Title: Downward Spyral
Series Summary: Loosely tied One-Shots as information about Dick's time at Spyral is brought to light. The rest of the Bat-Family start to realize Dick Grayson as as much of an open book as originally expected, and maybe there is more of a story to his death than they assumed.
Story Summary: Tiger King of Kandahar was many things, but sentimental was never one of them. Too bad no one warned him about Dick Grayson, and his amazing power to make people care.
Tiger King of Kandahar was many things, but sentimental was never one of them.
Tiger had no interest in the hero turned spy and felt nothing when he heard Dick Grayson was going to join their ranks. Then he found out the former hero was going to be his partner and that disinterest became thinly veiled disdain, and an obvious distrust. The disdain became a reluctant respect and maybe left him just slightly impressed. The next thing he knew the kid was under his skin, and though he hated to admit it, but the time Agent 37 left their ranks, Tiger was just a little sad to see him go.
The file on Agent 37 was limited, former hero. Nightwing, known for his flashy style and flirty nature. Tiger was expecting some pampered meta with an overinflated ego and very little skill that actually translated to their work as spies. He was only half right.
Dick was loud and bright in person, but far more skilled than even Dick gave himself credit for. He melted into the shadows, moved in silence, was quick and dependable. He didn't kill, but at the speed and skill he was able to incapacitate the targets, no one seemed to care. The agent file didn't match the skill set. It took time for Tiger to realize things didn't quite add up, a reluctance to know his partner as anyone but Agent 37.
Dick would take down a room of heavily armed guards with nothing but a handgun and not take a single shot; all with a constant commentary of quips and a one-sided conversation. He talked as if completely aware his partner wasn't going to answer and filled the space for them both.
It was there in the occasional offhand comment that gave Tiger a deeper look into his partners history.
"This reminds me of the time I was locked in an industrial freezer in the meatpacking district." Agent 37 tossed out as they passed by a frozen body on the floor of an abandoned arctic lab.
"I haven't been waterboarded since I was like 14," Dick coughed out between gasps, hair dripping into his face and lips blue from the cold. The man holding him by the back of the neck dunked him back in.
In the time they worked together he's seen Dick beaten, tortured, and shot. He could fight his way through the impossible with a metal pipe and a smile. But it was a pill that broke Agent 37. The man had caught some string of the flu and was held up in medical until his fever broke. The nurse wanted him to take an aspirin, a small white pill only to send the man into a complete panic. It took two doctors, (one with a sedative), a new nurse, and Tiger himself to calm the man down.
Tiger wasn't proud when he fled the scene before the sedative could even take full effect.
Two months later, the event forced from his mind. They were held up in a safe house in Russia. Agent 37 – who at some point became Richard – had a bullet wound through the shoulder and a graze on the opposite bicep.
Dick took care of the bullet wound on his shoulder with quick efficiency, the graze gave him a little more difficulty due to the bandage preventing him from getting the right angle. Tiger took pity on him, taking care of the second wound without a word.
A couple screamed at each other a floor above, arguing about money while a baby cried across the hall.
When finished, Tiger ducked into the kitchen grabbing two pain killers from the emergency kit and an unopened bottle of water. He returned, holding both out to his partner. Dick took the water, but grimaced at the pills, "Pass," his voice already rough with the adrenaline crash.
"Don't be a martyr."
Dick avoided eye contact, leaning back against the headboard. "I don't do pills"
"And why is that?" Tiger asked, hand still hovering. He saw the other man's jaw clench and there was a long moment of silence. Tiger placed the pills on the bed side table and disappeared into the bathroom for a quick shower.
He came back out not ten minutes later to find Grayson sitting in front of the television eating directly from a can of beans with a plastic spork. He paused long enough to point to the few cans on the coffee table: peaches, corn, off-brand pasta, and something with a cartoon rocket in Russian.
A few hours past, when Dick started talking, face lit up by the softly glowing tv. He talked about the Crime Syndicate, Lex Luthor, dying then being forced to stay dead. He trailed off, voice rough. Dick wouldn't make eye contact, placing his mostly still full can on the table again. "That's why I can't take pills." Dick hefted himself to his feet.
"Richard, why tell me?" Tiger asked, watching his partner with curious eyes.
The other man shrugged eyes drifting to the apartment window. They had a rather impressive view of the rainy street below, intentional for a safe house if someone needed to stand guard.
"Someone should know," he said after a few long moments and disappeared into the bedroom.
They didn't talk about that night ever again.
Dick was furious. How dare He. How dare Bruce force Dick to be here with Him.
As if aware of his stare, Lex Luthor turned and caught his eye. The man had the audacity to wink.
Dick didn't know if he was about to have a panic attack or lose his shit.
A cry of "The fuck, Dickhead?" brought him back enough to realize the crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered, and blood was now dripping from his fist into the puddle of liquor on the floor. He was drawing a crowd now, a staff member pushing through, apologizing profusely. Stating "there must have been a crack, and "nothing like this ever happens''.
Jason, having drawn the attention in the first place, was ready to offer a snide remark when he saw Tim's face. Tim, who as far as Jason knew, was still on the same page for the whole Screw-Goldie Thing. Tim was openly concerned, which was curious to Jason, because it was just glass. Not like Grayson was dying, if he was, he and Bruce would probably lie about it again.
Tim had a perfect angle for the whole event. Dick freezing, Luthor turning, the smirk and wink. The glass shattering and Dick going deathly pale. His hands started to shake and eyes glazing over. He might not be on speaking terms with Dick at the moment, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't notice something was clearly wrong. Tim moved forward, grabbing the older male by the wrist, only for him to flinch violently back. Dick curled in on himself injured hand to his chest the other over his mouth.
For Dick everything was too loud. His suite was too tight. The lights were too bright. A hand touched his wrist, the hand calluses and rough like leather, he was suddenly back bomb to his chest and Luthor standing over him with a pill in hand.
Then, Tim and Jason were being boxed out by a tall man in a staff uniform. Across the room a drunk man dumped his drink down Lex Luthor's white suit. When Jason and Tim looked back Dick and the waiter were gone. Jason frowned at the spot Dick used to be, starting to understand why Tim was so concerned in the first place.
There was a moment of chaos, the crowd's attention pulled towards the new entertainment as Luthor threw back handed comments at the man while wait staff rushed to clean out the wine. Damian appeared at Tim's side with Bruce on his heels.
Bruce glanced between the two older boys, "What happened?" he asked, directing them to a secluded edge of the room, voice hovering somewhere between Bruce and Batman.
"Replacement and I were off to get a drink, when we found Dickie-boy staring into space. He randomly crushed his glass and proceeded to freak the fuck out."
"Language," Tim mumbled, still clearly lost in thought.
Causing Jason to snort in response, "One of the waiters came over to clean up the mess Goldie made. Luckily some poor drunk made a mess all over Lexie pulling the attention away from us."
"Where's Grayson now?" Damian demanded.
"I don't know, Demon Brat. There was another waiter, he probably took him to get his hand cleaned up." Jason shrugged, none the less craning his neck to look across the room for the familiar head of dark hair.
Bruce pulled out his phone, most likely reaching out to Oracle to start up one of the million trackers he kept on his kids.
"No," Tim shook his head with an ever-deepening frown, "Dick wouldn't even let me touch him, why would he go with a stranger?"
This earned a "What?" from Damian and a sharp look from Bruce.
Tim kept his gaze on Jason, who searched the crowd with a new determination "Jason, I think that man was armed too."
There was a moment's pause before his shoulders slump, "Shit, I was hoping I was imagining that."
"So, someone drugged him?" Damian asked, sounding more scared then he probably ever intended.
"No, it was when he saw…" Tim trailed off, face scrunching as it did when working on a complex case. "Bruce," He waited long enough to pull the man away from his phone, "Why would Dick be afraid of Lex Luthor."
The slight twitch in Bruce's hand put them all on edge. They were all trained to read the man's body language, his hand twitching to form into a fist upon reflex, before he could catch it.
A chime from his phone interrupted whatever he was going to say, "Oracle" he greeted, placing the device to his ear. He started nodding with what the woman was saying, heading to the closest exit, Robins, past and present following close behind.
"According to her findings, Dick was six blocks away perched on the roof of an abandoned building tucked in the old industrial district with a dark suited man." They stopped at the closest cash to change, before taking off into the night.
They arrived like this, Damian with sword in hand flew in silently from the right, to what he thought was an unsuspecting foe, only for said foe to roll back backwards. Grabbing Damian's shoulder, the man used the momentum to pivot them and shove the child back onto the roof square into Tim who was coming up from behind.
Jason - moving with a gun drawn - was caught off guard by the swirling blur where the man's face should have been, giving said man enough time to snatch the gun, and give a solid kick to the solar plexus. Jason stumbled, catching his heels on the pile of Robins crashing on top of them.
The man shot three bullets from the newly acquired gun, one forcing Bruce to drop the batarange in his hand, one at his foot, forcing him to step back. The last was off to a building to their right, which earned a laugh from Jason as he jumped to his feet.
A crack echoed after the gunshot, and the whistle of a chord whipping through the air. An ominous grown as the brick factory chimney held up with the tension of iron cables the clasp clearly just shot, fell towards them. It landed with a crash, sending dust and dirt across the roof leaving a clear divide between the Bats and remaining two.
When the dust settled, the man was back at Dick's side. Not captive, Bruce realized, but protective. Dick's hand was bandaged, plastic bag a little way away tied shut with what was probably medical equipment. Even in this light Dick was pale, but he seemed more relaxed than any of them had seen him in ages.
Dick placed a hand on his companions' shoulder, muttering something that caused him to relax. The companion said something, voice scrambled and lost, but Dick laughed as if he understood.
It takes them longer than expected to realize Dick is talking the man down from hurting them. It ends with the companion finally nodding, and underhand tossing Jason his gun.
"You can always come back, 37," the man said, voice suddenly clear, deep and thick with a middle eastern accent.
Dick cocked his head in thought, "Only if I get to be in the teens," he offered with a playful smirk.
"High 20's."
"Just for that single digit or nothing."
The man snorted, shaking his head fondly, "Say hi to M for me." His face turned back to the bats, "she's with the Birds of Prey now, yes?"
Dick made a noncommittal hum. "If I see her around," he shrugged. "You should probably get going."
The man followed Dick's gaze to the assembled heroes. The bats were all coiled tight and tense. He said something in return, voice once again a mesh of sounds.
Dick smiled a little softer than before, "Sure, Tiger."
The other man's head snapped back to Dick to grumble.
"Like you could stop me." Dick laughed. The man shook his head, only for Dick to laugh harder.
The man rolled his shoulders, nodded once to Dick and took a running start over the edge of the building.
Unaspiringly it was Jason who broke the silence, "Who the fuck was that?"
"Old contact from Spyral," Dick shrugged, clearly unconcerned. He started to gather any stray medical equipment in the plastic bag.
The silence stretched until Tim finally prompted "And?"
Dick glanced up with a small frown, "Nothing to worry about, it's being dealt with."
"What happened at the gala is being dealt with, or his reason for a visit is being dealt with?" Tim asked.
Dick leaned heavily against the edge wall off the roof, studying the others with a blank expression. "The latter, because clearly there isn't anything wrong with the former."
The echoing sound so sirens cut off any rebuttal, two cop cars screamed down the street towards the Gala they all just escaped. "You should deal with that, Batman." There was a tense moment before Batman gave a tight nod and took off after the police.
"You should join him," Dick said, watching his former mentor disappear into the distance. "Never know about back up."
"Goldie-" Jason started, only to be cut off.
"Mr. Hood." Dick countered, looking pointedly at the other's uniforms and then down at his suite. Even in the dim light they could see the copper stains of blood on his uninjured hands. Jason growled low in his throat but didn't continue.
"Grayson?" Damian whispered, watching his older brother carefully.
"I'm fine," Dick gave a small smile.
"Are you st-"Damian continued.
Dick shook his head, ignoring the small stab of guilt when Damian tried to not look disappointed. "I have to head back to Bludhaven." The youngest nodded in understanding.
The beep of the coms cut through the conversation, "Sorry boys," Barbra said, sounding apologetic compared to her typical sass expected when interrupting them. "Need assistance on 4th Ave; hostage situation with Penguin's men. And B is currently busy trailing green question marks across the city."
"Robin and I will take Penguin," Red Hood volunteered, earning a snort from the younger boy but no argument. "Replacement, follow the Batman." Tim nodded. "Grayson," Jason trailed off.
Dick flashed a lazy smirk that didn't reach his eyes and threw a salute, "Have a safe night." He let himself tip back, falling over the edge of the building. He used his good hand to grab the flagpole, flip to streetlight, and land in an easy couch.
They watched Dick head down the street, "He didn't say no," Damian said in a whisper, Jason and Tim both snapped their gaze to him. "When the guy invited him back to Spyral, Grayson didn't say no."
"I mean, he wouldn't, right?" Tim asked no one in particular.
"I'll do some digging. Dick called the guy Tiger, right?" Barbra offered; the others hummed in agreement. "But for now, you all need to move." she pushed.
"Right," Tim shook himself, "See you guys at the cave." He pulled a grapple from his waist, not waiting for a reply and taking off after Batman.
Jason and Damian disappeared in the other direction, following their own set of coordinates towards the Penguin.
Dick slipped back into this Bludhaven apartment, using his foot to toe off his shoes and locking the door with hooded eyes. He wandered into the kitchen, only to double back to the file with the Spyral logo and a pizza box. He went for the food first, stomach growling in agreement. It was still warm, from his favorite place down the block. A single slice was missing, a post-it was stuck to the inside.
In Tigers neat handwriting: "You need to eat more. I still don't understand your obsession with this place. The place in South Africa was better."
Dick barked out a laugh, smiling fond at the food. He grabbed the file next, flipping to page one and catching himself up on the situation.