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Winter was a time for miracles. Even in a crap-sack town like Gotham.
Gentle snowfall, festive lights…
Except the snow had long since turned into icky, brown-ish mush, turning every surface into an icy death-trap and the blindingly bright lights were only augmenting the fatality of setting a single foot outside.
Nightwing was grumbling to himself as he hurried across the rooftops, thankful that it had finally stopped snowing. A minor Arkham breakout in the middle of winter really hadn’t been on his wishlist for good ol’ Santa Claus. At least the Joker hadn’t gotten out this time. Small mercies.
Soon, his destination came into view – Batman, Robin, Red Hood and Red Robin were waiting for him on top of one of Gotham's many skyscrapers. They had to make plans for the rest of the night, who would hunt which remaining inmate, who’d trail the goons… The usual stuff.
Landing with a muted thud on the desired rooftop, Nightwing made his way over to the others waiting for him.
“You’re late”, Red Hood growled at him from where they were huddled together, pouring over a holographic map of the city generated by the computer installed in Red Robin’s gauntlet. Robin clicked his tongue.
“I know, I know, sorry”, Nightwing said, breathing a little harder due to the cold and the exertion, “came across a – whoa!”
None of them would ever learn what exactly Nightwing had come across, for the unbelievable, unthinkable happened.
Richard “Dick” John Grayson, first son of multi-billionaire Bruce Wayne.
The last of the Flying Graysons, acrobats extraordinaire.
Nightwing, protector of Blüdhaven who cartwheeled in circles around his enemies.
He slipped.
Nightwing reached out reflexively, holding onto the next best thing in an attempt to regain his balance. But as luck would have it, that happened to be Red Robin who was neither tall nor strong enough to stay upright with the sudden additional weight, causing him to yelp and tumble sideways on the slippery ground.
Right into Robin, who shouted something unintelligible when his least favourite brother crashed into him, and he flailed, redirecting both their bodies to slam right into Red Hood, causing him to grunt. And not even Jason, with all his considerable height and muscles worthy of a brick wall, could keep all four of them from falling to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs.
For a moment, no one uttered a single word and only what little of Gotham’s nightlife made it up to the roof of this thirty-four stories building could be heard. Then –
“Well done, Nightwing –”
“I’m sorry, I slipped!”
“It happens – ow!”
“I think that was me –”
“Whose elbow is that?!”
“Stop moving, Robin, you – HAIRHAIRHAIR OW!”
“If you smack me one more time, princess –”
“I’m so sorry, Red, I –”
“Remove that knee at once, Hood!”
“Robin, wait, you’re –”
“You and your fucking wings –”
“Stop pulling at them, you’re only making it worse –”
“Hurk – elbow – gut – please move –”
“Ouch!”
“I think that was mine, sorry, Nightwing!”
“If you do not stop molesting me –”
“Wait, that’s your butt? Whoops.”
“As if anyone would ever – ack!”
“Please don’t move that knee –"
“Hood, I think you’re strangling –”
“That’s not me!”
“Stop kicking!”
“Nightwing, get off me immediately!”
And Batman?
Batman just stood there, staring down at the flailing, shoving and growling pile of Robins, current and former. He remembered all those years, decades of training, of steeling his soul, his body, his mind and everything in between. He remembered the solitude in the mountains, in the forests. The gruesome training he’d subjected himself to, time and time again… But it was no use.
Batman face-palmed.