Note: Sooooooooo...somehow I'm back. Ideas just started coming to me and I couldn't not write them down. My life is kind of crappy right now, so I figured why not do something I liked doing last year. It's better than sitting around in a self-pity party. So, why not? Life has a funny way of straightening itself out eventually, and someday it will for everyone who is struggling. Just keep on keeping on, right? :) I never thought I would have a next story, especially with the way my life has been going, but...here we are, I guess.
If you actually start reading the story after this random author's note, I hope you enjoy it. If you don't, I hope you find a different story you do like. There are a lot of amazing authors on this site. So...yeah, here you go. Italics are usually used for thoughts to oneself. Thanks for reading!
Nightwing stood on the roof of Wayne Enterprises, silently watching the building across the street. He was waiting for any sign of movement, listening for the whisper of a disturbed curtain, his senses feeding off the feeling of impending danger that Batman had developed in him.
Waiting was difficult for the athletic hero, but he was used to it. He had been waiting for his entire life – waiting for permission to try a quadruple backflip, waiting for the bright lights to showcase his talents with his parents, waiting for someone to save him from the detention center, waiting for Bruce to allow him to become Robin, waiting for Batman to rescue him when he was kidnapped as either Robin or Dick Grayson, waiting for Bruce to recognize that they both needed to apologize. Waiting was not Nightwing's strength, but he could spend hours on a stakeout and days waiting for a rescue.
The rain was coming down in sheets, and Nightwing was confident that nobody could see him in the shadows of the towering 'W'. The night was moonless, the only light coming from the flashes of lightning above and the weak beams of yellow streetlights below.
And there it was. A nearly invisible silhouette flitted across the open window on the seventeenth floor of the opposite building. The quiet gasp of fear and the almost inaudible sound of a silenced gun didn't escape the sharp hearing of the black-and-blue-clad hero.
Without hesitation, Nightwing ran to the edge of the roof and gracefully dove off. He pulled out his grappling gun and shot it, perfectly catching the hook on the lip of the open window. The rope became taut and the hero swung up, easily sliding through the gap and rolling out of the way of the expected bullet. The bullet didn't come, surprising but not concerning Nightwing.
He soundlessly jumped to his feet, only to discover an empty room. Carefully scanning the shadows, Nightwing turned slowly in a circle, searching for the criminal that he knew was still there. The air behind him swished across his dark hair, and Nightwing automatically crouched and spun around. A knife sliced through the space where he had been standing not three seconds before, and the hero narrowed his eyes. Whoever the criminal was, he or she was quick.
A tall figure emerged from the shadows of a darkened doorway. Nightwing stood up, a frown of disappointment flashing across his face. He hadn't even seen the faint, rectangular outline that led to another room.
"Nightwing."
The voice was deep and full of scorn. Nightwing quickly searched his memory bank for a matching tone, but nothing stood out. A new criminal or a long-forgotten one?
"You disappoint me," the voice continued. "I expected more from the young man trained by Batman."
Obvious contempt dripped through the emphasis of the last word. Batman, Nightwing concluded easily, was the actual target. Which meant the person was either going to try to kidnap or kill the younger hero. Some kind of revenge against the older hero, no doubt.
"What do you want?" Nightwing asked casually.
"You."
The reply was immediate and firm.
"Okay, what do you want from me?" Nightwing said with an internal sigh.
Apparently the person was going to attempt to kidnap him, probably in order to bring Batman out into the open to 'rescue' him.
"Before you answer that," Nightwing continued, "you should know that Batman won't come after me. I can take care of myself."
The person snorted and countered, "Batman will always come after his protégé."
"Not anymore," the hero retorted.
"Ah yes, the rumor of a fight," the criminal answered, a smile obvious in his voice. "I highly doubt a small argument could keep a hero from finding his pseudo-son."
A small argument. Yeah, that's all it was. No harsh words thrown around, no insults, no need for apologies, no regrets. Just a small argument.
Nightwing kept those thoughts to himself. He was waiting again, impatiently this time. The figure stepped toward the hero as a streak of lightning lit up the sky. Nightwing again searched his memory bank, searching for the unfamiliar features that he had only glimpsed.
Dark hair slicked back from a prominent forehead, across which was stretched a thin scar. The slight bump on the long nose suggested the need for glasses. Or maybe he, for the figure was a he, used them as a disguise. The man's ears were small but stuck out from his head like wings on a butterfly. His face was long, with no hint of fat except the beginnings of what could become a double chin.
"I assume you do not recognize me, young sidekick," the man stated.
"I'm not a sidekick," Nightwing immediately retorted.
"Oh, please forgive me," the criminal replied sarcastically. "You have grown up so much, haven't you? Graduated high school, moved out from wherever the Bat was hiding you, becoming your own 'man'. So grown up and ready to prove yourself."
Nightwing quietly growled but held his tongue, refusing to allow the man to bait him.
"Are you done with the monologue?" he asked instead. "I have a date tonight so I want to wrap this up as soon as possible."
"No, you don't," the man replied. "Nightwing doesn't date. Maybe your alter-ego does, but you as you are do not."
"Fine," the hero said, rolling his eyes, "my alter-ego has a date. What do you want?"
"No, you still don't," the criminal responded. "Dick Grayson doesn't have a date tonight. His calendar is completely empty."
Nightwing's eyes widened in surprise. How did this man know who he was? He was always so careful whenever he returned to his apartment.
"You're wrong," the young man stated confidently.
"Am I?" the man asked contemptuously. "The only thing I can't figure out is the identity of Batman. Simpering little Brucie Wayne is not even in Batman's league, so it's obviously not your – oh, sorry – Dick Grayson's guardian."
"Batman's identity is secure, my identity is secure, you're a confused criminal. If you just come with me now, they might put you in the State Pen instead of Arkham. But if you continue going down this path…" Nightwing trailed off ominously.
"What crime have I committed?" the man inquired, another flash of lightning showing off the crooked tooth in the middle of his shrewd grin.
"I heard the gunshot," Nightwing stated, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Did you?"
The criminal pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it at the young hero. It was a small tape recorder. Nightwing pressed the play button and heard the distinct sound of a gun fitted with a silencer. He tossed it back to the man.
"You threw a knife at me. Attempted assault with a deadly weapon."
"Did I?"
The man began walking along the perimeter, Nightwing watching every movement carefully and turning his body so he was always facing the criminal. Crouching by the open window, the man picked something up. A perfectly-timed streak of lightning shimmered off the steel of a wicked-looking knife.
"Catch," the man said casually, tossing the weapon to the hero.
Nightwing did. Rubber, stained with something to make any light glint off the edges as if it were real.
"Attempted assault," Nightwing amended with a shrug. "It's still enough for me to bring you in. Let's go."
"It's a child's toy, Nightwing," the man said with a condescending laugh. "You will be mocked right out of headquarters if you bring me in and say I attempted to assault you with a toy."
It was a good point, Nightwing had to admit it to himself. The man was obviously smart, something the hero hadn't considered before now.
Light suddenly flooded the room. Both men squinted against the brightness and turned to find the source. A large woman stood by the door that led to the hallway. Her round face was fixed in a permanent scowl and her red hair stuck out from her head like a scarecrow.
"Lez go," she said, her voice surprisingly high-pitched.
"And who are you?" Nightwing asked cordially.
"Hez momma, and we go," she answered firmly.
Nightwing's gaze moved from the woman back to the man, who was also scowling.
"Your…momma?" the hero inquired with a smirk.
The man nodded as he said, "I look forward to speaking with you again."
Then Nightwing's world went black.
