Chapter 3

Nightwing unlocked the door to his apartment and held his pole out defensively. Two starbolts suddenly flew at him. Swiftly, he deflected them, leaving burn marks on the wall and in the carpet. A sigh of disappointment sounded out in the dim apartment. Nightwing switched on the light, never one to embrace voice activated technology. Scanning the room, he saw Starfire suddenly lunge for the open door. He closed and locked it swiftly before throwing himself against the alien and forcing her back against the wall.

He snarled and slapped her. Still grabbing her shoulders, he slammed her against the wall. "I told you that escape is impossible." He briefly glanced at the door and walls, all dented from some powerful force. More than likely a pair of fists trying to find aweak spot in theunyeilding prison.He glared back at her, and was momentarily startled to find her glaring right back at him. His powerful grip on her shoulders lessened slightly before applying more pressure. Starfire winced but simply stared at Nightwing with powerful defiance.

Grunting slightly, he released her and let her slide to the floor. "You're not afraid of me, are you?" The question was blunt, all anger gone from his voice. His face was once again emotionless.

Starfire blinked back tears of pain and rubbed her bruised shoulders, still scowling. "You are most powerful, but, no, I have nothing to fear from a coward who hides his eyes behind glass."

Nightwing didn't even twitch at the insult. "I reveal my eyes to those who I kill. Everyone deserves to see the eyes of their slayer." His mouth moved without a sound as he sub-vocalized to his cybernetic chip. The pole he had dropped on the ground during his assault suddenly grew blades and zipped to his open hand. "You do realize that I can kill you."

Starfire clenched her jaw. "Of course I do. I also realize that you are not one to distribute empty threats. But fear is useless and therefore, I do not fear you."

Nightwing growled and dropped his pole. "So, you're not afraid of anything, then?"

Starfire slowly rose to her feet. "I fear for others, but fearing for myself is selfish."

Nightwing threw his coat to the coffee table and sat in the large reading chair, staring at nothing. "Wonderful philosophy. It suits you." He continued to stare at nothing, his eyes still hidden behind the glass.

"Does your conscience not bother you?"

Nightwing's head snapped over to the alien, who had seated herself across the room from him, against the wall. He almost chuckled. "Do you really think an assassin has a conscience? A killer's conscience has to die before they can do their work effectively."

"That did not answer my inquiry. Are you or are you not plagued by guilt?"

The stoic man stared at the ceiling. "What does it matter? I will continue to kill as long as there are people standing in the way of our cause."

Starfire shifted her legs under her. "So, you would lose yourself in the blood of countless lives that you have stolen, all for what you believe is right." She bit her lip and brushed some red hair behind her ear. "That does not bother you?"

Nightwing pointed at the bedroom. "Go to sleep."

Starfire glared at him before getting to her feet and walking silently to the bedroom. Pausing in the doorway, she turned hesitantly. "Do you not wish to sleep in the bed?"

Nightwing jolted. "I've never used that bed and I don't intend to start now."

The young alien stared at him oddly for a moment before disappearing into the bedroom and locking the door. Nightwing rose from the chair, picked up the bladed pole, and listened until the bed sheets stopped rustling from within the bedroom. Then, he lowered himself to the ground beside the door and put the pole on his lap. He relaxed and let his mind slowly cloud over in the foggy mists of sleep.

---

Dead leaves swirled and twisted in the air as invisible wind whipped his black hair. The dead grass swayed lightly in the frigid breeze, making a ghostly rustling sound. Everything looked lifeless. The dark purple sky was littered with red-tinged clouds, complementing the sickly-yellow sun. He scanned the horizon, instinctively knowing that something was coming.

The ground trembled and shook, making small pebbles dance and clatter against each other. The tremor shook him, rattling his bones as something dark and hideous burst from over the curve of the world. It was a storm. Like the ocean's tide, it swept in, accompanied by harsh, moaning sounds. Blood began to fall from the storm, spattering on the ground. On his hair. Into his mouth. The moaning rose in a crescendo, drowning out the sound of the raining, crimson liquid. The anguish and pain tore at him, ripping at his soul. Screaming joined the tortured moaning and he realized it was his own voice.

Sobbing, he clutched his arms, as if trying to warm himself. The moaning became individual screams, all crying the same accusations. "Who are you…who are you to take us? Who are you to rip us from the world? Who are you to fling us into the abyss?"

The accusations yanked at him, struck him. Broke him. "Who are you to judge us, to take our lives? Who gave you authority?"

He fell to his knees, yelling, tearing at his face until it bled. "Murder. Killer. Heartless. Blood-stained. Empty shell. Who are you, you who are worse than us, to force death upon us?"

He opened his mouth to the sky, letting loose a despairing shriek. The coppery taste of blood covered his tongue and dripped into his throat. It burned, sizzling as it went down.

"Wretch! May you feel our pain, our suffering, our torment. May it rend you apart and devour you. You are no human. You are a monster. An abomination. You do not deserve to walk the worlds."

He continued to scream into the bloody storm.

---

Nightwing jolted awake before the hand could reach his face. He grabbed the wrist before it could strike him, gripped the pole in the other hand, and jabbed it toward the arm's owner.

Starfire squeaked as she found the blade tickling her throat. Nightwing's head turned toward her, breathing raggedly, a feverish sweat glistening on his forehead. Suddenly, he released her and clutched his head, still breathing hard.

"Why are you awake?" he whispered suddenly.

Starfire seemed nervous as she looked at the distraught assassin. "Y-you were screaming in your sleep. I th-thought that perhaps I should wake you." She glanced at his hands. They were bleeding from several nicks and shallow scratches. He had probably cut his hand on the bladed pole during his sleep. Nightwing followed her gaze and quickly hid his hands. He glanced at the holo-screen's screen-saver. Nearly three.

"Get back to sleep." His voice was a whisper, an angry hiss. "Now."

"But what of your hands?" Starfire reached for him.

Nightwing seemed startled. "Why do you care? I'm your kidnapper."

The alien humphed and put her hands on her hips. "You are a fellow sentient being with feelings and emotions. Simply because you wish me ill does not mean I wish you ill. You deserve to be treated for wounds."

Nightwing suddenly laughed, bitterness and ice tainting his laughter. "I deserve nothing. Not pity, not sorrow, not joy. I especially do not deserve compassion or good health."

Starfire unexpectedly grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands out into the open. Hoisting him to his feet forcefully, she nearly dragged him to the kitchen counter. Practically throwing him into a chair, she yanked a roll of metallic-like bandages out from a drawer. Wrapping the material swiftly around his hands, she stepped back and surveyed her work proudly. The gauze-like metal sparked once as the heat from Nightwing's hands activated it. Within a matter of seconds, it began to hum, mending the skin.

"How did you know these were in the drawer?"

"I-I went searching for a spare key you may have hidden. The drawers were the first things I examined."

Nightwing tore off the bandages as soon as he felt it was done. Then, he grabbed Starfire's shoulders and shoved her towards the bedroom. "Go back to bed. Just be thankful I don't hide anything of importance in here."

Starfire stumbled forward, glanced at him for a moment, and closed the door behind her. The lock slid into place behind her. Nightwing glanced at his hand, now free of cuts.

"Sentimental, idealistic fool." He flexed his fingers before gripping them together. The wounds reopened slightly, leaking blood.

Oooh, angst. I don't do this all that much. More on the rest of the people in next chapter.

-Razvanor