The two left the fairgrounds after leaving brief instructions for handling of the prisoners and thanks to the police officers, in addition to a growled warning to leave the motorcycles alone.

Starfire lifted into the air, scooping Nightwing up under his armpits and zooming toward the casino at his instructions. Flying would be faster and give them the benefit of a slightly more covert operation.

Nightwing could feel the tension in her arms, and knew it had nothing to do with carrying him through the air.

"Star, what's the matter?" He asked in resignation, comm unit voiding the need to yell over the wind.

"You mean besides being worried sick for Damian?" Her voice was strained from emotion and they dipped a couple of inches as her flight was momentarily compromised. She swallowed hard and rose back up.

"Star I am mortified and scared beyond belief. I'm sick about this whole thing too, believe me. Nothing is turning out how it was supposed to." Nightwing mourned softly. "But we know what we have to do right now. We have to go rescue Damian. That's what our full focus needs to be on. We can't let anything- anything- get in the way of that. Which means you and I need to be a fully functioning team."

"And you are questioning my ability to act as such?" She sounded angry now, like when she burst into the roof of the tent in all her blazing, furious glory.

"Star, I can tell you're mad. I just don't have the time or the brain power to figure out what you're mad about right now. And I think it's in Damian's best interest to sort it out and get our minds straight before we go in and risk making a mistake that we'll both regret forever."

Starfire was silent for a long time as they soared above the rooftops of Bludhaven's downtown. At night, when the breeze blew the ocean mist in toward the city and the sun wasn't there to reveal all the cracked, rundown shop fronts, Bludhaven was gorgeous. All shimmering lights, festive music and the hope of a good sunrise.

"You didn't ask for back up." Came her near silent plea. It was stricken with a grief that made a lump form in his throat.

"I… I don't understand." Nightwing replied honestly, trying desperately to understand what had her so upset it was affecting her ability to fly.

"You thought I was in danger. I understand that, I do. You were worried for my safety and anxious to come help me. I appreciate that. But you went into a situation which was clearly dangerous with only a child for backup. He is well trained, I know, that is not the point." She bent her elbows, lifting him closer to her as they continued to sail through the night sky. "Not only did you not seek backup, but you denied taking it when it was offered to you. Why would you do that?" She sounded desperate now.

The lights of the casino could be seen distantly from the air now, but she maintained her altitude as they approached, a tactical maneuver meant to avoid detection by camera or watchful guard.

"You wanted me to call on backup." Nightwing stated, seeking her approval.

"I want you to consider your own safety for once!" Her accusation sounded harsh in the stillness of the air. They were hovering high above the casino now. Nightwing felt his face blanch and was almost thankful that she was holding him from behind, preventing her from seeing his ashen features. She too was relieved to be able to have this conversation without being face to face. She was sure one look at his mournful eyes would have broken her resolve. This needed to be said. Had been for a while. There was just never a good time.

"You have spent your life risking your life for the benefit of others. It is a part of you. A part that I love. You consider the safety of others before your own safety. Always. Could you not at least take some self preserving measures while doing so, for the sake of those that love you? I do not know if I can be married to someone who is so reckless he would deny backup, just so his bravado would be spared. How can I let myself love someone who is so determined to do things in a way that is going to get him killed?"

The last sentence was like a knife to the gut, which he unfortunately new from experience. He thought they had addressed all of her concerns about his safety after his fight with Talia, but apparently he had been mistaken. If Dick had been standing on solid ground, he would probably have staggered back. He wanted to scream at her for being wrong, for accusing him of something that wasn't true but when he tried, no words sprung from his lips. There was nothing he could say to counter her concerns. Because they were valid. She was right.

"Set us down somewhere, Star." It was the last thing he wanted to do, because time was really of the essence here, but there was no way he was running into a potentially deadly mousetrap without clearing the air first. They alighted onto the roof of an adjacent building, behind a protruding facade wall, him first-since he was still dangling from her arms- followed closely by her as she withdrew her hands from him. Nightwing carefully pulled her hands back toward him, facing her now. He held both of her small, strong hands in one of his, resting them against his chest. His other hand reached out to touch her cheek.

"You're right. I have more to think about now, more people who depend on me, just as much as I depend on them. I'm not quite used to it yet. I haven't had people that depend on me in a long time. But when we get Damian out of here, the three of us will sit down and come up with some rules, okay? And until then, I'm not going anywhere without backup. Deal?" He dragged his thumb gently across her cheek bone.

"Deal." She leaned into his hand briefly.

"Okay. Do you count as my backup or do I need to call someone?" He ventured lightly.

She scrunched her nose laughingly. "I am worth at least two backups."

Nightwing crushed her in a very short but very meaningful hug before pulling away to examine the casino. "Roger that. Then let's get what we came for then, huh? Oracle." Nightwing hailed through the comm link.

She answered immediately, ready, as always, to help. "I'm here, Nightwing. I gained access to the cameras a few minutes ago and have been monitoring since. From what I can tell, there are no dollotrons. Entrances are left unguarded. Simon entered carrying Flamebird- who was fully conscious and cursing like a sailor but tied up very efficiently." Relief instantly washed over Nightwing who fought to hold back a relieved half sob. Oracle forged on, "Not sure even he will be able to break out of those bonds. They entered the very back ballroom which currently houses an Egyptian exhibit."

"What does that look like?" Nightwing asked, wanting as much information as possible. Starfire was right about being smarter about how he did things. And he was going to start right now.

"No cameras, so I don't have eyes. And from the look of these building plans, only one entrance, which leads from the main casino floor. Air ducts aren't big enough to enter through, even for a skinny girl like Star. Hey, by the way." Oracle greeted, trying to be polite, though her focus was probably on a dozen different screens and layouts at once.

"Hello, Oracle. Does the ballroom have any windows? A fire exit?"

"Good thoughts, but no on the windows. And according to these pictures of the exhibit, they temporarily blocked the fire escape door with some big display item- wonder how they did that?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Bludhaven was known for its widespread corruption of public officials. Bribing one's local city council member or inspector was pretty much Bludhaven's equivalent of tipping the waiter at a restaurant.

"So he's bottlenecking us in." Both the vigilante and the cop in Dick hated that. It went against every procedure, every rule, every piece of good sense and sound strategic tactics that Dick knew.

"..." Silence on the other end of the line. He could hear Oracle clicking away furiously, trying to give him an answer other than the unspoken one hanging in the air.

"Great. Alright, we'll be in communication." Nightwing tried to sound optimistic but even to his ears it came out sounding flat.

"Be careful, you two." Oracle warned over the radio. Then, as if to leave them on a more optimistic note, she added, "When you guys get out of there, I'm coming over and we're going to have a serious conversation about why I had to find out through Jason that you two are getting married. Morons."

Starfire airlifted the two of them to the front entrance. A more covert entrance would be unnecessary, seeing that they'd only have one choice of entrance once inside. A sign on the front door said that the casino was temporarily closed for renovations. Nightwing quickly picked the lock, pulling the door open for Starfire with an extravagant flourish of his hand. "After you."

Starfire stepped through, keeping her head on a swivel. Her eyes carefully scanned the rows of unlit slots machines, craps and pool tables, roulette wheels and the long, stainless steel bar.

Nothing moved. There were no signs of danger, nothing to cause alarm. Tables and chairs were stacked in corners, sections of carpet had been ripped up. Gambling machines were pulled away from half painted walls and buckets of paint and tools littered the floor.

With Oracle acting as their audio tour guide, they made their way through the extravagant casino. They passed a concierge desk, indoor water park, a full service day spa and a small theater.

"Alright. You're there." Oracle informed as the two stood before a massive set of oak doors. They were firmly shut, dashing Nightwing's small hope of sneaking a peek inside without detection.

"Alright, we're going radio silent. We'll hail you in a few."

"I'll anxiously await your call." Oracle promised sincerely.

Nightwing placed a hand on the knob of the right door. He nodded at Star who instantly hovered a few inches off the floor, hands aglow with sizzling green heat. Nightwing silently counted down from three on his fingers, flinging the door open at the culmination of his countdown. Starfire entered the room swiftly, swerving out of the door's frame as she had been trained to do, many years ago. Police officers often called door frames and hallways "funnels of death" for a reason- there was nowhere to duck or dive if someone started shooting at you.

Both cleared the door frame, ducking to opposite sides. Display cases and informational charts filled the room. Replica columns stood on either side of the door they had just entered through, covered in hieroglyphs.

Nightwing had eyes for none of this, however. His gaze was locked solely on the two figures at the other end of the room, about forty feet away. At the feet of a fifteen foot replica of the jackel-headed god Anubis, were Dr. Simon Hurt and Flamebird. Only, Flamebird wasn't standing or even sitting. He was tied down to some sort of stone bench. Nightwing felt his stomach drop as he recognized what it was: a sarcophagus. Simon stood in front, hands clasped in front of himself as if he were perfectly comfortable.

Simon wore a two piece black suit, a white collared shirt and a black neck tie. He would have looked entirely ordinary if it weren't for the blue knee length cape that was draped over his shoulders, tied at the neck and the large black mask which covered his face from the nose up. It dipped just above his nose before rising into two points at either end of his head, near his temples. It curled wickedly, just as his lips did.

"Nightwing, and your little lovebird, Starfire. It was about time we met, wasn't it? I suppose you both think you've been through quite a scare today? Well, as they say, everything is relative." White teeth flashed sinisterly at the conclusion of his threat. "Richard, Damian and I are old friends, as I'm sure you know, Kory," he smiled cruelly at her sharp intake of breath. "But I suppose I should properly introduce myself. I'm Dr. Simon Hurt, a psychologist blacklisted by my former colleagues. You see, I studied the personal tragedies of the unfortunate. Of course, none fall more squarely into this category than our heroes; from the mythology of Ancient Greece to the modern guardians of our world today." He gestured at the three heroes, as if making his point.

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that someone so hell bent on vigilante justice has a tragic backstory to drive their crusade. Of course I studied the Batman, dug into his psyche and his past. The poor little circus brat, orphaned at a young age, audience to the murder of his own parents, helpless to stop it. Well, I discovered this, of course, when Nightwing was still galavanting around in dear adopted Daddy's clothes, hmm?"

"Enough!" Nightwing hollered, leaping forward. He skidded to a halt, however at the sight of Simon winding back his arm, large knife in hand, blade angled toward the incapacitated Flamebird.

"Tut, tut. Didn't they teach you any manners in that big old Mansion? Let me finish." He ground out through gritted teeth, composure instantly gone in a fit of mania. Nightwing straightened, fists clenched hard enough to whiten his knuckles, beneath his gloves. Starfire made to move forward, level with Nightwing but Simon wouldn't have it. "You too, lovebird. Stay where you are if you like the little bird the way he is." Starfire grounded herself, hands up in a display of submission.

"Well, the last time the three of us met, Richard insisted that he wasn't driven by tragedy, that I was wrong. That his Batman-Bruce Wayne- had taken him in, saved him from that fate, saved him from the anger and bitterness. Yes, according to Richard's account, he himself was fueled by hope, optimism." He snickered, eyeing Starfire as if to say 'bless his heart, the poor, clueless thing.' "Of course, it was up to me to show him he was wrong. All I had to do was cook up the perfect tragedy. And the rest- as they say- is history." Hurt drove the blade into Flamebird's stomach at the same time a small explosion rocked the room from behind Nightwing.

Nightwing was frozen in panic, head whipping to and fro as he tried to asses the damage to both Damian and Starfire. The columns which used to line the door where Starfire had stood now lay in a steaming pile of rock and plaster. Across the room, Damian lay unmoving on the sarcophagus, but Dick could see ruby red liquid pooling already. Everything was wrong. This couldn't be happening.

Nightwing couldn't make the choice, couldn't choose who to save and who to let die. He couldn't; it would haunt him for the rest of his life. His breath came in fast, heavy pants, his hands were trembling harder than he thought possible. He couldn't choose because, either way, he'd be wrong. If he chose to run to Damian's aid, it could mean life without Starfire. He could hardly remember a time when she hadn't been his best friend, his constant companion- whether he had admitted it or not. But if he chose to rescue Starfire, it could mean death for his youngest brother. A brother that, in their short few years together had become more like a son, had been one of his greatest sources of pride and joy. He couldn't choose.

The tailspin was over but now the free fall had ended too. Dick had crash landed onto the asphalt without anything to break his fall. The clarity was gone, replaced by harsh reality. On the cold ground, he was way out of his element.

Blessedly, he wasn't forced to make a choice. The pile of rubble behind him began to shift and an orange hand busted through. Strong arms heaved their way through rock until a face appeared beneath the dust and the stone. Her eyes focused behind him before she locked eyes with him and said the only thing he needed to hear. "Go."

Nightwing raced across the room, feet pounding the ground, elbows driving him onward. He had no thoughts except for taking out Simon and getting to Damian. Simon tracked Nightwing's movements with his eyes, blade held at the ready. Nightwing threw a barrage of batarangs which Simon deflected with the long blade of his knife. Nightwing launched an escrima, but it too was blocked. Hand to hand it was. Nightwing would enjoy this fight.

Nightwing aimed a kick at Hurt's rib cage which he narrowly avoided, diving to the side. Nightwing pressed forward quickly, landing a punch to Simon's throat. Simon gurgled and spat, but remained standing. When Nightwing pulled back his fist once again, ready to strike at Simon's face, Hurt made his move. He slashed the blade shallowly across Nightwing's forehead but it was enough. Though the wound couldn't have been more than a millimeter deep, it burned and stung as if someone were pouring boiling hydrogen peroxide into it. His legs instantly became weak, knees collapsing out from under him. His vision grew spotty.

For the hundredth time today, something was not right. This was no ordinary knife wound, and that was no ordinary knife. Nightwing fought to stay conscious, fought to remember why he had to stay conscious. He stared at the body of Damian, now only a few feet away from him, strapped to a cold stone table. Thick blood dripped down the side of the sarcophagus.

Damian. He had to stay conscious for Damian. The boy depended on him. Nightwing tried to fight the effects but his arms felt like lead. The wouldn't do more than twitch, no matter how hard he tried. He attempted to angle his head to get a better view of Flamebird at least, but even that proved to be an impossible task. Simon stalked into view, crouching so as to be eye level with the incapacitated hero. "You said, one time, that you had lived through the worst; that you had survived hell. Well, let's see you do it again." He dug his thumb into the weeping wound on Nightwing's forehead, sending a wave of searing agony through his head, white and red lights flashed against the backdrop of his eyelids before going pitch black.


A/N: And the other shoe has dropped...