'm not a hero." He said.
Slade Wilson smiled at this. "Then villains hold umbrellas for pedestrians?"
The figure shifted again.
"I'm not a villain."
"Are you certain? I was quite sure that only hero/villain categories dressed in spandex and sat on lampposts in the rain," Slade Wilson smirked. Thunder was flashing again, but the thunder was softer now. The brief flashes of light allowed him to see that the figure was indeed wearing spandex, all black except for a line of blue. Anymore, he could not make out.
"…I just like space."
"I see. I hate to impose on your space, but I'd appreciate it if you came down. I do not wish for my rain cover to be struck by lightning," Slade Wilson said. The figure was beginning to strike interest in his incredibly bored mind and he was beginning to think of ways to track him once he left, as pedestrian questioning (A/N: cough stalking) would be limited.
The figure, meanwhile, considered the musician's request and carefully slid down the lamppost while keeping the umbrella above the man's head. He found the task more tedious than thought. The pole was slippery and, as any spandex wearer knows, slippery and gripping don't mix. Nonetheless, he managed to ease himself under the light and next to the supposed musician, eyes lowered.
He couldn't help but blush slightly. He hadn't bothered to observe the man and was startled to find him handsome. His blushing increased from slightly to deeply when the man's eyes flickered up and down his wet suit.
"Do little birds often bestow shelter from the rain for random citizens?" Slade Wilson asked, a slight smirk tracing his lips when the young man before him shied from his gaze.
"…I just like violins and I'm not a little bird," he mumbled. He had a small scowl on his face, as the man was taller than him. His eyes traced the violin case. It was very fine material. He shifted his arm, blinking constantly from the rain.
Slade Wilson noticed, and took liberty of the umbrella. He slipped closer to the boy so that they both managed to stand under the umbrella. He was pleased to find the boy to be roughly the age nineteen to twenty-three. The drenched spandex clung to his body, muscular, but lithe. His hair was black and long, but not passed his shoulders. It clung to his chin, soaked and curling gently at the base of his neck. Slade took the time to enjoy the view of a shivering, submissive hero so close to him. Which reminded him.
"Are you sure you're not a hero? You look familiar," he said.
"Used to be. Quit the business."
"And why is that?" A small smile tugging his lips. When a hero turns bad, they love to announce it to the world through whatever means possible. This hero did not display any means of obsessive rebellion. However, his outfit was dark, more villain than hero. But the design, black with a blue eagle on his chest extending to his arms, was not familiar at all. Nor had he heard of any rebellious heroes as of late. A local, small town hero perhaps? Or maybe a quiet retirement. Either way, the boy had slipped under his information track. A worthy feat.
"People didn't want to be saved."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. People get mad when I save them. And I'm not cut out for the hero acting either. I'm not…a good person."
"Because?"
"Killed someone. Killed a couple people. Didn't like it, but I did. No hero would take a life."
"Why do people get mad?" Slade asked. He as intrigued to be sure. Rarely did people dislike rescue.
"They didn't want to be saved by me."
"Because you killed people?"
"Yeah, because I killed people." The young man was suddenly interested with a retractable bo staff in his pocket. Slade watched him twirl it quietly in his hand. Strange, it was a similar design to his.
There were lights from down the street. The boy next to him gently took his umbrella back as the vehicle rolled closer. At this point Slade Wilson had forgotten that he had planned to ride the bus. According his small earpiece, which had been receiving audio from a small bug at the orchestra hall, told him that the fright had calmed down. He considered remaining with his rain cover, but chose not. He reminded himself that the boy thought he was a civilian.
"Sometimes killing is justified," he said as the bus rolled in front of the pair.
"I think not."
As Slade Wilson stepped into the bus he paused.
"What's your name, little bird?"
". . .Nightwing."
Yeah… that's it.