Dodge, roll, flip, repeat.

The bullets flew past Dick, some missing by nought but a few centimetres as he encroached upon the low-level thug who'd attempted to mug a woman passing by. Needless to say, he hadn't succeeded.

Dick, suited up in his Nightwing garb, took the guy out with ease and trussed him up to be collected by the police. After leaving behind a note describing the man's offences, he removed his grapple gun from its pouch on his belt and swung back to his apartment.

It was dark, cold and empty when he arrived—one of the downsides of living alone. Dick sighed tiredly and peeled off his suit before taking a warm shower. He knew there wouldn't be time for it before work in the morning. Then, having put on a fresh set of pyjamas, he climbed into bed and slept for five blissful hours.

He awoke the following morning to the sound of his alarm going off. Stretching exuberantly, he got up and dressed in his uniform before heading to his small kitchen to prepare some breakfast, which he ate while watching the news. None of his previous night's exploits were mentioned, which he considered a triumph. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself.

Although Bludhaven didn't have quite the same dark reputation as Gotham, it still had its fair share of underground activity. As such, he was kept busy most nights dealing with one criminal or another. His day job as a lieutenant in the B.P.D. also helped make a dent in the city's crime rates — even if not such a major one. There were limits to the law, after all.

Work that day was, unusually, quite uneventful. Dick spent the majority of his shift filing reports on previous cases.

As soon as his shift was over, he ambled home and quickly changed into his Nightwing suit, removing his motorbike from his hidden base in a nearby alleyway and speeding through the streets. The freedom he felt while on patrol was one of the best he'd ever experienced and Dick knew he wouldn't give it up for anything.

That night too, was suspiciously quiet, with the number of scuffles he was involved in falling well below average. Dick wondered what had caused the bizarre drop in crime and he soon found out.

He was about halfway along his route to collect his bike from where he'd stashed it while on patrol when he felt the familiar presence of someone following him.

Stopping abruptly on a—seemingly—abandoned rooftop, he narrowed his eyes, looking around carefully in search of his tail. Finally, he spotted some movement in the shadows beside a nearby fire escape and pounced on the suspect. They landed roughly on the concrete beneath them in a flurry of limbs and curses. The darkness of the night didn't allow for identification, so Dick struggled to get a good look at his assailant before he was suddenly dragged backwards by two strong figures from behind. He fought loose and turned to face his aggressors only to stop, stunned, when he came face-to-face with none other than the Young Justice Team.

"I'm beginning to feel sorry for the criminals you apprehend," the familiar-yet-different voice of none other than Wallace West muttered as he picked himself up off the ground while rubbing his already-swelling jaw, "If I weren't a meta, I'd be out like a light with punches like those."

"Well, maybe that's the point," Dick growled, agitated, as glared at the group surrounding him, "What are you doing in my city?"

Wally, again, opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Kaldur, who stepped forward placatingly.

"We were sent by the Justice League," he explained, "They'd like to offer you a provisionary position, to become permanent after a trial period."

Dick arched an eyebrow in surprise, "What is this? A Spotify subscription?"

Artemis snorted but quickly covered it with a cough. Conner glared at him, seemingly unimpressed by his attempt at humour. Kaldur settled with a disapproving frown.

Internally Dick was surprised. He'd gone to the utmost effort to deflect attention away from himself, but it seemed the League had ears and eyes everywhere. What truly shocked him was that they were offering him, of all people, a membership position. They surely couldn't know his true identity — or age, for that matter — or the offer never would've been made. Bruce would've instead hunted him down and given him an earful before dragging him back to Gotham. No, they certainly didn't know who he was.

"It is a genuine offer," Kaldur stated, seemingly affronted by the vigilante's blasé attitude, "and a great honour to even be considered."

Dick thought through his options, studying his old teammates carefully. Up until now, he'd operated mostly in the shadows, unknown by the general public. If he were to join the League, the whole world would know who he was, which was, ultimately, more of a hindrance than a help. Plus there was another factor to consider…

"Why me?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, "Why not one of you? Why not someone they've worked with previously? Why, out of all the unaffiliated heroes out there, did they choose me?"

The Team appeared taken aback by his questioning. Wally, however, appeared to be thinking deeply. Dick knew that his old friend wasn't the dunce he tended to portray himself as. He was, in fact, highly intelligent, but acted like a dolt to throw people off and disarm them. Dick believed it to be a defence mechanism developed during a rough childhood, but it had always worked effectively, outwitting most criminals. The fact that Wally had turned his calculating gaze on Dick, however, made him rather uncomfortable. Although they hadn't seen each other in seven years, there was still the chance he could be recognised, particularly by the one person who had known him best.

"I overheard a conversation between Superman and Batman a few weeks ago, although I couldn't understand what it was about at the time. Looking back, I think it must've been about you. Batman was trying to convince Superman that they should give you a trial. Batman seemed quite impressed with you."

Dick was taken aback by this. Bruce was impressed with him? Dick didn't know that he could even be impressed with anyone but, well, he hadn't seen his adoptive father in seven years. Maybe he had changed?

He quickly dismissed the idea. The day Bruce changed would be the day pigs flew - that was never going to happen. The matter at hand was more important.

Dick narrowed his eyes and studied the team for a moment longer, before making his announcement.

"I'll need some time to think about it. Would it be alright to meet with you again here tomorrow to let you know?"

The team seemed to be consulting amongst themselves before Kaldur nodded.

"Of course."

"Alright then, see you tomorrow," and Dick took off into the night.

He took a more convoluted route home that night once he'd picked up his bike to ensure that he wasn't being followed, but it proved unnecessary. He arrived back at his apartment unmolested and was soon settled into bed for what turned out to be a disturbed sleep.