Author's Note: This is just a quick scene based on competition I entered on Facebook. The challenge was to provide detail of how you would integrate unused DC characters into the current DC film universe. So that's how I got inspiration for this little piece. This is how I imagine Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon fitting in to the Batman vs Superman movie.
"There are at least five confirmed dead and two confirmed in serious condition after the incident at the docks which we have just established involved The Batman. All the men involved in the incident so far have criminal backgrounds, but it is yet unclear whether they were in the middle of illegal activities when the attack from The Batman occurred. We now go to official vigilante correspondent, Rick Darby, who is live at the scene."
The picture on the small television that was bolted up in the corner of the diner shifted from the female anchor sitting in a well-lit studio, to a man in his late twenties, holding an umbrella and standing amongst the wreckage of the Gotham docks.
The sole customer in the diner was leaning back in his booth, eyes glued to the screen as he sipped at a mug of coffee. This wasn't a live broadcast, the news didn't run at two in the morning. This was a repeat from the eleven o'clock news, a broadcasting he had also watched. But he couldn't help but be mesmerized by the story.
"There are at least five confirmed dead and two confirmed in serious condition…"
Dick Grayson never would have thought that Bruce could fall so far.
"Bruce, what the hell are you doing?" Dick murmured under his breath as he brought the steaming mug to his lips.
He was so entranced by the story, he was only vaguely aware of the tinkering bells that announced another customer was entering the diner. He should have been more concerned. Bludhaven wasn't exactly a town that you'd want to let your guard down in anyway, but this diner was situated on one of the sketchier streets. However, out of his work uniform, he knew that he was much less likely to be targeted by random thugs. It any case, it wasn't as if he couldn't hold his own if someone tried to start something with him.
His back was to the door – something Bruce would have criticized him for – but his senses sharpened as he was aware of the new arrival moving toward his end of the empty diner. As a shadow crossed into his peripheral vision, his grip tightened on his mug, ready to use the hot liquid to distract the potential attacker as he flipped out of the confining booth in order to better assess the situation.
"Safety on, Dick," came a distinctly feminine voice. "It's just me."
Even though he would recognize that voice anywhere, it took him a moment to really comprehend the sight of the redheaded girl sliding into the booth across from him.
"Barbara?" he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"It's good to see you too," Barbara said as she shrugged out of her black rain jacket. She turned her attention to the waitress who just approached. "I'll just take a black coffee."
"Sure," the waitress murmured, sounding less than impressed by the small order as she walked away.
"How did you even know I was here?" Dick said, regretting the question as soon as it left his mouth.
Barbara gave him a look that practically screamed 'Are you kidding me?' "Um, well, I did train for a bit with the World's Greatest Detective. Have you really forgotten so much already with this time away?"
"Sorry, shouldn't have asked," Dick said, skillfully skirting around the actual question.
The waitress returned with another mug and the pot of freshly brewed coffee, silently pouring Barbara's drink, topping off Dick's, and then retreating back behind the counter.
"So, how have you been?" Barbara asked, taking a sip of the coffee and then making a face. Dick had to stifle a smile. This diner had terrible coffee. But, then again, it wasn't the coffee he came here for.
"I'm getting by," Dick said vaguely with a shrug.
"I hear you're a cop now," Barbara commented.
Dick stiffened, ready to be defensive. "Needed something to help pay the bills. Seemed like a natural choice."
Barbara nodded. "It's just… not what I pictured you would do with your life."
"Well, not all of us can be billionaire executives," he said dryly. "Some of us have to live in the real world."
"Point taken," Barbara said, though she didn't look completely convinced. "You know, if you had told me this was what you wanted to do, I could have put in a good word with my dad. He could have gotten you a better job than a lowly beat cop."
Dick shook his head. "I needed to do this on my own. And… after everything that happened… I needed some distance from Gotham."
In truth, before a few years ago, Dick had never put much thought into what he wanted to be when he grew up. Bruce was a being that lived purely in the present, a trait that he – intentionally or not – had passed on to his ward. It was hard to consider things like college and a career when your whole life revolved around battling the next bad guy. Dick had tried going to college, but had dropped out after two years. Despite his natural intelligence, it was difficult to keep up with classes when he was donning his Nightwing façade nightly. No matter how many tests he aced without even studying, his poor attendance and lack of completed homework were his downfall in the academic world. And, after a final falling out with Bruce caused Dick walk away from the hero business, becoming a police officer had seemed like a natural compromise between the two warring sides of his life.
"Have you talked to him recently?" Barbara asked, abruptly changing the subject as her gaze wandered to glance at the television before focusing back on him.
Dick didn't need her to elaborate.
"There's no way you're here about that," he said with a tired sigh, his eyes darting to the television as well, casually sweeping the rest of the diner before looking back at Barbara, insuring that they were still mostly alone. He hadn't heard much from anyone since he retired from being Nightwing, and he couldn't help but feel disappointed that Barbara had finally tracked him down only to bring up a subject he desperately didn't want to discuss.
"I'll take that as a no," Barbara said, looking at him with exasperation.
"Take that as a hell no," Dick corrected dryly. "I try to check in with Alfred every few weeks. But I haven't heard from Bruce since…" he shrugged, frowning, "you know."
Barbara nodded, though she had a faraway look in her eye, as if she were thinking about something else entirely. "I thought maybe with everything that's been happening, you might have at least tried to reach out to him."
Dick rolled his eyes. "You got that way backwards, Babs. With all this drama, I'm staying even farther away. I don't want to get suckered into another one of his personal crusades and end up getting fried by some alien. You know that guy shoots lasers out of his eyes, don't you?" Dick gave a dry chuckle. "If Bruce wants to take on that, that's his business. I am staying so far out of it." Suddenly, he shot her a suspicious look. "And I'm hoping you're doing the same, Barbara."
Barbara held up her hands in defense. "Trust me, I don't want to get in the middle of whatever pissing contest they've got going on over there either."
"Good," Dick said, feeling relieved.
"But you know that's not the real problem, right?" Barbara said, eyeing him for a reaction.
"There are at least five confirmed dead and two confirmed in serious condition…"
Dick sighed. Despite the fact that his last words to Bruce had been obscenities yelled in the middle of the small cemetery in the back of Wayne Manor, he couldn't deny that it was painful to see that his former mentor had fallen so far from the symbol of hope and justice that he used to be. Batman was now feared in Gotham. And not just by criminals.
"Well, if you've come here to ask me to explain what in the hell he's thinking, I'm sorry but you're out of luck, Babs," Dick said. "I spent half my childhood trying to figure him out and I'm no closer now than I was when I was eight years old."
"That's not why I came here," Barbara said carefully, not quite meeting his gaze.
"Then, why did you come here?" Dick asked, feeling pretty sure that he didn't want to know the answer.
"To ask you to come back," Barbara finally said bluntly. "To ask you to come home, Dick."
"No way," Dick said without hesitation. "I left that life behind me. I've got my own life to live now."
Barbara rolled her eyes. "Dick, you are miserable here. You've got to be bored out of your mind as a lowly beat cop. You're wasting your potential busting random muggers and thugs. You could do so much more good if you came back to Gotham."
"Not interested," Dick said firmly, though he couldn't deny that she made good points. After taking down some of the most terrifying villains in the world, going up against petty criminals on the streets of Bludhaven didn't exactly bring about the adrenaline rush he was used to.
"It's more than just that," Barbara went on. "Dick, he needs you."
Dick snorted at that. "He doesn't need me. He made it very clear at Jason's funeral that he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore."
Dick's voice cracked when he said Jason's name. The death of the second Robin, the one who had taken his place, was still almost too painful to talk about. Jason had been like a younger brother to Dick, sometimes getting on his nerves, but still there was an inherent bond between them.
Barbara sighed, and Dick noticed her fingers shifting to gently rub her temple. She was getting a headache.
"You really should know him better than that," she said. She suddenly sounded tired. "He's scared, Dick. Jason's death hit him hard and now he's pushing everyone away because he's afraid to feel that pain again. That's how he copes. You of all people should know that."
"Yeah, well Jason's death hit us all hard," Dick snapped. He tightened his grip on the mug to the point where he could practically hear the ceramic groaning with the effort of not shattering in his hands. "He's not the only one hurting. Not that he could ever see that. That would involve thinking of someone other than himself for once in his life."
"So that's it?" Barbara asked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in the booth. "After all you two have been through, you're just never going to see him again? After he raised you—"
"Mary and John Grayson raised me," Dick cut her off angrily. "They had eight years to raise me, which amounts to more than I can attribute to Bruce. And after their death, Alfred raised me. Bruce was my drill sergeant. Something most eight year olds get by just fine without."
Barbara looked truly pained at this revelation.
"I… I'm sorry," she stuttered, clearly thrown off balance by this new direction the conversation had taken. "I didn't mean to minimize your parents' influence on you." She sighed as she dropped her arms and leaned forward. "It's just…" she glanced at the television for a moment before focusing on him again, lowering her voice. "He's going to get himself killed. You know that, Dick. I know you do. I mean, going after the Man of Freaking Steel? You really think he's going to survive that? And even if by some miracle he does, you think he'll stop there? He's just going to keep on going after tougher and tougher opponents until he finally becomes the martyr he's always wanted to be deep down." She paused, a look of pleading in her eyes. "Is that really what you want?"
Throughout her speech, Dick felt the anger draining out of him, leaving an empty hole in his chest.
"Why does it have to be me?" Dick grumbled as his shoulders sagged in on the weight of the sudden emptiness within him.
Barbara gave him a sympathetic smile. "Because, no matter what you think, you are the one person that he will listen to. You balance him out, Dick. You always have. You've always been the light to balance out his darkness. You may not be able to see it, but it was you that saved him from going down this path a lot sooner."
"You would think a grown ass man like him wouldn't need saving at this point," Dick harped.
"We all need saving sometimes."
At that, Dick couldn't help but smile at the beautiful redhead who sat across from him in a rundown diner on the bad side of town.
"I'll tell you what," Dick finally said. "After all this blows over," he waved his hand vaguely toward the television, even though they were running a different story at this point, "I'll take a trip to Gotham. I'll try and talk to him. But I make no promises. You know as well as I do how stubborn Bruce is."
Barbara nodded. "I think that's fair," she agreed as she stood up and started pulling her coat back on. As she did, she glanced toward the TV, that distant look in her eyes once again. "I just hope it won't be too late."
"Don't worry," Dick tried to assure her. "Alfred will keep him from doing anything too stupid." I hope, he added silently. Barbara turned and headed for the door. "Hey Babs." She paused and glanced over her shoulder at him. "It's good to see you."
"You too, Dick," she said with a sincere smile. "Look me up when you're in Gotham."
And with that, she strode out of the diner, the ting-a-ling of the bell announcing her exit just as Dick realized, with a wry smile, she had left him with the bill for her coffee.