My name is Dick Grayson. Ever since I was young, I made a vow to uphold justice, and lived under the shadow of a dark knight. But the dark knight has his city, and I needed my own. It was time I moved out of the dark knight's shadow, and step up. This is my city. My story. And now, it's time for me to rise.
-The Present-
No one ever screams "Help!" in Bludhaven. Cries of distress aren't anything shocking, sudden, or new. It's a sad fact of living in the Bloody Haven: something WILL happen to you throughout the day, and you'd be the luckiest person in the world if it was good news.
Of course, inevitability wasn't the only reason there's never a cry for help. Hopelessness added to that too. With a city so messed up, people had lost all sense of "Hope". The few good men and women who lived there sure tried to change things, but there's only so much so few can do in the light of the law to give people hope.
Which was why sometimes, the best way to give hope is to operate in the shadows of the law.
Ever since news that the "criminal" known as "Nightwing" was confirmed by the BPD, Dick had been doing everything in his power to prove he wasn't a villain. He busted gangs and disrupted dealers. He stopped muggings and prevented rapes. One time, he rescued a cat from a tree for an old lady. She was very grateful, but then she told him he was nine months too early for Halloween.
It had been a rough couple of weeks… but somehow, people began to believe in hope again.
Meanwhile, in the Zee Moores…
"Dammit Tad, you little shit!" a man drunkenly bellowed. Sitting in his armchair with nothing on but a pair of underwear, he crushed the beer can in his hand and threw it on the floor, where a pile of empty beer cans lay. His intoxicated fury was focused on a young man of about sixteen, with blonde hair and a medium build. He was dressed in a hoodie and jeans with a few holes, as well as holding a few comic books in his hand. "What're you doing with that shit in your hands!?"
"Nothing," the young man responded coolly. He had learned long ago that there was no reasoning with his old bastard of a father when he was drunk- which was most of the time. "I'm going to my room."
Tad made to go for his room when the old man suddenly lunged at him. Caught by surprise, Tad was tackled to the floor, his head meeting the old man's fist right after hitting the wooden floorboards.
"You'll!" his father screamed. "Never!" Bam. "Amount!" Pow. "To!" Biff. "ANYTHING!" his father roared.
Blood began to form in Tad's mouth as his face stung. His father spit in his face. "Useless trash," he commented, before getting off of the young man and stumbling to the kitchen.
Tad picked himself up and quickly ran into his room. He knew that he couldn't just lie there- he'd receive a second beating if he did. Instead, he did what he always did: shut himself up in his room. Making sure the door was double bolted, Tad flipped two wall switches, turning on a slowly revolving fan and an overhead light.
The light was enough to illuminate the ramshackle room, yet weak enough that it still left a few dark shadows in the corners. The walls were covered in a frayed, green wallpaper. Tucked into a corner was a mattress covered in sauce stains, with a beaten pillow and a small sheet that was supposed to be a blanket haphazardly on it. To the side, by the window and fire escape, was a wooden desk and a lamp. The two predominant features of the room, however, where the massive amounts of comic books that were both piled high on the desk and strewn about the floor, as well as the newspaper articles that were taped to the wallpaper above his mattress.
"He's wrong," Tad muttered to himself. "I'm not going to be worthless. I'm going to be something." He walked past his desk, depositing the comic books in his hands on the top of a pile to read further later on. Having done so, he stepped on top of his mattress and stared at the newspaper clippings. All of them had to do with sightings about Bludhaven's newest news story: Nightwing.
"I'm going to be a hero… just like you, Nightwing," he vowed.
-X-
Later that night, Tad used the fire escape, descending down the stairs and landing on the alley's cold pavement. He was dressed now in a green hoodie and camouflage pattern cargo pants, as well as dark brown combat boots and black fingerless gloves. Putting the hood above his head, he began walking into his neighborhood. He had no particular direction in mind- just that he would keep on going until something happened.
Walking around the Zee Moores, he was able to observe how terrible its condition was. Bludhaven was a poor city, yes, but the Zee Moores was the butt of the leper. Nothing but low housing tenements in shambles, if not flat out abandoned buildings. The Zee Moores could be gang territory, except no one wanted the Zee Moores. Only the Chief of the Underworld could want the Zee Moores to rule Bludhaven contiguously- and no one's stepped up in the power vacuum since the last one mysteriously disappeared.
After some time, Tad came across three thugs ganging up on one man. Excited at the prospect of doing something, he rushed into the fight. With a yell, he lunged at one of the thugs, taking him down and punching him until the others picked him up and threw him off of the thug.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" the first thug demanded, spitting out some blood.
Tad smirked. The adrenaline rush… it was exciting. He remembered the vow he made to his hero- of how he was going to be a hero just like him. Maybe this could be the start. His start.
"Me? I'm… Nite-Wing," he bragged.
"Knightwing?" the second thug repeated. "Hey Maurice… maybe we shouldn't mess with this guy."
"Man, would you look at him!?" the first thug angrily spat. "This is just some freak wannabe. And soon," he continued, pulling out a switch blade. "He's gonna be a dead wannabe."
"Well then, come get it, boys," Tad taunted. Infuriated, the first thug rushed at Tad. He was able to dodge the blade's first swipe, but was caught in the forearm by a second slash, the blade drawing blood. Scowling, Tad countered by throwing a fist at the thug with all his might. Off balance from the previous slash, the thug was caught by the punch, sending him on the ground.
Realizing they needed to help him out, the other two thugs ganged up on Tad. It became a messy brawl- fists flew, blows led to bruises, and it was a real scrapper. But in the end, Tad came up the victor- bloody, bruised, and out of breath, but the victor.
Despite his physical exertions, a feeling filled him- a feeling unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was more than mere excitement, or an adrenaline rush- it was a purpose, a fire. Then and there, he reaffirmed what he already knew. He would be a hero just like Nightwing.
Tad delivered a kick to each of the knocked-out thugs for good measure, before putting his hood back on and continuing on his way. He had a cut to take care of and some bruises he'd feel in the morning, but he had more important business to take care of.
-X-
"Hey Dick, did you hear about what happened in Central City a few days ago?" a voice said over the speakers of Dick Grayson's phone. "About Hartley Rathaway causing that huge mess?"
"Oh, you mean Pied Piper?" Dick replied nonchalantly as he took a spoonful of cereal. Wearing only a pair of sweatpants, he had finished working out a few minutes prior, and was now cooling down. Perched on a kitchen chair, he balanced a bowl of cereal on his right thigh, a glass of apple juice on his left, and was reading from the newspaper for any signs of trouble.
"Pied Piper?" the voice asked.
"Yeah. Cisco told me that was his name."
"But it's Hartley Rathaway-"
"I dunno Barb. I like 'Pied Piper' better- it kinda suits him. I mean, 'Hartley Rathaway' just sounds so… underwhelming. But 'Pied Piper' just sounds really whelming. Do you know what I mean?"
"Unfortunately, I do," Barb laughed.
"Anyway, any news about Oliver Queen? Has he returned from his fight with Ra's yet?" Dick asked with a tone of concern in his voice.
"Not yet- he's still off the grid," Barb solemnly confirmed.
"Well, I sinceriously hope he gets back soon. Starling's falling to pieces without him, and I don't know if Roy Harper and the rest of the team will be enough to stop them from descending into madness again."
"Will you go and help them?" Barb inquired.
Dick thought about it for a minute, then answered, "I can't. Starling has enough heroes protecting it- it's their turf. I'm all Bludhaven's got, Barb."
"That's not true," Barb quickly interjected.
"What do you mean?" Dick asked, confused.
"Well, it's also got me. I'm here for you, Dick, and so is the rest of the Network. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, I do," Dick responded, smiling.
"Hey! There's that kid that calls himself 'Knightwing'!" a voice bellowed from outside Dick's apartment. Suddenly concerned, he set on the table his bowl of cereal and glass of juice, and quickly leapt towards the window to see the commotion. Outside, there was a large gang of thugs encircling a young man dressed in a green hoodie and camo cargo pants.
"Yeah, I'm Nite-Wing!" the teen cockily responded. "So what? You wussies going to take me on?"
Who is this kid? Dick thought to himself. And why is he using my name? Whoever he is, he's gonna get himself killed if they think he's me. I better do something.
"Everything alright, Dick?" Barb asked, worried.
"Yeah, everything's fine," Dick reassured her. "I just gotta go- duty calls. I'll talk to you later, alright?"
"Alright. Stay safe, former Boy Wonder."
"As long as you do, professor."
Ending the conversation, Dick quickly dashed to his room and suited up.
-X-
"You must think like you're some kind of invincible, Kick-Ass superhero, don't you punk?" a thug spat at Tad. "But my friends and I- we're gonna show you just what you really are: a punk-ass worthless piece of trash."
The words rang in Tad's head. His father's image came to mind. Wrath coursed through Tad's veins. "I'll make you eat those words. Through a straw!" Tad swore, rushing at the thug. Tad got the first punch in, but was quickly greeted by ten fists pummeling him from all sides. Suddenly, he was down, and feet trampled him as the bruises from his previous fight were compounded by these new bruises he was receiving. Blood came rushing up his throat, threatening to choke him. Pain unlike Tad had ever felt surged through his body, and yet Tad kept resisting. He got up and started trying to fight back, landing a few blows here and there. But the gang of thugs was too much for him, and down he went once more.
After a few more blows, one of the gang suggested, "Hey man, let's just kill the punk!"
"Good idea," the first thug agreed. Pulling a glock from behind his back, he aimed the gun right at Tad's temple in an executioner's style, as the other members backed off, not wanting any of the blood to fall on their clothes. Tad did nothing but stare right at the barrel of the gun. "I don't care that the cops didn't arrest you- I care that they'll know I killed that masked freak 'Knightwing.'"
"Somebody say my name?" a voice taunted from above them. A wing flew through the air and embedded itself in the thug's hand, forcing him to drop the glock. Suddenly, a dark figure dropped from the sky and broke his fall by landing on the thug who would've executed Tad. Facing the rest of the gang with a smile, he took out two eskrima sticks from his back, and proceeded to attack them. They had the numerical advantage, but the figure had the clear superiority in speed, agility, and martial prowess, bouncing from one thug to the next with grace and ferocity, taking them down before they could even react. It was like he was a character in a video game, racking up combo hits and evading any blows that would break his multiplier.
Tad saw all this and was amazed. In no time at all, the figure had taken down the entire gang of thugs. In awe, he asked, "Are you… Nightwing?"
"Yeah, I am," he responded. The smiling leaving his face, however, he asked, "Why'd you say you were me?"
"Please, let me help you!" Tad answered instead. "My name's Thaddeus Ryerstad- er, Tad. I've wanted to be a hero just like you. So please, let me join you!"
Nightwing looked straight into Tad's eyes. In them he could see a fire and a defiance.
So much like I was… back then, Dick thought to himself. Back at the beginning.
-The Past-
It had been weeks. Weeks since the accident. Weeks since the funeral. Weeks since Haly's Circus left town, leaving Dick at the Wayne Care Center. And still there were no answers about his parents' deaths. He couldn't just stand around, doing nothing- he had to take action.
And so at night, Dick left the Wayne Care Center. Walking about Gotham's streets, he tried to piece together what exactly happened that night. It took a while, but one by one, Dick began to find answers. Eventually, Dick got a name: Tony Zucco.
With something solid, he began to ask around the center and the neighborhood. Everyone wanted to avoid the name, like it was some unspeakable curse. But he wouldn't be denied, and eventually, he got an answer: a mob boss of Gotham.
Dick now knew what he was up against. He should report it to the GCPD and just let them take care of things. But he had too much rage and too much hate for Tony Zucco to just let the GCPD take care of him on their own. They were a corrupt force anyway- what good would they do? No, he had to do something. And that's when he got a visit.
Late one night, as Dick lay on his bed in the care center, the young teen sensed that someone was perched on his window- a window he swore was closed. Turning his head, he found a dark figure there. "You're going after Tony Zucco," the figure stated.
Standing up, Dick defiantly responded, "Yes, I am."
"That's a bad idea," the figure scolded. "Tony Zucco is one of the most powerful mob bosses in Gotham, with men armed to the teeth. You're a young teen with no combat experience. At all. You might be capable of doing a quadruple backflip, but that's not going to be enough to stop you from getting killed."
"But I… I've still got to do something!" Dick angrily retorted. "This man had my parents killed, and I don't even know why! Haven't you ever lost someone?"
The figure was silent for a time. Silently, he answered, "Yes."
"Then you know how it feels! So I need to stop him! If you don't like me going out there… then please help me."
Dick maintained his eye contact with the figure. He didn't know what went through the figure's mind- was it a yes? Or a no?
Eventually, the figure opened his mouth to speak.
-The Present-
"… Alright. I'll let you help me," Nightwing said to Tad.
Not believing the words that just came out of his hero's mouth, Tad beamed and yelled, "Yes! Thank you, Nightwing!"
"I'll contact you when it's time," Nightwing sternly commented.
"Time?" Tad asked.
"For training," Nightwing smiled. Thus said, he took something from his gauntlet and aimed at the sky. A hook shot out and, just like that, Nightwing had ascended into darkness.
Still beaming, Tad muttered to himself, "Finally! I'll get to be a real hero!" He began jogging towards his home, glorious thoughts running through his mind. One scene followed the next: chasing down bad guys, beating down criminals to death, putting an end to his father's abuse- permanently. All in a hero's work.
A/N: Hey everyone! BKA37 here! Looks like there might be some trouble brewing for Nightwing... does he know what he just got himself into? Find out in next week's episode! Please feel free to leave me some feedback, and I'll leave you with these two questions: 1) How was the length of this? Was it too long? Too short? Goldilocks right? Would you like it longer? Shorter? Or is this fine? and 2) Were you underwhelmed, overwhelmed, or just whelmed by this week's The Flash and Arrow? Are you hopoyful for next week's episodes?
Anyway, until next week, stay awesome, everyone!