Chapter Text
Hands wrapped around his neck, a heavy weight pulling him back.
The move was awkward, as though whoever it was hadn’t fought a day in their life.
Dick swung, his escrima stick digging deep into the attacker's crotch. He hadn’t aimed there, but he wasn’t complaining.
“Huh,” He hummed to himself, the silence filled with the groans and whines of criminals writhing on wet concrete. “You’d think a big guy like you would put up more of a fight.”
Dick wiped the blood and sweat that had gathered on his palms, sticking his favorite weapons back where they belonged.
This warehouse was one of the worst in Blüdhaven.
It was large, but had been weathered over the years. The smell of rot and mildew was heavy in the air.
As far as human trafficking bases go, Dick figured this would be anyone's absolute last choice.
Everyone always did enjoy proving him wrong.
He moved forward, something pulling in his shoulder and a sharp ache near his kidneys.
The only thing pushing him forward was the thought of bed.
Sirens in the background grew closer, a perpetual whine that pierced through the throbbing in his head.
His fingers shook slightly as he dug in his belt, pulling out a pack of zipties.
“Alright, up ya go.” He bent forward, propping the middle-aged man up against the concrete wall. He was muttering something, his hands still pressed tight over his pants.
Dick secured his catch easily, not bothering to decipher whatever it was the man was offering him to let him go. Money, probably.
He huffed, leaning his head back to look up at the dilapidated ceiling. The cops could do the rest.
It felt like dragging a corpse as he moved his legs toward his bike, the image of Greasy’s cheeseburgers fresh in his mind. The best way to end patrol was Greasy’s; it was just a fact.
And tonight? He’d earned it.
His bike purred underneath him as he peeled out into the road. He spared the place one last glance, biting down the churn that reminded him so vividly of Jason.
His brother was alive. Things were supposed to be good again.
But that just wasn’t the way the world worked. Especially Gotham.
In an impressive move, he’d made it almost all the way to downtown before his comm crackled at his side.
No one said anything.
The line was dead, as though he hadn’t been transferred in at all.
Street lights flickered, plunging the road into darkness before coming back on again. It had been so quick that Dick was afraid he’d imagined it. The bags under his eyes were heavy but not nearly as bad as they’d been before.
Something buzzed in the back of his mind, screamed that something was wrong. An instinct from a bygone era of his Robinhood, he thought.
“B, come in.” He tried, unease festering heavily in his stomach. The only response he received was static.
As he approached 84th, he knew what he had to do. He swung sharply into the alley, a move that would have Bruce glaring at him from across the cave if he saw. Even though Dick was a cool twenty-five, he still found something to nag him over.
The bike rolled to a stop as Dick shrugged his helmet off, silently mourning the idea of cheeseburgers. His comm crackled again, only static as he dismounted.
Girls half his age, young and older, stared at him as he made his way into the alley. Smoke rose from the group, melting into the low fog.
“Wing!” A voice shouted, and Dick couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. He’d grown close to the kid, sue him. The little alley cat was better off working for him instead of some gang, anyway.
Maybe child labor was just a Wayne family trait.
A few of the girls snorted as a blur of dirty blonde hair sped past. He barely slowed before running into Dick, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he looked excitedly up at his hero.
“Hey, champ. How ya doin’?” Dick ruffled his hair, pushing down on his head and letting the kid squirm away.
He always loved seeing Ant, but his eyes flickered towards the working girls. The kid wasn’t why he was here.
“Why don’t you go get that drawing you’ve been wanting to show me?” Dick suggested, watching as Ant nodded quickly. The kid darted off, climbing up the fire escape and back towards his window.
“How are you, bird?” Audrey called, a few of the girls smiling and laughing around her.
“You girls wouldn’t happen to have any intel for me tonight, would you?” He jerked his chin towards the street, the lights flickering on and off habitually.
He’d come to know them all pretty well. Nightwing wasn’t Batman, and Blüdhaven wasn’t Gotham. After Jason had come back, Dick had made a more concerted effort to keep the people of his city safe.
All of them.
He trusted their intel; they trusted him.
“Dunno,” Audrey shrugged, a stream of smoke following her words. “What’s in it for us?”
Dick leaned back, breaking into the bag strapped to his bike.
“Uh, protein bars and ten bucks?” He looked over at the group, offering the big pleading eyes he’d mastered in his youth.
Audrey rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips as she nodded.
He tossed the bars to them, depleting his granola supply in the name of vigilantism.
“Heard a john,” One girl, Mel, he thought, spoke up. “... sayin’ somethin’ ‘bout a blackout up in Gotham.”
Dick stiffened at the words, the instinctual worry tugging at every part of him.
Blackouts in Gotham rarely happened, but when they did?
It was never good.
Damian had just taken up the mantle of Robin and was still learning how to work with the other Bats.
With Bruce.
Not to mention the shared infrastructure between Gotham and Blüdhaven. If Gotham was down, his city was sure to follow.
A banging drew him from his thoughts, his head jerking up as he watched Ant clamber down and onto the lid of a dumpster. A piece of paper was clutched tight in his hands as he stumbled back, unbothered as he pushed through the group of girls.
His hand waved the paper, jumping as he pushed it into Dick’s face.
A small huff of laughter escaped him as he looked down, a portrait of himself drawn in black and blue.
Ant’s name signed in large letters at the bottom.
“Wow! You did that?” The boy beamed up at him, and Dick folded it into one of his pockets. “It’s going on my fridge.”
Ant laughed at the promise.
The static of his comm screeched through the noise of the alley, the girls looking worriedly over at him.
He kneeled, balancing on the balls of his feet as he got eye to eye with the kid.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where I could get a phone, would ya bud?”
—
Bruce would kill him if he ever found out.
The lights of the kitchen were yellow, peeling wallpaper, and old glue caked around the old landline.
Ant’s mom stood worriedly beside him, her son tucked protectively behind her back.
It was a landline. They would never have a reason to trace the call.
The tone rang, at least. A far cry from the endless static from his comm. A white long-haired cat brushed against his leg.
“Who is this?” A voice growled in his ear, and Dick felt a tension release in his stomach. He hated himself for it.
His hand ran through his hair, nearly brushing the low ceiling as he eyed Ant’s family off to the side. He was pretty limited here.
“Hey, B.” His voice cracked awkwardly as he twirled the cable around his finger. Had he ever used a landline? “My comm isn’t working. What the he-” The curse died in his throat as his eyes caught on Ant’s wide, adoring ones.
“What the heck is happening?” He whispered as loud as he could, turning from the family.
“Gotham’s down. Completely.” The growl responded, though the words were faster than usual. Rushed.
Dick’s heart kicked up a beat.
“You’re needed.” His teeth clicked together as the phone clicked, the call over.
“Well, doesn’t that make me feel all warm and fuzzy?” He hissed quietly at the receiver, resisting the urge to bash his head into the phone. “Could’ve at least said goodbye.” He huffed, hanging it back on the wall.
“Are you going to help Batman?” Ant pushed past his mom, standing right beside Dick as he bounced in place.
“Part of the job description.” Dick smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
This was going to be a long night.