Gotham, October 25, 2017, 1:14 AM EST
Someone needs to fucking die tonight or at least get the hell beat out of them, Jason thought as he puffed air from his nose, flaring his nostrils. He propped his chin in the palm of his right hand, rested his elbow on his thigh, and hung his legs over the side of a shipping container.
The temperature was already dropping in Gotham as the seasons slowly changed over. A slight drizzle had begun an hour or so ago, and it was enough to make him uncomfortably damp without actually making him feel wet. It was damn near annoying. He was cold, hungry, and not in the best of moods. He'd been sitting here for two hours already with no immediate end in sight.
He'd been following a continuous slew of shipment arrivals at the Gotham docks for several weeks. Guns, drugs, equipment, and various other goods destined for nothing but evil were intermittently arriving at the request of the different crime lords of Gotham. He sent his men to intercept previous deliveries, but tonight's was noteworthy. According to his informants, Deathstroke was receiving a scheduled shipment tonight, and Jason personally wanted to ruin the mercenary's business affairs.
To alleviate the tightness building in his muscles, he cracked his neck and stretched his legs out in front of him. A sea of shipping containers surrounded him as far as the eye could see. He was so freaking bored, which is why when a dark figure caught the corner of his eye, he couldn't stop the small smile that crept to the corner of his mouth. He stood up, groaning as his knees audibly protested the sudden movement, and made his way to follow the figure.
He landed softly on the warehouse roof and quietly padded toward the blue and black-clad man.
"Little Wing, how nice of you to join the festivities," Nightwing said without turning his head. Jason cringed at the nickname that only Dick used for him. Jason hated the endearing title when he was in a piss poor mood like he was now. He preferred their usual name-calling that stemmed from deep-seated pain and learned passive aggression from being a member of this fucked up family. "To what do we owe the honor of your presence tonight?"
"I'm just here for the honor of watching Deathstroke kick your ass. Well, that and to stop a shipment of weapons from getting into the Gotham underground. But mostly here to watch your ass get kicked," Red Hood responded, now standing next to Nightwing, who was sitting on the roof's ledge.
"How considerate of you. I hope you brought some snacks. It's probably going to be quite the show," Nightwing said, his lips settling in a straight line. The older man still didn't bother to look up at him, but instead, he stared blankly ahead. The only movement in Nightwing's body was the rising and falling of his chest.
Jason couldn't fight his confused expression, but the helmet thankfully hid it. The lack of a smile on the other man's face was concerning and off-putting. While he didn't know what exactly, Jason knew something was wrong. He usually had to beg Dick to stop talking or joking, but the typical behavior was absent tonight. He knew Deathstroke and Nightwing had a long-standing, unfriendly, prey and predator type relationship, but he didn't think it warranted the piss poor attitude.
Red Hood wanted to ask what his deal was, but Nightwing suddenly raised his hand to the communicator in his left ear.
"Got it. I'll move into position."
"Still taking orders from Daddy Bats? Why not just take the costume back from the kid if that's the case? Or you could bust out the short pants and pixie boots for old times' sake. That look was always intimidating," Red Hood teased.
Nightwing stood up and furrowed his brow. "I'm not taking orders from Batman."
Before he could respond, Nightwing flipped off the edge of the roof, shooting his grappling hook toward a nearby steel beam. The former acrobat flew through the air, landing and relaunching himself among the structural members of the dock's loading equipment. The movements weren't smooth, though. Just as he did in other aspects of his life, Dick usually glided by, but today, his actions looked choppy and uncontrolled.
Red Hood followed shortly after and landed beside Nightwing behind a shipping container. He was now hyper-aware of Nightwing's body language and behavior, but the man wasn't giving anything away at the moment.
"So what does the man want? Is he expecting the same shipment of guns I am, or is he more interested in murderous robots or perhaps certain ex-Titans?" Red Hood asked, putting inflection in his voice to try and get a reaction. Nightwing didn't respond but leaned around the corner, scanning the area. When Red Hood went to speak again, he was met with a hand up, signaling silence. He narrowed his eyes. Now, he was seriously suspicious. What escrima stick was shoved up Nightwing's ass tonight?
Nightwing pulled back from the corner and leaned against the shipping container's wall. At first, Red Hood thought the vigilante was standing, zoned out, but he suddenly realized someone was talking to Nightwing through his earpiece. He was intently listening to whatever the other person was saying. After a couple of moments, Nightwing lifted his hand to his left earpiece.
"Understood."
Nightwing leaned around the corner again and looked up towards the numerous structural beams above them.
Annoyed at the lack of communication, Red Hood asked, "So what's the plan? Who's all here from the crazy little family of ours? Please, tell me Black Bat is here. I need someone on my coolness level."
Nightwing sighed deeply, clearly aggravated at Red Hood's presence and accompanying banter.
"Batman and Robin are on the north end closer to the drop-off point at the warehouse. Red Robin is south near the docks to confirm the unloading process has started. We're in the middle. I am here to distract and cut off half of Deathstroke's team once the shipment has passed. Red Robin will meet me here after tailing the cargo from the ship. Black Bat and Batgirl are patrolling the rest of the city," Nightwing paused and looked at Red Hood, "I have no idea where you come in. Are you going to try and kill Deathstroke, or are you just here to destroy the cargo?"
"I already told you. I'm here to watch your ass get kicked. I'll deal with the cargo later."
Nightwing shook his head and took a deep breath. He almost looked disappointed Jason didn't offer to kill his old mercenary friend.
Again, someone began speaking in Nightwing's right ear.
"I'm in position. I'm just waiting for confirmation from Red Robin."
Nightwing dropped his hand to his side again as he closed the commlink. The older man looked at him briefly before turning his body away, intent on shutting Jason out. Red Hood was a trained Bat, though. The unusual behavior and whispered, "Ready," after Nightwing raised his hand to his left ear were evident to him.
What the? Did Nightwing have two communicators?
Before Red Hood could ask, an explosion came from the south further down the docks, causing the ground to shake.
"O, update. What happened?" Nightwing asked into his right earpiece, pausing as he listened to the report and nodded in acknowledgment.
"Seems we have a change of plans," Nightwing said, looking back at Red Hood before shooting a grappling hook towards the south and disappearing into the night.
Red Hood stood there for a moment and stared after the other man.
"No, please, don't worry about me. I'll figure out the new plan on my own," Jason mumbled to himself. He shot a hook into the night and followed Nightwing to the pier's entrance.
Just past the iron Pier Eleven sign, Red Robin fought several of Deathstroke's robotic henchmen. Nightwing landed near the pretender, pushing off with his hands and backflipping into a robot aiming at Red Robin's back.
"Thanks," Red Robin said, looking down at the robot who'd nearly taken his head off.
"No worries, I got your back, Red. Always," Nightwing responded, finally smiling.
"Gross," Red Hood said, pretending to gag as he joined the two other former Robins. Red Robin opened his mouth to respond, but his comeback was interrupted by the sound of clapping from the direction of the docked ship.
"Well, isn't this quite the sidekick reunion we've got here," Deathstroke said, continuing to clap as he walked down the gangway toward the dock. "Seems the whole flock is almost here."
"The only reunion you'll be attending tonight is between you and a prison cell," Red Robin spat back at the villain.
He couldn't see the mercenary's face, but Jason knew the mask hid a smile behind it. Deathstroke was toying with them like a cat with a ball of yarn. Dozens of robotic henchmen emerged from the shadows and surrounded the heroes. The three former Boy Wonders placed their backs together, readying for the impending fight. Red Hood prepared his guns, Nightwing removed his escrima sticks, energizing them as he got into position, and Red Robin held several batarangs in his knuckles with his bo-staff ready in his other hand.
Without words, the vigilantes launched toward the robots. Red Robin hurled the batarangs into the heads of three nearby enemies, sending them falling backward. Nightwing's escrima sticks made contact with two robots, electrocuting them as he swept his leg, knocking a third off its feet. Nightwing placed the two sticks side by side and shoved them through the robot's head on the ground. He immediately transitioned to a roundhouse kick, pushing back an approaching robot.
Red Hood shot several humanoid machines in the head, but the bullets were not effective enough to eliminate them. They began overtaking him, and one knocked a gun out of his hand, sending it flying to the ground. Annoyed, Red Hood kicked out at the robot closest to him and shot another in the face several times. When he went to pull the trigger again, a faint clicking sounded. His gun jammed, great. He tossed the weapon to the ground near the other useless gun and punched the robots with his fists.
Red Hood saw Deathstroke running towards the warehouse out of the corner of his eye, following a large container on a forklift driven by a robot. The mercenary jumped onto the back of the machinery and turned to watch the vigilantes fighting behind him.
Nightwing must have seen Deathstroke leave as well because the older man catapulted into an aerial front flip, crushing two robots' heads together in midair, and landed outside the circle of henchmen. Nightwing took off running after Deathstroke and the cargo.
Red Hood and Red Robin defeated the remaining robots, looked at one another, nodded, and took off towards the north. The forklift had entered a large open bay door on the side of a nearby warehouse. Red Hood and Red Robin slid to a halt inside the entryway. In the center of the space, Deathstroke stood before Nightwing, who had his escrima sticks at the ready.
"It's been a while, my boy. You don't seem like yourself. Where's the usual banter?" Deathstroke taunted. The mercenary began taking slow steps, circling Nightwing like prey. Red Hood rolled his eyes. Deathstroke was eating this up. It was apparent the man had a hard-on or something for Nightwing. Why else would he stalk the guy for so many years? Despite the long-standing complication of being adoptive brothers, he had to admit the reputation that surrounded Nightwing's ass was pretty warranted. Perhaps Slade was lashing out from not getting a piece of it himself.
Nightwing growled in response, which snapped Red Hood back into focus mode. The hero launched himself at Deathstroke, and escrima sticks clanked against steel as they made contact with a sword. Nightwing pushed off Deathstroke's weapon and connected his two sticks to form a bo staff. Then, the two begin engaging in close combat, dodging and deflecting each other's attacks.
Red Hood tensed as dozens of robots appeared from the corners of the room.
"For fuck's sake," he muttered under his breath.
As Red Hood and Red Robin began fighting the never-ending supply of robots, Batman and Robin dropped into the chaos, disarming several henchmen themselves. All the while, Nightwing continued to spar in the center of the room with Deathstroke.
"You won't get in my way, Nightwing," Deathstroke said, swinging the sword from his side, but Nightwing deflected it with his bo staff.
"You'll have to get through more than just me to get out of here, Slade," Nightwing replied, using his bo staff as a vertical pole, spinning around it to dodge another swing of the sword. Deathstroke quickly swung his weapon sideways when Nightwing landed, knocking the staff out of the vigilante's grasp. Nightwing briefly looked at the staff as it bounced out of reach but made no effort to retrieve it.
Red Robin witnessed this and ran toward the oldest Bat-son and Deathstroke. He launched himself at Deathstroke from behind, but the mercenary anticipated the attack, turning quickly to grab the young man around the neck in midair.
"Let him go!" Nightwing yelled, kicking Deathstroke hard in the side of the head, forcing him to drop Red Robin, who now lay gasping for air on the ground.
Deathstroke turned back toward Nightwing with his head still cocked to the side from the kick. He slowly cracked his neck with a fist under the chin and tilted his head forward.
"You're going to regret that," Deathstroke warned.
A red and yellow blur descended from the rafters, which caused the hair on Jason's neck to stand up. He'd been in plenty of dangerous situations, but he couldn't fight the sense of foreboding overtaking mind. Robin was trying to flank Deathstroke from the air, and, like Red Hood, Nightwing immediately saw the boy's mistake as the mercenary readied his weapon.
"Robin!" Nightwing yelled. The older man jumped toward Robin, and their bodies collided in midair. Robin landed in a heap on the ground several feet away, grunting as he rolled to a stop.
"No!"
Red Hood wasn't even aware he was the one screaming while the nightmare unfolded in front of him. After his screams died away, his mouth hung open while his eyes were wide. He should be moving and saving Nightwing, but his feet were firmly rooted to the ground.
The cross-guard of Deathstroke's sword pressed against the blue insignia on Nightwing's chest, which was slowly staining crimson, while the blade exited his back. Nightwing's head dipped down to stare at the weapon. From his own experience, Jason knew Dick probably didn't feel the intrusion at first. When adrenaline is pumping, the body will mask pain by releasing endorphins, allowing an individual to fight for survival after an inflicted wound. But he knew, oh, he knew when the pain hit, it would hurt.
Nightwing brought his gloved hands up to lightly grip the sword's hilt directly above Deathstroke's own hands. It almost seemed Nightwing would pull it back out himself, make a quip, and continue fighting, but Jason knew that was wishful thinking. When Nightwing lifted his head back up to meet Deathstroke's one eye, his breathing was feeble and faltering; the intake of air causing him pain. Deathstroke slowly removed the sword, sliding it through Nightwing's cupped hands, and let it hang at his side. Jason tried to ignore the blood pooling on the ground underneath the blade.
Nightwing took one standing pained breath before falling to his knees and then to his hands. He raised his hand to his chest and pulled it back to reveal the dark fabric of his glove stained with blood.
Sounds of crushing metal echoed in the open space as Batman violently disarmed the robots in the room that dared stand between him and his wounded son. Suddenly, Batman was crouched down at Nightwing's side with one hand hesitantly hovering above his son's back, as if he could hurt him more by touching him and the other on his arm.
"Nightwing, you're going to be okay," Batman said with his voice breaking. He gently helped Nightwing onto his side, placing the man's head in his lap as he examined the chest wound. Jason was no medical expert, but he knew there was nothing any of them could do for the gaping hole in the man's chest. Nightwing was mortally wounded.
Red Robin and Robin were at Nightwing's side within seconds as the initial shock dissipated. Deathstroke took a few steps backward, staring down at the dying vigilante before turning and running off in the direction of the open warehouse door. Jason reached for a gun but quickly remembered he'd lost them all amongst the fighting down at the dock. He took one last look at the mercenary with gritted teeth before running over to the other Bat-Family members.
"We have to get him back to the cave, Batman," Robin said, his voice small, childish, and scared. Robin placed his hand next to Batman's on Nightwing's struggling chest, which rose harsh and inconsistent with each breath. Red Robin intertwined his fingers with Nightwing's left hand and gripped the man's wrist with his other hand.
Batman reached down and removed the domino mask on Nightwing's face, revealing pain-filled, wide blue eyes.
"Dick," Batman said, his voice trailing off. Bruce ripped the cowl off and placed his hands on either side of Dick's face. Jason had to divert his eyes at the fear evident behind the constricted pupils. He'd been here before himself, and he didn't want to think about the emotions and thoughts potentially crowding Dick's brain right now.
"God, dammit, Dick, you can't die on us," Jason said, ripping his helmet off and throwing it to the side. He wanted to yell, but his voice came out quieter than he intended. He fell to his knees beside Red Robin. "You hear me? You, pain in the ass copycat. Dying is my thing." Dick tried to force a smile on his face when he looked at him, but he was unsuccessful. The corner of his lips barely moved as tears formed in the corner of his eyes.
"Bruce," Dick started, his eyes turning upwards towards his mentor. When he went to continue speaking, he coughed up blood instead. If the blood loss didn't kill him first, Dick would drown due to the fluid filling his lungs. The realization made Jason want to vomit. After a few seconds, Dick tried to speak again. "I'm s-oo-so sorry."
Bruce began shaking. "You have nothing to be sorry for, son. You did everything right. You were perfect."
"Clearly not," Dick joked back, giving a weak, bloody smile. The sight forced Jason to look away again, so he focused on the slight movement of Dick squeezing Tim's hand instead. Dick raised his other hand to Damian's tear-streaked face and wiped a few falling tears away with his thumb. Damian snatched Dick's hand as it began falling away, gripping it tightly with both of his own. Jason reached out and encompassed Tim's hand, which still held Dick's. He squeezed tightly, swallowing the lump in his throat as his vision became blurry. There was no reassurance for Jason that Dick felt any less alone right now despite all the physical contact.
"This is my fault," Robin whispered. Dick weakly shook his head, trying to comfort the boy.
"Damian," Dick said between forced breaths, "no."
"Richard, I forbid you from dying," Damian said, his voice shaky but stern.
Dick smiled, but it quickly faded with the last fall of his chest. As Dick's body relaxed, his fingers lost their grip on his brothers' hands, and his pupils dilated, hiding some of the lifeless but still stunning blue irises. The juxtaposition between Dick's dead, still body and Bruce's shaking body was astounding. Bruce sat breathing slowly and ragged with his fisted hands on either side of Dick's head, and eyes turned down.
Tim covered his mouth with his hand, turning away as he began to sob. Jason let Dick's limp hand fall away to pull the replacement tightly into his arms. Tim started beating Jason's chest with his fist, but Jason could barely feel it due to the numbness that overtook him.
"He isn't supposed to die. Not Nightwing. Not Dick," Tim cried into Jason's shoulder.
Damian sat paralyzed. He still held Dick's hand in his own shaking hands and stared at the older man's face as if willing him to come back to life.
Jason held tight to Tim but briefly caught Bruce's eyes. He knew the look on his mentor's face all too well. He'd seen the same look staring back at him in the mirror many times. If given a chance, Batman was going to kill Deathstroke.
A/N: I have been working on this multiple-chapter, complicated, slow burn of a story between finishing my other works. This chapter occurs after Bruce's return but before Damian's death and Forever Evil. In the context of this story, Dick's death at the hands of Lex Luthor, Spyral, and Agent 37 never happened. The story will jump ahead two years in the next chapter, and the Forever Evil storyline will have occurred, but without Dick's participation, of course.