His hands shook and his breath was visible in the cold night air. He pulled his collar up and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The city was dark and dirty.

Women in skimpy clothing with cigarettes hanging from their lips bent over to whisper seductively to men in dark cars. Men with guns tucked in their waistbands scoped out potential victims. Dirty and underfed children slipped their tiny hands into the unsuspecting pockets of unknowing victims.

He was a hero. But he was a hero that knew better. Sometimes he wished he hadn't grown up to see the filth and pain in the world that not even a hero could truly stop. He couldn't stop the hunger, and he couldn't stop the death. He couldn't save every victim and he couldn't save the world.

Dick Grayson fumbled with his keys and unlocked the door to his cheap apartment in downtown Bludhaven. Sometimes, Dick wished he was still just Robin and not Nightwing. He wished that he wasn't alone in the world, and he wished that he still had Batman by his side. He wished his team didn't hate him for lying to them, and he wished that his best friend wasn't dead.

More than anything, Dick Grayson wished that he could still be a child living in a world of illusion where every problem could be solved by a hero in a cape. But those days were over. Dick Grayson grew up, as everyone must, and his illusion was shattered.