Sequel to "Popularity"

I don't own Dick Grayson AKA, Nightwing, Robin, Red X, Renegade, Batman, The Target, -you know what forget it, there's too many to name...


Two weeks after his 4:00am awakening, Dick Grayson fell onto the beat up couch in the small living room of his apartment taking a deep breath of relaxation. Finally, after helping all the teams, he was home and only had a small, burning laceration from his right shoulder to his left hip. Those aliens had some pretty dang good aim with those laser swords.

Star Wars affiliation much?

He would have brooded more if he hadn't heard his air conditioner kick on. Strange, it wasn't even cold. That's when he convinced himself to sit up strait. Alfred would've reprimanded him for slouching. Raising his head up and clenching his fists, Dick finally became aware of the envelope he was holding. He hadn't bothered to read any mail for the past few weeks considering that in at least three of those weeks, however many there were in total, he had been somewhere else either in the city, in the country, on the planet, or somewhere in the universe. The acrobat didn't bother to look at this envelope either, but he had convinced himself to get to his feet and lay it with the others on the table in his bedroom.

Of course, that had meant exhausting walking into said bedroom, all the way from the main room!

Boy, was he bushed. The worn out hero easily collapsed onto his bed.

That's when the cell phone in his pocket rang.

He bit back curses and heaved the greatest sigh/growl in history and took out his cell phone, not even bothering to see who was calling.

"Talk."

The voice on the other end hummed for a few seconds before speaking, "Hey Dick, worn out?"

Blue eyes opened in a bit of a surprise, though they were clearly still weary as the hero managed to sit up, "Hey Tim. What's up? Please tell me it doesn't involve a planetary war, numerous exploding skyscrapers, food coming to life or a mad thug hyped up on steroids."

"I prefer the term demon, or leech."

Dick rolled his eyes and closed them again, hiding the blue hue, "This is about Damian, right?"

"I got a letter from him."

Dick let a small smile slip onto his face, maybe they were going to start getting along, "Really? What'd he say?"

"Dear Drake, You need not return home. Here is a drawing of you being dead. Yours, Damian. There's an actual picture of me being dead on here!"

Dick sighed and rubbed at his tired and still closed eyes. He didn't know what was worse, Tim calling and ranting about Damian or Huntress calling and bad mouthing her latest date. Since when was he a counselor for the superhero community? He didn't remember signing up for this.

He went to speak when Tim cut off the sentence with his own question, "Did you get anything similar?"

Dick's eyes strayed over to the mail he had been setting down on the far table. There were still a few pieces of his alarm clock and landline phone nearby on the floor. He didn't want to get up, but he did. Only long enough to retrieve the stack of envelopes though, then he was back on his bed.

"Let's see, water bill, gas bill, catalog, survey, another catalog, coupon book-hey! I could use that."

"Dick!"

"Okay, sorry. Cable bill, cell phone bill-whoa!"

"What?"

"You only got one letter right?"

"Yeah."

"I just counted half a dozen."

"Great, you've gotten six death threats, congratulations."

"Tim, you're over exaggerating."

"Am not!"

Dick rolled his eyes before glancing outside. It was late.

"Look, I'll call you tomorrow Tim. I've got to be in at O'eight hundred hours if I want to avoid getting smacked upside the head by my partner."

"Amy's going to kill you one of these days."

"Probably."

"Just don't forget the letters!"

Unbeknowest to the hero, he should've taken those words to heart ASAP.


Across town, a small figure shivered under a gray, holey jacket, the hood hiding his face from the night's view. The form pressed it's back against the brick wall of a nearby building, which was an abandoned grocery store with a broken, yet barred window. Small feet kicked away pebbles as the figure slunk down the street. Most people ignored him. Good. They would all live to see tomorrow.

The form kept moving, bobbing along like a young bird with no idea what direction it should take.

It wasn't long until the form stopped short and straitened the stooped over back he had. Neon lights of plush violet and ice blue danced across his partially revealed face from a nearby sign for some kind of restaurant.

His eyes weren't on the restaurant though.

The blue eyes were glancing across the street.

A sad scowl marred his face like a battle scar and he began his walk across the street, not caring when a rider-less motorcycle nearly ran him over. He didn't bother to even remotely question it in the back of his mind. The walk took a long three minutes because of the slow advance of the small feet, but he made it.

Pressing his face against a glass window at the front of the building he now stood in front of and relishing how the coolness brought the intensity of the heat beneath his skin's surface down, he breathed deeply. It was only for a few minutes though.

Silver gleamed in the night from a fair distanced street light and in no time, he had slipped through the transparent pane, closing and locking it behind him. Blue eyes glanced outside the opaque glass and seeing no one on the streets, the hood was pulled back.

The aqua eyes closed with a released sigh of silent defeat and the form melted into the darkness inside the building to find somewhere to stay still for a few hours.

Until then-

He opened a door and let the thicker darkness of the next room swallow him completely, along with the distant smell of coffee and doughnuts.

Outside, bells rang out in the air.

The clock struck 4:00am.


Yeah, this is actually the next part of my "Popularity" one-shot, that was actually supposed to be a full story. So, I don't know, if this turned out good, I might find some time after finals this upcoming week to type out another chapter.

Although, I'm really iffy about a full story right now, given I've only written a single one-shot, so I'm still not very convinced I'm good at writing in this fandom, but I'll guess I'll see.

You review, I write more.

~Moonsetta