"Dick, dear, where did you go?"

"I'm here mom," a young Richard "Dick" Grayson called from the curtain.

He'd been peering out at the crowd, maybe their biggest one yet. The Haly Circus had been traveling the East Coast for years and with it, the Flying Graysons. He'd grown up on the road, schooled in all the major fields of study like any regular child: reading, writing, mathematics, science, and, obviously, acrobatics. Little Dick was gifted in all of them, making everything from simple algebra to backflips on a high wire look easy. This year he'd turned eight in the spring and joined the show in the fall. Outside in Gotham it was raining. He would come to know that it was so often raining in Gotham. For now, he could hear the rhythm of the water drops on the tarp and the cold moisture in the air. Moisture, and a current. The live wire of energy before a performance. Something felt different tonight, though, a tension in the adults. His mother came up behind him and put her face above his, peering out at the crowd.

"Looks big," she observed, running her hands down her bright red uniform. "You nervous, little robin?"

"No mom! I'm fine! I'm ready to go!"

"You sure? Have you stretched?"

"Of course I have. Hey mom, think I could try the high wire tonight?"

"Oh I don't know about that," Mary Grayson bit her lip.

It was true that Dick was especially good for his age, more gifted than even she'd been. But he was still awfully young and the high wire was awfully high. And they hadn't rehearsed it this way. John would've said go for it, but John was impulsive. His lack of fear made him an excellent acrobat and a permissive parent. Mary was going to have to step in and be the adult here.

"Please mom? I can do it. I'll use the safety net."

"We didn't rig the net for tonight… How about we keep working on your act and you can start incorporating the high wire in the next city?"

"But mom!"

"Stick to the groundwork tonight, squirt. And if you impress me with your next training session we can start talking. Now, go get ready. It's curtain call here in a minute."

Dick sighed heavily, already dramatic for an eight-year-old, but he knew when he was beat. Slinking off to the changing room, he switched from sweatpants into a skintight red uniform that matched his mother's. The logic in his mind told him it was perfectly reasonable that the danger levels for someone his age should be kept low, that his mother had every right to be worried. And still the pride in him knew he could do it. It wasn't much, but he wanted to contribute. Even if it was making people gasp and smile, even then he wanted the world to be better than it was.

"I already told you," hissed a voice from the other side of the wall. Dick hesitated with his boots, curious. "The answer is no, Mr. Zucco. Even if we had the money I wouldn't give it to you."

"Now that's a real shame," answered an sleezy voice that sounded… experienced. Like he'd done this before. "Because I would hate to see your circus go under. Gotham's a dangerous place. Accidents happen."

"No, Mr. Zucco. Now the show is starting. If you would like to watch you may share my box but otherwise I must kindly ask you to leave."

"Sure," the sleezy voice all but laughed. There was a crunching sound like someone biting into an apple and then he spoke again, muffled. "I'll watch."

"Dick, what are you doing," came his mother's voice from the door. "It's curtain call."

"Mom," he whispered, keeping his ear to the thin wall. "There's a man threatening Mr. Haly."

"I'm sure it's nothing," she brushed him off. "Just business. People have been trying to buy out the circus for years. Now come on, we're on second."

From that moment on Dick remembered the night in perfect clarity. The smells, the sounds, the heat of the lights, enough detail that even Gotham's Dark Knight was impressed. He could still do his routine to this day, his last performance as one of the Flying Graysons. He remembered completing a series of flips and handsprings, landing, then making a grand gesture up to the high wire. He remembered his parents on either side, dexterous feet stepping out onto the wire. They didn't have a net because that would "detract from the spectacle," and Dick never forgave Mr. Haly for that. The high wire snapped. John and Mary Grayson fell three stories and died on impact. It wasn't the first time he'd heard the crunching, snapping sound of bones breaking and it wouldn't be the last, but it was the most… deafening. In that moment he'd ceased to be a child and, in the moments that followed, he became something more than a person.

Cops had passed him around, treated him like a traumatized child and, to be fair, he was one. A child seething with hatred, yearning for vengeance. Finally, strong hands had settled on his shoulders and he looked into the face he would come to know as father. It was a stern face, one that recognized his rage. He hadn't known instantly, it had taken him a few days in Wayne manor to find out, but this was Gotham's Dark Knight. The man who, with a little persuading, would give him something better than vengeance. Justice.

Starfire knocked on the door to the second bedroom in Dick's apartment, lightly tapping the wood with her knuckles. When he made no reply she took that as permission to enter and twisted the door knob. It was dark inside save for the light of a single lamp on a desk and the white light of a small television. It illuminated a lean figure leaning back in his chair. His shoulders were narrow and his hair was carefully styled; she could tell even from his back that he cared greatly about his appearance. He wore a black, long-sleeved shirt and was drumming his fingers on the desktop. She opened her mouth to say something, reconsidered, the approached. Bent over and slid her hands down his chest, resting her chin on his shoulder. He stiffened under the contact, then, remembering it was her, leaned his head back into her to smell her hair. Reaching up, he curled his fingers around hers.

"That time already," he asked, pausing the tape.

"I do not mean to interrupt your work," she answered. "Only to remind you that even one with great fortitude such as yourself must eat. I have prepared a chicken in the way of a wild gnorthrak. Or at least, that is what I set out to do. The result may be less than appetizing."

"I'm sure it's delicious Star. Just, give me a minute to finish up."

"Please, what has your attention so strongly fixated?"

Dick Grayson squeezed her hand, then leaned forward towards the television. It was old, at least fifteen years, without any of the modern internet connectivity that was unavoidable in modern appliances. It had been challenging, but he'd come across a tape while investigating potential metahumans and its contents could not be ignored. Rewinding with the audible click of a button, Dick paused again and looked back at Starfire. She understood and came around to his side, squatting next to him.

"I've been tracking someone with geokinetic abilities," he said calmly, as if this was an everyday sort of conversation topic. "She robs banks, sloppy work too. Comes up through the floor, smashes the cameras, then makes off with a couple thousand in cash. Her name's Terra Markov."

"Do you think she could be a member of our team," Starfire asked, squinting at the film.

"No. She's a thief and she likes it. And now, she's a murderer. Here, watch."

Dick pressed the play button and leaned back out of the way. Starfire, on the other hand, brought her nose to the screen. On it a black and white most likely male figure in a ski mask was waving a gun and backing up. He looked to be in a small store, but no one else was on the camera. Then the tile behind him opened up and he stumbled, dropping the gun and falling backwards. Crawled away as a woman with long blond hair came into view. There was an aura around her hands like they were glowing and when she raised them, chunks of cement floated. Suspended in the air. A young man came up from behind her and placed himself between her and the man who'd had the gun. He was much more noteworthy in his appearance, with a square face and fangs. As if that weren't enough, his ears were clearly long and pointed. There was no sound on the recording, but his mouth was moving like he was shouting at her. When that didn't dissuade the woman, he did something unexpected. In a blur of flesh the human was gone and in his place was a black bear. He put his paws on the woman's shoulders and pushed her back. Her fist clenched and a large chunk of cement smashed into the bear's head, knocking him down. Disoriented, he changed back into a quite naked man and cradled his head. The woman, Terra, took advantage of his distraction to finish her task. Keeping her back towards the camera, she brought her hands down and with them came all the levitating earth. It smashed into the first man's head and flattened his skull. Black gore sprayed out, and then Dick hit the pause button.

"A shapeshifter," Starfire observed, pulling away from the screen and breathing deeply. Keeping her calm even as rage at the senseless violence simmered inside her. "It looks like he tried to stop her."

"I think this is another metahuman I've been tracking," said Dick, also talking over the fact that they'd just watched a man be brutally murdered. "There were reports of robberies all over the country a year or so back. Cameras would record small mammals carrying sacks before something chewed through the wires. Fingerprints were found at all the scenes, but they were different every time and didn't match anyone in the databases. Jewels mostly. They went on for about three years and then stopped. I think the perpetrator is a shapeshifter and, unless there's two of them, I think we found him."

"He is terribly young," observed Starfire, reaching out and touching the horrified face on the screen. "He would've been a child four years ago."

"The best lead I have is a Nicholas Galtry, attorney to Mark and Marie Logan. Their peers called it pseudoscience, but they were working on a mutagenic virus called Sakutia in Africa. They had a son, Garfield, and when they were presumed dead Galtry took custody of Garfield. He also came into a lot of money around that time, money that dried up about a year ago. I think Garfield got away, but we'll have to ask him. I don't think he's involved in Terra's thievery, though, the MO's don't match at all. She wouldn't need to smash the cameras if he was helping."

"And Terra," Starfire mused, her voice hardening. "She killed that man."

"It's worse than that. I got to this tape fast, but someone else, someone with a lot of resources, has removed it from circulation. Not even the police have seen it. Someone's making a move against these metahumans, someone powerful."

"We must get to them first," exclaimed Starfire, standing and giving Dick a fierce look.

"We can't go in guns blazing," Dick said calmly, taking her hand in his. "You've moved in with Rachel, which is good, but we're still nowhere near close enough to trust her. Not completely. And I only just found contact information for the cyborg."

"So you suggest we do nothing," Starfire spat, personally offended.

"No. That's not an option. I intercepted a message sent to Terra's phone; whoever has the footage wants to meet with her. Whatever reason they have, I can't be good. I'll go as Nightwing. They'll never know I was there."

"I see," said Starfire, squeezing his hand and looking down. "And you were not going to tell me?"

"The meeting's tomorrow night. I was going to assess the situation and see if I would need your backup."

"Against Terra? Or against Garfield?"

"The tape only shows Terra committing a crime. It's pretty clear that Garfield was trying to stop her. Still, he's just as exposed as she is. Maybe they're not interested and no one will show up. Maybe both of them are involved. Regardless, I think I'll need you on standby."

"No Dick," she said with a shake of her head. "I'm coming with you."

They were out in the desert, maybe a mile from the boarders of Jump. Out to the East where the stone was rough and red and the sun beat down into the earth relentlessly. In the day it was hot, but there was no moisture out here, so now, in the night, it was icy cold. Not so cold that Nightwing could see his breath, but cold enough to be cause for some discomfort. He crouched at the summit of a cliff, waiting, for two hours now. The moon tracked its way across the sky above him, the stars spun, and still he waited. It was almost time now. No sooner did he have the thought then a dust cloud on the horizon told him they'd come. Three jeeps with bright lights making their own was across the rocky flats and into this clearing. Beneath him the earth moved, cracking and groaning, and from it a young woman emerged. She had long blond hair that hung loosely to her waist and large, brilliantly blue eyes he could make out even from this distance. Her face was oval and her scowl was sincere. Nightwing gripped the microphone and whispered into his communicator:

"Star, they're here."

"I understand," she whispered back from somewhere nearby, up in the air where no one would look. "I am ready."

"What's this about," demanded the woman, folding her arms as three men exited the front jeep.

"We saw your performance is all," said the only man wearing a suit, facing her boldly. "And if this doesn't go smoothly the whole world will see it. I have no illusions about you, Ms. Markov, you would easily defeat myself and my men. The wrath of the world's governments, though, is another story."

"Okay, you've made your point," she scoffed, giving him a cold smile. "So what do I have to do to make this "go smoothly?""

"It's easy, really," said the man, adjusting the buttons on his sleeve. "I want Garfield Logan."

"Gar," she repeated, incredulous. Then, catching her slip, she hardened again. "I don't know who that is."

"Don't be coy, Ms. Markov. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The one on the tape with you. The shapeshifter."

"Why," Terra demanded, dropping the pretense quickly. "He hasn't done anything. He's innocent."

"I'm not concerned with guilt and innocence, only with science. We have unfinished business, Garfield and I. His parents cut me out at rather a vital time in our research. I wish to continue and that is the full story."

"You're talking about him like he's some kind of animal. Something to be studied. What makes you think I'll just hand him over?"

"It's a simple question of nature. Garfield is an animal, a very advanced one but an animal nonetheless. He stopped being human years ago and one day, someone, somewhere, will catch him. At least I recognize his value to science persists only while he's alive. I'm a geneticist, Ms. Markov, I won't cut him open like others would."

"Was that supposed to make me feel better? Because it didn't."

"Your nature," the man continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Is self-preservation. You know you're just like Garfield, a monster among men, and just like him, someday, someone will catch you. You only just now stopped running and look, I caught you. The deal is simple: give me Garfield and I'll let you go. No one else needs to know what happened in that store or of what you are capable."

"You're asking me," Terra pleaded, casting her blue gaze skyward as if to ask the heavens for advice. "To give up someone I care about."

"Then ask yourself," pressed the man. "What do you care about more? This changeling you hardly know, who's secrets you're still not privy to, or your own survival. That is your choice, Ms. Markov. Make it quickly. We will be in touch."

"We cannot let them escape," Starfire's voice blared in Dick's ear and it took all his willpower not to flinch. "We need to stop them."

"You go after the men in the jeeps," Dick said, readying two escrima sticks, each about the length of his forearm. "I'll take Terra."

He didn't hear her confirm, he saw it. Out of the sky a rain of neon green bolts of energy began to fall. The men shielded their heads and eyes and sought refuge in their jeeps. Dust was kicked up into the air as tires spun, obscuring her aim, but Starfire came in lower, aiming for the tires. Dick leapt from his perch, did a nimble flip, then landed before Terra. She'd had her hands up to shield her face from the dust, but when she saw him she dropped them to her sides. She knew, maybe not who he was but why he was there. Her hands and eyes lit up with an ethereal yellow light and all around her the stones began to tremble.

"You picked the wrong night for a stroll," she said, bringing up her hands and a hundred rocks with them.

"Terra Markov," he said, holding out his weapons. "I'm taking you in for the crime of murder and, I suspect, robbery."

"Murder," she scoffed, smiling a wicked smile. "Please. You don't even know his name, no one knows his name. He was robbing a convenience store and I did society a favor."

"You didn't have to kill him."

"Maybe I felt like it!"

She extended a hand towards him and the stones came flying in, one after another. He batted them from the air with his staffs, dodging the debris with a series of acrobatic moves. Terra snarled, tucking her chin to her chest and bringing her hands together. The earth beneath Dick shifted and engulfed one foot as it touched the ground after a flip. He fell and his contorted joints cried out in pain. His hands reached out to brace himself, but they too were swallowed up. Dick strained but the stone was unrelenting. Terra approached him, smiling a wicked smile and lifting those glowing hands above her head. A large boulder followed her will, levitating. They both knew what was about to happen, but before it could rays of green energy burst the boulder into dust. Terra looked up to see Starfire hovering just out of reach.

"I will not let you harm my friend," she said harshly, eyes alight with green energy. "I will stop you."

"But will you stop me in time," Terra spat, holding out her hand towards the city. "I'll trigger an earthquake. Dozens could die. Am I worth their lives?"

"You wouldn't," shot Dick, though truth be told, he wasn't sure she even could.

Starfire hesitated, sensing the bluff but unwilling to call her on it. Terra smirked.

"Wouldn't I? I just killed a man yesterday and you know what I learned?" She leaned in towards Dick and in her eyes he could find no remorse. "That it's easy."

"Terra," Dick offered. "You don't have to do this. If you go to the police now you're only looking at a few years in prison."

"And wind up the subject of some mad man's experiment like Gar? No thanks. I'll be on my way. And if I even think you're coming after me, you can say goodbye to downtown."

Cyborg stood in an abandoned warehouse, battle ready. It had been eighteen months since his encounter with the green changeling. Eighteen months of living on his own, surviving in a world made for humans. It had been easy to move funds around and procure an apartment, easy to outfit it for all his needs. The people of Jump were stand-offish and didn't seek to engage him. Still, in the night, he felt compelled to prowl, to protect the weak and defend the innocent. What else was he gonna do? Always quietly, always in secret, and still someone had found him. His thermal scans showed him, crouched in the darkness where he thought no one could see.

"So you're him," came a voice that sounded at once grounded and very cocky. "You're the cyborg."

"And you," Cyborg spat back, staring straight at the form to show he was, indeed, less than hidden. "You're Nightwing."

"You know," Nightwing said, standing and coming out to meet him.

"Wouldn't have come otherwise. I almost thought it was a hoax as is. Some government conspiracy."

"It's not," insisted Nightwing. "You already know it's just me. I meant it when I said I wanted to talk."

"So then talk. I don't appreciate people getting all up in my business."

"Fine," Nightwing huffed, folding his arms. "I'll be blunt then: I need your help."

"I'll pass," Cyborg said dismissively, waving a hand in Nightwing's direction and turning.

"It's about a changeling," Nightwing shouted after him. "He's in trouble. I think his name's Garfield Logan."

Cyborg froze, analyzing. His cybernetic brain remembered him perfectly, his emerald skin and bright smile. The way he'd wanted to do something good. The way he'd picked through the dumpster until he found tofu rather than meat. It didn't surprise Cyborg that he'd gotten into trouble. What did surprise him was how deeply he cared. Nightwing picked up on his hesitation and pressed.

"He's in with some bad people and she's going to sell him out to some worse people soon."

"She," Cyborg repeated, dangerously, turning back to face Nightwing and folding his arms.

"A woman named Terra Markov. She's made a deal with someone she thinks is from the government: her immunity for Garfield. She's killed and it's on tape, her situation is pretty desperate."

"And Gar?"

Nightwing noted the nickname and filed its use away for further analysis later. Sighing heavily, he gave the cyborg a hard, analytical look.

"He's on the tape too. It's how they found him; he turns into a bear and tries to stop her. Now they're both exposed and, I believe, a man named Samuel Register has his eye on the shapeshifter. I know I don't have to tell you it would be bad for Garfield if he was captured by these people."

"So why come to me? What do you want me to do about it?"

"Like I said, I need your help. We don't know when the grab is going down and, frankly, we're not equipped to deal with someone as well armed as Register. Even if we wanted to preemptively kidnap Garfield, well, we're not sure we can do that without exposing all of our identities."

"Come on Nightwing. What's the ask?"

"I'm forming a team," he said plainly, unfolding his arms and gesturing as if to indicate the space where his team would stand. "People like us, who can do some good. If we get enough of us there's no way the government will make a move against us. I want you to be a part of it. Garfield too, if he's interested."

"A team, huh? I'm doing just fine on my own."

"Maybe so. But you could be better with us behind you. Besides that, Garfield's not better on his own. Like it or not, he needs our help. And soon, preferably without Terra finding out. She's a loose cannon."

Cyborg looked down, contemplating for a moment. After over two years on his own it did sound nice, being with other people, not like him but as close as anyone else could get. Doing good on a larger scale. And it needed doing; he'd noticed crime taking a turn for the dramatic in Jump. Samuel Register was not the first man with large resources to engage in sketchy behavior. A superhero team sounded like a good idea, and if anyone was qualified to form it it was the Boy Wonder himself.

"I'll go talk to the grass stain," Cyborg said. "If he knew what was happening he'd come with us."

"You have to do it without Terra knowing," Nightwing cautioned, accepting that the two had history and, again, filing it away for later. "She won't hesitate to escalate and she's not afraid of collateral damage."

"I already know where she works and what her shifts are," answered Cyborg smartly. "I'll get him out before this becomes a problem."