The sun was just rising above the horizon as Dick Grayson landed on the fire escape outside his apartment window. He had only just arrived home from yet another night of patrolling the streets of Blüdhaven. Now inside his modern apartment, the sleek surfaces lit only by the sun peeking above the skyline beyond, he almost stumbled into the bathroom. Groaning in pain from the ache it brings to his muscles, Dick starts pulling off the top portion of his costume, he leans against the sink, has a long, hard stare into the mirror and focuses to slow his breathing.

Looking back at him were two soulless, empty white eyes, due to the lenses on his domino mask. Staring into those blank eyes for too long made him uncomfortable, they were almost inhuman looking. Momentarily, Dick closed his eyes so he could spray spirit gum remover around the edges of his mask, but once he peeled the mask off his face the image that was now staring back at him was even worse. The eyes staring back at him now, were incredibly bloodshot, baby blues. The dark bags underneath his eyes only served to highlight his tiredness even more. He could see dried blood on the side of his temple from an unseen cut that was hidden somewhere in his shaggy hair. There was more dried blood around the corners of his mouth, a swollen lip and a fairly recent cut on the corner of Dick's eyebrow. Emotionlessly he cleans his wounds, ignoring the stinging pain that cleaning fresh wounds brings, he can't count how many times he's watched his own blood swirling down the drain. He sticks on a quick bandage, wipes the blood off the countertop and the sweat from under his arms, then finally reached to the cupboard under the sink, took out a decanter and small glass, half filled it with some brandy and downed it all in one swig. The intense burning in his throat was a small sacrifice to make to temporarily dull the pain all over the rest of his body. A body that is perfectly sculpted like a Greek god, a body that would no doubt be on the cover of dozens of men's fitness magazines, if it wasn't covered with a network of scars, small and large, that traced a history of his violent life. Almost every square inch of trunk and limb seemed to contribute to the story. Dick is still coldly staring into the mirror. Only now does he see a glimpse that he is having a hard time with the superhero business. This ordeal was becoming routine. He looks down at the counter, notices he's leaving red hand prints on the white marble and washes his hands again. Dick refilled the empty glass, with water this time and took two painkillers, desperately trying to relieve the seemingly chronic pain.

Staggering into the Bedroom Dick uses the last of his strength to pull the curtains together blocking out the sun, now above the skyline, before falling onto his bed. He doesn't have time to remove the lower part of his costume, as his body can't stay awake any longer and he falls asleep, face down on the bed.

Nightwing was now fighting Red X on top of a sky scraper in Gotham, and he wasn't winning, in fact he was getting his ass kicked. He was on his back, gritting his teeth as he held his arms up desperately trying to protect his face and body from the punches raining down on him but soon enough his arms were in so much pain from being repeatedly pummeled he had to drop them and he now felt the powerful fists connecting with his face, cracking and splintering his perfect cheekbones with each hit. And the punches just kept coming, one after another, wild punches, no style to them, just pure rage, left, right, left, right. With so much strength behind them the person behind that mask had to be someone filled with intense hate. "I always knew I was better than you." Red X said, the voice changer hiding his real voice, but not the condescending tone. "I don't think he ever saw it though. You know, the boss." Said Red X said as he placed a hand around Nightwing's throat choking him. "He was always so fond of you. Dick."Red X said casually, as Dick's eyes widened at the revelation that Red X knew his true identity. Even with the mask you could tell Red X had a smug grin plastered on his face. "Oh yes, that's right Dick, I know who you are. I know all about you. You and Bruce of course." He said as the X shaped blade on his arm came hurtling down towards Dicks chest.

Dick suddenly jolted awake, a cold sweat running down the nape of his neck. He was breathing rapidly and trying to calm himself. He inadvertently let out a strange cry of fear before realising it was all a dream. Dick placed a hand to his forehead and wiped the sweat away. Finally catching his breath he looked towards the window and even though the curtains were closed he could tell the sun was shining brightly. Dick grabbed his phone and looked at the time, it read 16:38. Dick figured he probably got in at around 6ish this morning, but even though he had slept 10 and a half hours, after 4 days of no sleep he still felt incredibly tired. Regardless he forced himself out of bed.

He took a shower, first as hot as he could bear it, then freezing cold, letting the icy needles pierce his shoulders. The coldness certainly helped Dick become more alert and also had the added benefit of numbing the ache in his muscles slightly. After patting himself dry with the towel he exited the bathroom, purposefully avoiding looking at his body in the mirror as he wrapped the towel around his waist. He didn't want to see the scars; each one was just a painful reminder of why he should give up the superhero business. He wasn't bulletproof like Superman, or faster than a speeding bullet. Dick was only human and it was a miracle that he hadn't been killed already. Though Wonder Girl had almost choked him to death last week, which was quickly followed By Kid Flash ordering him to get out of Titans Tower after Red X had ambushed them, almost killed The Joker and severely injured Robin. He couldn't blame them. It was entirely his fault that the Red X suit even existed and revealing that it was his fault that Robin was in his current condition wasn't ever going to go down well. He didn't blame Wonder Girl for lashing out at him, nor did he hold any resentment towards Kid Flash for telling him to leave the Tower. If anything it was the best thing for everyone at that time, and he could tell from the tone in the 13 year olds voice that he was holding himself back from harming him. In fact Dick had been impressed with Kid Flash's sudden maturity that day. He no longer saw him as a goofy, reckless imitation of Wally, but as a Kid Flash in his own right, carving out his own legacy. Dick knew he had a lot of work ahead of him before he would be able to regain the Titans trust in him. If he ever could. The good news was that Robin had been patched up pretty well by Alfred, and whilst off active duty until completely healed, was in no longer in any serious danger. However Dick was still hit with a wave of guilt as he thought of Robin.

Dick was determined to track down Red X and find out who he really was behind that mask. It was clear that he had been trained and trained well. The moves he used were all too familiar to Dick. He recognised them as moves that Bruce had taught him. Moves that had to be practiced. His skills were on par with Dick's and maybe even Bruce too. And he was certainly more athletic than your average person. This didn't sit well with Dick. He had initially thought he was a member of the League of Assassins, but the way he fought Robin and Dick it was clear that there was some deep hatred for them, as if they had history. Not to mention the way he attacked The Joker, or more accurately tried to murder him. But for now Dick couldn't even hope to find him, it was still daylight and if anything was going to happen it would be at night and Dick hadn't even eaten yet.