There's a fine line between distraction and destruction.
Dick has distanced himself from everyone he cares for, in a desperate attempt to sort out his distraught feelings for himself. The result? Erratic sleeping patterns, a nonexistent diet, and constant physical abuse as Nightwing.
Heading out again tonight, he channels his anger dangerously through his work, and it threatens not only his own safety but the safety of those he chooses to focus his anger on. Batman knows he has to intervene, but neither of them could have predicted the result.
Dick had woken up around ten o'clock at night. Damian was gone, and the Manor was empty. The sleep that he'd gotten was refreshing and, after eating the cold dinner that sat on the nightstand, Dick had set off for Gotham, but only after patching up his wounds and snatching some fresh supplies from the Batcave. He also figured that Bruce wouldn't mind if he borrowed a car, since he had no other way to get back to his apartment without it.
It was incredible what a bit of sleep, a well balanced meal, and a cold shower could do. Dick felt fully alert, and his mind felt clear. Until tonight, his thoughts had been so turbid and unsettled. He wasn't fully convinced that he was 100 percent yet, but at least he had realized that. He had also come to the conclusion that two days was not long enough to accept her death.
Her. He could scarcely think of the name without jeopardizing the calm, though unsteady, mental state that he'd tied himself into. Dick had bound his mind like a tourniquet, cutting off any thoughts of her from running red into his thinking. For two blissful weeks, she had been all he lived for. She'd been the very blood that kept him living. Now, dangerous as it was, he had to be rid of the thought of her; the memory itself more dangerous to his well being than his job was.
Than what he was about to do.
As he'd raced around Gotham the night before, snatching up any criminal he could find; Dick had gotten wind of a robbery. The more he'd heard about it, the bigger it had gotten, until he'd narrowed it down to a jewelry store in downtown Gotham, where he now waited on the rooftop of the bridal boutique across the street, his mind on the job, and only on the job.
"Batgirl to Nightwing. Where are you?" The comm in his ear crackled. Nightwing pressed it.
"Working. Why?"
"You shouldn't be out here," Batgirl said. Nightwing's jaw tightened angrily and he pressed the comm off again.
I am sick and tired of people telling me what I can and can't be doing, he thought furiously, checking his escrima sticks in their holster. He crouched on the roof.
A man approached the corner where the jewelry store sat, and Nightwing watched him closely. He leaned drunkenly against the street lamp on the corner. A lookout.
Nightwing fired his grappling hook across the street and it embedded itself in the roof of the jewelry store. He tapped the button again and the second grappling hook shot out the opposite end, gripping deep into the concrete at Nightwing's feet and creating a taut zipline. He held fast to the escrima stick and his thumb found the button again, and the line began to retract towards the jewelry store, releasing more line toward the roof of the bridal shop as it did so, in turn pulling the weapon across the street quickly and silently with Nightwing holding tight.
When he reached the opposite roof, Nightwing swung up, and the cording quickly retracted into both ends of the escrima stick; he slipped it back into the holster on his back and ran silently to the other edge of the building. Sure enough, two men knelt by the back door, watching either side of the alleyway. Their accomplices had already entered the building. Gripping the ledge and dropping down to dangle from the roof, Nightwing took a deep breath.
He released the roof, dropping from the first story and landing on the man on the left. He crumpled instantly and Nightwing somersaulted forward, wrapping his arm around the second man's neck, his hand clamping down over his mouth and nose. The guard struggled against his hand, fingernails clawing at the nylon and kevlar glove blocking his air flow until the man's body went limp. Nightwing set him silently on the ground. The criminal's escape van sat idle in the alley, with no driver. A flick of Nightwing's wrist sent a magnetized tracker flying, and it attached to the bumper; just in case one of them escaped.
Nightwing carefully slipped into the building. His finger glanced over a tiny button on his mask, activating his night vision, and he tugged the minicomputer out of his glove pocket. A quick scan of his dark surroundings revealed the deactivated security systems and video cameras. The small jewelry store had only the back room and the front display floor, and Nightwing crossed the back room to the door. He inhaled slowly and then quietly swung the door open just wide enough for him to fit through before closing it behind him. He slipped behind a glass display case.
"-pull this off, we can get the hell out of Gotham," one of the robbers was saying. Nightwing counted four in the room.
"Stop saying 'if' we pull this off, Kaz, it's freaking me out," another whispered.
"Superstitious bastard," the one called Kaz chuckled. "You almost done deactivating the boxes?"
"Give me a minute," a woman whispered. Nightwing slipped along the wall, passing beside her feet in the dark and continuing his way around the room.
"I'm not superstitious!" the first man complained quietly. Kaz snorted.
"You were babbling about ghosts on our ride over here!"
"That was different. So maybe I am superstitious. It saves my life sometimes," he said quietly. "And don't mock me. Ghosts are real."
"Boo," Nightwing hissed near the first man's ear. He screamed loudly, and the woman and Kaz jumped.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Baxtor?!" Kaz growled. Baxtor panted in terror, looking wide-eyed at the corner where he'd heard the voice.
"I heard something!" he cried.
"Keep your voice down, dammit!" the fourth team member finally spoke, his voice menacing and deadly. "Get your imagination in check!"
Nightwing grinned, hidden in the shadows in the far corner of the room. The woman had momentarily stopped her hacking, all four of them spooked by their fellow thief's outburst, and Nightwing saw his opportunity. He laughed.
"What the hell!?" the woman cried, dropping her computer. Nightwing dove out of the way as a pistol with a silencer fired four shots into the corner where he'd been standing. Silence fell again.
"Is it the Batman?" Kaz panted in terror. Nightwing stood up quickly and brought both escrima sticks down on a glass display case. The shatter was deafening, and the sirens that followed were even louder.
"The alarms!" Baxtor cried.
"I didn't finish disabling them!" the woman shouted, bolting for the door. Nightwing stepped in front of her and she screamed, backpedaling into Kaz and sending them both to the floor.
"Nightwing!" she cried, her eyes wide.
"Finally, someone gets my name right," he laughed again, as Baxtor tried to rush him. Nightwing leapt into the air and kicked out, his spinning kick connecting with Baxtor's chest. There was an audible whoosh as his breath raced out of his lungs, and he was thrown backwards. The other two had scrambled to their feet, and Nightwing brandished both escrima sticks. "I'd like this over quickly, if you don't mind," he hissed.
Kaz ran at him. Nightwing ducked under his wild haymaker, and his elbow connected violently with Kaz's neck, sending the man sprawling forward. The woman threw a punch, and Nightwing leaned out of the way. She kicked his knee out from under him, and Nightwing went with the momentum, falling to his knees and then hitting her in the stomach. She doubled over and he swept her legs with his escrima stick, spinning the other in his hand before pressing the button and bringing it down on her stomach, sending an electric charge through her body.
Kaz howled with anger and tackled Nightwing from behind. They rolled over once, and Nightwing flipped to his feet, the other man already charging him. Kaz threw a wild punch for Nightwing's head, and the escrima stick caught his wrist; Nightwing's other hand shot out, and he drilled Kaz in the gut with the blunt end of the escrima stick. When Kaz cried out, Nightwing used the escrima stick that had blocked the punch to crack the thief across the jaw. Blood sprayed from Kaz's lips, and he fell to the floor, down for the count. Nightwing spun to face Baxtor as he charged him, but he'd been a distraction. The fourth man grabbed Nightwing's arms and wrenched them behind his back as Baxtor swung as hard as he could, his fist connecting with Nightwing's stomach.
He cried out and there was an audible crack as his fractured ribs broke under the man's blow. Nightwing bit his tongue and rammed Baxtor's head with his, immediately regretting it as he shouted in pain again; he felt the stitches on his head pop and the room swam before his eyes.
Headbutting with a concussion… not your bes' idea… he thought groggily, but Baxtor had fallen back in a daze. Nightwing inhaled deeply and tore his arms from the man behind him, grabbing his hand and twisting it behind his back until he heard it pop out of socket. The man's scream was drowned out by the sound of the alarms clanging through the store. Nightwing angrily grabbed his head, slammed it down on the jewelry counter to knock him out, and whirled on Baxtor as he recovered from the blow to the head. Nightwing rushed him and delivered a fast uppercut. Baxtor's head snapped back and that was it. The four criminals lay bleeding on the marble floor, and Nightwing could hear the sirens of police vehicles approaching. He stepped over Kaz and walked to the front door as he clutched his side. His ribs were definitely broken. At least three, Nightwing thought bitterly and winced as a squad car raced up. Joan stepped out, leveling her gun at him.
"Stop! GCPD!"
"Cool it, Sweetheart, I'm one of the good guys," Nightwing panted irritably. He could feel the blood running down his face from the freshly popped stitches. "Four inside, two out back, and the guard at the front couldn't have gotten far."
He didn't wait for her response before firing a grappling hook into the roof of the bridal shop and retracting it, pulling him up to safety. He wasn't entirely surprised to find Batman standing there waiting for him.
"What happened?!" Batman said in alarm, tilting Nightwing's head to look at his cut.
"Popped the stitches with a headbutt. No big deal." He laughed wryly, but then winced in pain, his hand returning to just under his chest where the ribs had broken. "What are you doing here? Batgirl was nagging me, but I didn't expect it would be you to come get me. What's up?" The cool night air blew Nightwing's dark hair that wasn't stuck down to his forehead with sweat and blood away from his face. The Gotham lights prevented them from seeing any stars, but it was a clear night nonetheless.
"Nightwing what are you doing to yourself?" Batman asked him frustrated.
"Me? I'm working. As to what I'm doing to myself, I haven't the foggiest idea of what you mean. I don't have time for it, either," Nightwing said, his breathing steadily slowing.
"You're losing control." Batman grabbed his arm. "This isn't healthy; I mean just look at yourself."
Nightwing tore his arm away. "My mirror image reflects what I see in my mentor," he snapped angrily, glaring at Batman.
"Do you really want to be like me?" Batman demanded. "I always wanted better for you."
"Maybe you should have made that clearer," he said icily, walking to the edge of the roof and looking down at the police cars around the jewelry store.
"I don't need another Jason!" Batman yelled. "I just want what's best for you."
"I'm not going to turn into Jason," Nightwing snapped.
"Then what is that?" Batman asked, pointing at the criminals being loaded into ambulances.
"I'm doing my job!" he said again, shouting.
"You're going to end up killing someone!"
"I'm completely in control," Nightwing hissed. "And this is what you wanted, isn't it? Me focused completely on the job."
"But you aren't focused on the job," Batman objected. "You're using this," he gestured at the jewelry store below, "as an outlet for your emotions. If you keep this up, someone is going to get hurt."
"Maybe Jason's right. Maybe sometimes people have to get hurt for the greater good." Nightwing said quietly, his hand tightening on the escrima stick at his side. Batman backhanded him across the face. Nightwing's head snapped to the side and he stumbled, seeing stars. Batman had hit him on the already bruised side of his face; sending an explosive pain along his jaw. Nightwing caught himself on the ledge of the building.
"And what if that someone is Damian, me, or Barbara?" he asked darkly. "Think about what losing someone has done to you. Would you do that to someone you don't know?"
Dick breathed hard, the embarrassment and pain fueling the anger in his chest as he looked down at the ground. Blood dripped from his chin. "I can control myself, Batman. Sure, it was a little excessive, but I didn't even come close to taking their lives! They're thieves; I didn't think I had to put a pillow out before knocking them down!"
"Do you remember how I found Jason?" Batman asked evenly, his cape draped forward over his shoulders. Dick thought for a moment and then closed his eyes, too afraid and humiliated to look up.
"Yeah. Stealing the tires off of the Batmobile."
"He was a thief," Batman said angrily. "I never thought I'd have to teach this lesson to you, of all of my sons."
Nightwing still didn't look up, the heat in his cheeks spreading over his forehead. Blood still ran from the freshly opened cut on his scalp, and the entire left half of his face throbbed.
"Sir," Alfred interrupted over the comm.
"What is it?" Batman demanded. "Now is not a good time."
"Bruce Wayne has a call, Sir. I think you will want to take this." Batman closed his eyes for a second.
"We are not through," he told Nightwing. "Patch it to me," he said in a forced voice to Alfred. After a few seconds a new voice sounded over the comm.
"Mr. Wayne?" a man asked. Nightwing rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.
"Yes, what is it?"
"I'm the Director of Arkham. I'm sorry to call you so late, but there has been a development that has occurred, and as a chairperson of the board, I thought you should know before it hits the news."
"What happened?" Batman asked.
"A villain turned herself into Arkham this evening." Nightwing uncrossed his arms. "Harley Quinn." His breath stuck in his throat as Batman turned to him. "And you will not believe who she is," the man finished.
"Try me," Batman said.