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The crisp night air whipped across Robin’s face as he and Nightwing ran from rooftop to rooftop. Heads turned in their direction as they passed the sleep deprived civilians below them, and now and again the two would hear a horn honk to try and grab their attention (now and again Nightwing would offer a wave).
“What do you think Gordon has for us this time?” asked Robin as he used his grapple gun to help hoist himself onto an exceptionally tall building. The batsignal shining onto the clouds growing closer and closer. “The Joker? Two Face?”
“And how would I know that?” asked Nightwing, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Robin rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe you or Pennyworth picked up on some radio chatter before we left.”
Nightwing shook his head as he came to a gradual stop, Robin mimicking his actions soon after. “No, neither of us picked up on anything. Anyways,” started Nightwing, looking down at the building in front of him, “there’s the commissioner. You ready for our dramatic entrance?”
Robin rolled his eyes and leapt over to the next rooftop, ignoring Nightwing’s request for him to “wait up”. Robin softly landed behind Gordon who had his hand hovering over the batsignal’s off button.
Gordon let out a sigh of relief. “Batman, took you long e-”
“Sorry commiss,” started Nightwing (who had joined Robin on the roof seconds after he had landed), “afraid B’s out of town. It’ll just be Robin and I for tonight.”
Gordon thought over Nightwing’s words for a moment. “League business?” he asked as he shuffled through his overcoat.
“In a sense.”
Robin did his best to hold back a snort. His father was with the league, but it was for a mere night out (“Good team building,” Kent had said, and was quickly backed up by Allen).
“Now,” started Nightwing, clapping his hands together, “what do you have for us?”
“I need you to help apprehend some gang members participating in what might be some techno black market,” said Gordon, pulling a file from an inner coat pocket and handing it to Nightwing. “Nothing too exciting, but we could use your help in finding them.”
“Techno black market?” repeated Robin, unamused.
“Pieces of technology and classified information have been stolen from Star labs and Lex corp, all originating from Gotham,” explained Gordon. “We’ve managed to bust one of their deals, but we can’t seem to find the main group.”
Nightwing notched an eyebrow as he read the file over. “These are all the places you think they’re hiding out in?”
Gordon nodded. “We’ve searched each of them, but we can’t seem to find anything. But maybe there are some clues that we’ve missed that the proteges of the world’s greatest detective can dig up.”
Nightwing let out a thoughtful hum and snapped the file shut. “We’ll get right on it. Come on, Robin,” said Nightwing, strolling towards the roof’s ledge and jumped off. The two watched with disinterest as Nightwing quickly drew his grapple and pulled himself onto the next roof over. Robin gave Gordon a brief nod before bolting after his brother.
“Which destination will we be heading to first?” called Robin, trailing a fair distance behind Nightwing.
“In the file, there were three main buildings the police were keeping an eye on. Some abandoned theatre, an abandoned office building, and a warehouse.” Nightwing paused his explanation to chuckle. “These guys are obviously very original.”
“As most thugs are.”
A chuckle left Nightwing. “We’ll search the office building first since it’s closest.” Robin gave a nod of acknowledgment.
After what couldn’t have been more than a few more seconds of trailing behind, Robin managed to catch up to Nightwing. “Should be an easy night,” said Nightwing as the two jumped from building to building. “Before we left, Agent A said he’d make cookies and hot chocolate for us when we get back.”
Robin snorted. “Please, Grayson-”
“No names on the field.”
“-what makes you think I’d be excited for Agent A’s cookies?”
“I caught you sneaking them into your room at three in the morning two nights ago.”
“You have no proof I did any such thing.”
Nightwing let out an amused snort. “I’m sure I’ll find something to use against you. I am a detective.”
“Don’t act so smug, Nightwing,” said Robin, rolling his eyes. “We’re all detectives.”
“But I have more experience.”
“Red Robin has much less experience than you do, but he’s a much better detective. Alongside that, I have much less experience in hand to hand combat, yet I could beat you any day.”
Nightwing let out a playful scoff. “And why do you think that?”
“I was trained by the best assassins known to man,” explained Robin.
“I can’t believe you’re downplaying B and my own fighting skills,” said Nightwing with a laugh.
Robin felt his cheeks heat up. “The two of you are excellent at fighting, you just never had to train with any well trained assassins like I did.”
Nightwing remained silent for a moment, and a feeling of dread fell over Robin. Had he said something wrong? He had just undermined Nightwing’s fighting skills. Shoot, he was just teasing Nightwing (in his own way), he didn’t mean to make him upset-
“Did you compliment Tim earlier?”
Robin stumbled as he landed on the next roof over, his cheeks heating up once more. “No names on the field,” said Robin quickly.
A thoughtful hum came from Nightwing. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“He’ll never believe you.”
Nightwing chuckled. “I know, I know.”
They continued onto their destination in comfortable silence, both of them casting quick glances at one another to make sure neither fell behind again. Once the two had reached the supposed hideout, Robin looked the building over.
It looked as if somebody had taken a stick and beat it a couple dozen times, yet it looked sturdy enough to act as a shelter. The building’s two floors looked atrocious from where Robin stood.
Nightwing peaked into the building through one of its many windows (which was covered in spiderweb like cracks). “Let’s treat this like any other low level thug infiltration.”
Robin nodded. “Go in, defeat the grunts, take them all into custody, then continue on with patrol?”
“Right,” said Nightwing with a nod. “You ready?”
“When am I never?”
A smile crept onto Nightwing's face. “Alright, let’s go.”
Without so much of an acknowledging grunt from Robin, the duo jumped into the building. The two snuck down the hall, gazes flitting over every door and ears straining to hear voices.
“This place definitely isn’t abandoned,” said Nightwing, peeking through a window and eyeing some LEDs that shone as if they were brand new. “See anyone?”
“No, which is strange,” muttered Robin, looking away from Nightwing and through a window on the other side of the hall. “Where could they…” Robin felt the words die in his throat as he spotted a figure within the dark room before him. He couldn’t take note of many defining features, but Robin did notice the two pole shaped objects that he could only assume were handles. Low grumbles made themselves known to Robin’s ears.
“Robin,” started Nightwing, quietly walking over to him. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s somebody in there,” whispered Robin as he squinted at the figure, doing his best to get a better look at them. “I think they’re… On the phone with someone, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I also believe they’re armed with swords.”
Nightwing gave a quick nod. “Right. We should be careful then. We should- Quick duck!” he hissed, tugging Robin down below the window pane.
A snide remark bubbled at Robin’s lips, but quickly faded away as the figure shifted, turned, and faced the window. The light from the figure’s phone managed to light up a small portion of the figure's face, which (including his eye) seemed to be covered by black fabric. Narrowing his eyes, Robin tried to figure out why so much of this figures face seemed to be covered by-
There was a flash of orange.
Shit.
He could hear Nightwing’s breath hitch in his throat as he seemingly came to the same conclusion Robin had.
The grumbles from the room came to a slow stop as the figure brought his phone away from him, and let it properly illuminate his (masked) face.
“Deathstroke,” hissed Nightwing, his eyes narrowing beneath his mask. “What’s he doing here?”
Robin frowned. “How should I know? He-”
“Get down!” exclaimed Nightwing, harshly tugging Robin to the ground as the sound of gunshots rang through the air and shattered glass rained down on them. Robin’s ears rang as the bullets came to a sudden stop. He released a breath and looked up at Nightwing who had a grim look on his face.
“Come on, show yourself,” called Wilson from the other room. “I know you’re there.”
Robin’s lips thinned into a line as Nightwing remained silent for a moment. “Alright,” he mumbled, shifting off of Robin. Slowly, Nightwing brought himself up and raised his arms above his head, his masked eyes glaring at Wilson. Robin followed his lead soon after.
“Nightwing and Robin,” said Wilson, a dark tone in his voice. “So good to see the two of you.”
“What are you doing here, Wilson?” hissed Robin, baring his teeth like an animal. His gloved hands reaching for his staff, completely prepared to jump into action at a moment's notice.
“Relax,” said Wildon, raising his hands in the air. “I’m not here to fight you.”
“You attacked us,” growled Nightwing, sending a glare Wilson’s way.
“I thought a member of the gang was watching me, I was acting in self defense,” he clarified, narrowing his eye at the two.
“So you shot at us?” hissed Nightwing.
“What else would I have done?”
“What if the actual gang heard you?”
“Then it’d make my job go a lot quicker,” said Wilson, swiftly placing his gun back into its holster.
“Your job…” mumbled Nightwing. Robin felt his face harden as he and Nightwing fell back into fighting stances. “We won’t let you kill anybody, Slade,” hissed Nightwing, his face dark.
Wilson waved them off. “Don’t freak out so much, the bounty requests for my target to be alive.” A look of amusement flashed in Wilson’s eye. “But I find it adorable how you think you can prevent me from a goal, Grayson.” Robin couldn’t quite catch what Nightwing said under his breath, but he assumed it was a string of curses. “Now, since the two of you are here I suppose you could be put to use.”
“What exactly are you trying to say?” asked Nightwing, puffing his chest out in a pitiful attempt to appear threatening.
“I’m saying,” started Wilson, crossing his arms and raising his chin, “we should work together on this.”
“No,” hissed Nightwing, taking a step towards Wilson. “We’re not going to work together.”
“Come now, Nightwing .” Wilson practically spat Nightwing’s name. “I’m assuming we all have similar goals. The three of us might as well work together.”
Wrinkling his nose Nightwing angled his head towards Robin, asking for his input. The teen looked between the two, the hostility between them was apparent in the room’s atmosphere and Robin took a moment to wonder if that very thing would be a detriment to their mission.
“We’re just apprehending some criminals,” hissed Nightwing, after Robin gave a minuscule shrug of his shoulders, “we can handle it on our own.”
Wilson rolled his eye as he stepped towards the two. “Criminals who have supposedly been able to avoid capture. How would Batman feel if he found out it took you this long to find their little leader?”
“I feel like he’d feel worse if he found out I had to work with you .”
“Well that’s just rude,” commented Wilson, almost looking uninterested. “But, if you think about it, I’m going the same way anyway. Might as well keep an eye on me, hm?”
A low frustrated growl escaped Nightwing as he ran a hand over his face. “I… Fine!” he grumbled. “We’ll work together.”
“Good to know that we’ve come to an agreement,” said Wilson, finally leaving the room before them and joining the vigilantes in the hallway. “Now, we better get going if we want to get the job done before Robin’s bedtime.” Robin bit back a remark as a pained sigh left Nightwing as the three began to trudge down the halls.
Robin felt Nightwing lean towards him as they walked down the hall, a sense of protectiveness radiating from his brother. For as long as Robin had known Nightwing, his brother had stayed quiet about his relationship with Wilson, but it was fairly obvious that their past was complicated. If Robin hadn’t known that before, the disgust in his brother’s voice (that barely ever made itself known even to the Joker) when speaking to Wilson would have made it clear that something was wrong.
“How long have you been searching the place?” asked Nightwing, his voice slicing through the tense silence as if it were a blade.
“Not long,” said Wilson, inspecting the walls around them with mild interest. “I believe I got here ten minutes before running into the two of you.”
“And you haven’t found anything?”
Wilson gave Nightwing an unimpressed look. “What do you think?” Nightwing returned Wilson’s gaze for a moment, the air between them filled with hostility.
“Yeah, alright,” grumbled Nightwing, turning his gaze towards the hall in front of him.
Robin frowned at the obvious tension amongst the two. Of course, it wasn’t too out of place for a vigilante and a mercenary to not be on excellent terms with one another, but to the degree these two were at?
It almost felt… Personal.
“This way,” muttered Nightwing, snapping Robin out of his thoughts as he quickly dodged out of the hallway and into a room.
“I’ve already checked in there,” stated Wilson, moving forward. “It’s empty.”
An audible groan escaped Nightwing as he stalked back into the hallway. “Yeah, I could tell.” The three prepared to move on but stilled as footsteps sounded from around the corner.
“I think the gunshots came from this way!”
Nightwing groaned and made a move for his escrima sticks. “Of course they heard your stupid gun.”
Wilson rolled his eye. “Look at it this way, now that we have their attention we can easily find their boss.”
The sound of footsteps hitting the ground drew closer and closer until the group came face to face with a large group of ragged thugs. Curses and yells escaped the group as they stumbled over their feet at the sight of the mercenary and vigilantes.
Nightwing let out a sigh. “Alright, there’s no need to fi-” He was promptly met with a fearful cry from one of the thugs as the group threw themselves at their intruders. “But we’re going to fight anyways,” he sighed, quickly raising his arm and blocking a sloppy kick aimed at his face.
Robin jumped into battle, gaze hardened but not entirely giving it his all as he knocked through the many thugs with ease. Each easily fell, as the thugs groaned in pain at Robin’s feet he took that moment to cast a glance over at Nightwing and Wilson, ready to jump in and help at any given moment.
Robin felt his jaw drop open at what he saw before him.
The two were almost… In sync. Nightwing and Wilson jumped around each other, each slinging attacks at their opponents in fluid movements. Every now and again they’d block a hit aimed at the other, and swiftly knock the gang member out.
The way they moved around each other, it almost seemed like they’d done this before.
Of course, Robin wouldn't be surprised if they had worked together at least once or twice. It wasn’t uncommon for even Justice League members to have a short team up with somebody like Wilson (it had happened more times than Robin could count if he was being honest). Wilson had been a rather prominent criminal during Nightwing’s time with the Titans (hell, it was still common for the Titans to run into him), and Robin wouldn’t be surprised if they had agreed to work with Slade at some point or the other.
“Well,” huffed Wilson, snapping Robin out of his thoughts. “Now that these idiots are taken care of.” Wilson strolled over to one of the prone thugs and kneeled before him. “Now,” Wilson placed the tip of his sword onto the thug's throat, a hint of boredom in his eyes. “why don’t you tell us where your boss-”
“He’s a few halls down. Three rights, a left, and another right. The door’s hidden behind a cloaking system we usually put up so we can ensure nobody will find us.”
That explains how they simply disappear from the police’s radar.
Wilson drew his sword back. “That was boring,” he commented, returning his sword to its sheath. “We should probably find their boss before he gets any bright ideas. Come now, Nightwing… Robin.”
Nightwing visibly bristled at Wilson’s words. “Right. Come on, Robin,” he grumbled, his jaw clenched as he stormed down the hall.
“Wait,” called Robin as he ran after Nightwing, vaguely aware of Wilson following. “Nightwing!”
A snort of laughter sounded from Wilson as they caught up to Nightwing. “Such a short temper, Nightwing. You should work on keeping your emotions in check,” he said, smugness evident in his voice. “You never know when somebody could take advantage-“
“Do you ever shut up?” asked Nightwing, sending a glare Wilson’s way.
An amused look flashed in Wilson’s eyes. “Most of the time, yes. It’s just so much fun to get under your skin, Grayson.” Without another word, Wilson began making his way down the hallway once more.
Robin looked up at Nightwing who’s eyes were narrowed behind his mask. Nightwing’s jaw was tense as he got back up, probably making a move to follow Wilson if Robin hadn’t shot his hand out and grabbed onto his brother’s wrist.
“Grayson, you need to calm down ,” hissed Robin. “You can’t let Wilson get to you like this.”
Grayson practically growled. “Damian, I am calm.”
Damian let his grip tighten around Grayson’s wrist. “I’ve seen you when you’re calm, and this?” Damian motioned up and down Grayson’s body, taking notice of how tense he seemed. “This isn’t calm.” Grayson’s nose wrinkled at Damian’s observation, and let his shoulders slacken the slightest bit.
“Richard relax,” said Damian as he angled Richard towards him. “Wilson has no reason to hurt either of us. This is just a temporary partnership that suites both our parties. We’re going to be fine.”
“Yeah,” started Richard, looking everywhere but at Damian, “fine.”
Damian sighed as he let go of Nightwing’s wrist. “Alright, let’s go,” he said, giving Nightwing a strained smile. All he received was a brief nod.
The two searched the hallway before them, searching for their temporary partner. “Geeze, I didn’t realize Slade could walk so quickly,” commented Nightwing with a frown.
“Or maybe we spent more time back there than we originally thought.”
A sigh left Nightwing. “I’m sorry about that,” he mumbled as he casted his gaze downward. “I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up.”
Robin let out a sigh. “You don’t need to apologize. Just try not to let Wilson get to you so much.”
A strained chuckle escaped Nightwing’s lips. “I’ll try Damian. Now let's catch up to that asshat before he kills somebody.”
The two didn’t need to spend much more time searching, as Wilson came into view two rooms over. “It’s about time you caught up,” commented Wilson, not sparing a glance towards the two. “Care to explain what you were grovelling about, Grayson?”
“No, I don’t,” said Nightwing with a frown. “Care to explain why you just kept walking?”
“Didn’t want to waste any time waiting on the two of you.”
Nightwing opened his mouth, seemingly to make a remark before he snapped it shut and casted a glance towards Robin. “Whatever you say, Slade,” he mumbled.
The group trudged on through the halls in silence, none of them bothering to even start up small talk. (Which was most likely for the best, taking how easily Wilson could set Nightwing off, and Robin didn’t think they needed any more distractions.)
“Stupid, Idiotic, worthless pieces of-”
“Boss, your voice!”
Mere minutes had passed before yells sounded from down the hall. Without even sparing a glance at one another the three sprinted down the hallway, looks of determination plastered onto their faces. As they neared a closed off room at the end of the hall the three ducked down. “If this room is like the others,” Slade had said, “it’s going to have windows. And I’d prefer to not be spotted today.”
The three pressed up against the wall and hoped to the gods that they wouldn’t be spotted before they were ready. The group within had reduced their conversation to a whisper
Nightwing shifted through his belt for a moment and took out a communicator. “I’ll send a signal to the commissioner so he knows where to find us.” This earned an approving nod and a disinterested look.
Looking away from his brother, Robin turned towards the hidden room and strained his ears. “Of course now is when they keep their voices down,” grumbled Robin, shifting to place his ear on the wall. As he moved the side of his face in, the three watched as a portion of the wall fizzled out of existence upon contact to reveal a window.
“There they are,” whispered Nightwing, peaking through the window. The group before them seemed on edge but hadn’t seemed to notice Robin quickly ducking below the window pane... Few fiddled with their handheld weapons, while others paced. Each member of the gang sported a worried look on their face as one member (supposedly their leader) barked insults in their faces.
“What’s the plan?” asked Robin, looking over at his brother.
Nightwing’s brow furrowed. “The only thing we can really do is jump in there and try to get them to surrend-”
The two jumped at the sound of a door being busted down. Both looked up at Wilson with wide eyes as he sent the two a bored glance. “What? We were going to break in anyway.”
“You didn’t need to bust the door down!” hissed Nightwing. Wilson merely rolled his eyes in response.
“You!” exclaimed one of the thugs, drawing the group’s attention back to their targets. “You’re Deathstroke!”
“I’m glad you’ve noticed.”
“Alright,” started Nightwing, stepping into the opposing group’s line of sight. “You’re all under arrest for theft, leaking classified information-”
“Cut the crap, Birdbrain,” growled . “We’re not going anywhere.
“Look, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”
The leader merely nodded towards his gang and brought a hand up, his subordinates pulling pistols and knives out in quick succession.
“Alright, guess we’re doing this the hard way,” grumbled Nightwing, pulling out his escrima sticks. “Remember, Deathstroke. No. Killing.”
Wilson rolled his eye. “I already said I wouldn’t.”
A grunt of acknowledgement escaped Nightwing as he prepared to block the slow and sloppy attack of an oncoming gang member. Robin didn’t get a chance to assist his brother before multiple different gang members lunged at himself and Wilson, each swinging their knives around as if they had never held them before.
Gunshots rang out as the members who had stayed behind opened fire on the three before them. “Not a smart idea,” remarked Wilson, as a grunt yelped in pain after getting caught in the crossfire. “You could hit your own.”
“It's almost as if they’ve never been in a fight before,” mumbled Robin, dodging a swing to his head and kicking his opponent away.
“Yes, their fighting skills are…” Wilson slammed the handle of his gun into his opponent’s head. “Lackluster.”
“More into tech than you are fighting, huh?” asked Nightwing, effortlessly weaving past swings of a knife.
The grunts around them let out noises of anger before Robin’s opponent went to jab a knife into him. Without much thought, Robin swerved out of the way, grabbed onto the grunt’s wrist, and flipped them onto the floor. A pained gasp escaped the grunt, and Robin sent a glare his way.
“Stay down,” he hissed, earning a whimper in return as Robin looked around. The majority of their opponents lay on the ground, seemingly (read ‘hopefully’. Wilson could have easily gone too far) unconscious.
“Alright,” grumbled Robin, turning to face the man in charge. “It’s time to turn yourself in.” A defeated grumble escaped the man before him and a glare was sent Robin’s way, but *Insert name* their leader didn’t make any move to retaliate.
“Good job, Robin,” said Nightwing from the center of the room. Robin looked back towards his brother and swelled with pride at the approving smile plastered on Nightwing’s face. The pride was soon replaced with unease as Deathstroke sheathed his sword and examined Robin.
“You know, Robin,” started Wilson, drawing the older vigilante’s attention over to himself, “your fighting style is quite impressive. You have a background in assassination correct-“
In the blink of an eye, Nightwing had lunged at Wilson. The next few seconds of fighting flew by in a blur as sparking escrima sticks pounded against metal armour. Robin watched in shock as Nightwing sent blow after blow at Wilson, not slowing down in the slightest as he backed the mercenary into a wall.
“Now, Grayson,” started Wilson, bringing an arm up to block an oncoming escrima stick, “you really should start keeping your emotions in-”
“I do keep them in check!” he hissed, sending a kick to Wilson’s stomach and forcing the mercenary across the little space between himself and the wall that was left.
“Do you now?” he asked, wrapping a tentative arm around his stomach and pushing himself off the wall behind him. “Because it doesn’t seem like it. Perhaps you should be more like your brother and-” Letting out an angry growl, Nightwing cut Wilson off by roughly shoving him back onto the wall and raised his weapon.
“Grayson,” started Robin, taking a step forward. “You need to calm down-”
“Stay away from Damian,” hissed Nightwing, supposedly not hearing Robin (but he wouldn’t be surprised if Nightwing had just ignored him). His escrima sticks inched closer and closer to Wilson’s face. “If you even think about manipulating him I’ll end you .”
Amusement flashed in Wilson’s eye. “Grayson, I learned the first time around how well taking a Robin in goes, do you truly think I’d try again?”
Robin narrowed his eyes. “What does he mean?”
An animalistic growl escaped Nightwing as Wilson let out a mocking coo. “Did you never tell your little brother that your past isn’t as squeaky clean as you’d like him to believe?”
“ Shut up .”
“What? Do you not want him to know about the time you fatally wounded somebody? About the time you k-“ a strangled gasp escaped Wilson as Nightwing sent a (non sparking) escrima stick to the side of Wilson’s head.
“I told you to shut up ,” hissed Nightwing, his voice wavering.
Chuckling, Wilson stared at Nightwing. “What? Too ashamed to face your past, Renegade?”
Nightwing froze, and from where Robin stood, he could see the colour drain from his brother’s face.
“What’s wrong, Renegade? You’re looking rather pale.”
“Shut up.” Robin cringed at how shaky Nightwing’s voice was.
Wilson scoffed. “Now, I think you’ve given me enough attitude for today.”
“Stop talking!”
Robin’s eyebrows furrowed as he took a step towards the two. “Nightwing, you need to calm down.”
“Yes, I agree with Robin on this. I could’ve sworn I taught you how to control your anger better than this. Did you really take nothing out of your apprenticeship?”
Nightwing stiffened and Robin gaped.
“Nighting?” whispered Robin, taking a small step forward. “What is he talking about?” His brother turned to him, arms slacking as the two faced each other. Grayson’s face was as pale as a sheet, and his grip on his escrima sticks slackened. Seemingly noticing Grayson’s loosened grip, Wilson acted.
In the blink of an eye, Wilson connected his elbow with Nightwing’s chest. As the vigilante let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden contact, Wilson brought his leg up and kicked him away.
“Well, this has been exciting,” said Wilson, looming over the now winded Nightwing. “But I believe I have a bounty to-”
The three froze at the sound of blaring sirens heading towards the building. Robin met Wilson’s eye and shifted his position to stand over *Insert name*. He slowly retrieved some birdarangs from his belt and got into a defensive stance.
Wilson let out a sigh. “Another day then.”
He was gone within a blink of an eye.
“We should go too,” said Nightwing, his voice wavering.
Robin’s lips turned into a thin line. “But the commissioner-”
“Can handle it from here,” reassured Nightwing, heading towards a window the overlooked the city. “Now come on, we have a patrol to finish.”
Patrol hadn’t lasted much longer after they had left the building. Instead of wasting what little energy they had left, the two sat upon a rooftop in silence, the only sound in the air being the cars racing down the street below.
He felt… Unnerved.
Unnerved at how Grayson had trained to kill at a certain point in time. What had brought him to that? What had brought him to Deathstroke , somebody he obviously hated? (Or maybe he hadn’t hated him at the time.) Damian felt his lips thin into a line as he casted his gaze over to Grayson whose face looked slacked and unnaturally pale.
“Do you… Want to talk about it?” asked Damian, worry pooling in his gut.
Grayson hummed. “About what exactly?”
“You know what.”
“Just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Damian stayed silent for a moment.
“Do you want to talk about Renegade?”
A sigh escaped Grayson as he looked up at the murky sky. “Renegade was… A mistake I made back when I was Robin.”
“And this mistake… I’m taking a wild guess and assuming it concerned Deathstroke?” All Grayson did was give a slow nod. “And you… Worked under him?”
Grayson rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly contemplating how to respond. “He was my mentor for a short time.” If Grayson noticed the way Damian’s eyes widened in shock he didn’t show it. “He… Taught me things. How to fight like him, how to fight with a knife, how to properly aim a gun… How to kill people.”
A beat of silence followed Grayson’s revelation as Damian began to process what he had just admitted to. “Have you… Did you…”
“Killed before?” asked Grayson, turning to look away from Damian. “Unfortunately yes.”
“You’ve… Killed people,” repeated Damian, staring up at Grayson in shock.
“One person,” he clarified. “I’ve only killed one person. I’m… Not proud of it.”
“I’d be concerned if you were.”
The strained silence returned as the two sat on the roof, Grayson probably wallowing in shame and guilt, while Damian running through different ways he could possibly comfort his brother. “Grayson, it’d be hypocritical of me to judge you for your brief apprenticeship with Wilson,” said Damian, letting his lips form into a thin line as he thought of what to say next. “What’s done is done, and what matters is you regret killing them. You regret ever working with Deathstroke.” All Grayson could do in response was nod. “All you can do is look forward and not let Wilson’s taunts get to you.”
A sigh escaped Grayson. “That’s easier said than done, Damian. But-but I’ll try.”
Another (less strained silence) fell over them for a moment. “If it counts for anything,” started Grayson, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t… I didn’t do it by choice.”
Damian felt his lips tug into a frown. “What do you mean?”
“I was… Blackmailed.”
“You were what ?”
“Slade used the Titans against me,” he explained. “Threatened their lives if I didn’t train under him. They’re obviously fine now,” he added quickly.
An annoyed growl escaped Damian. “Doesn’t change the fact that he not only hurt you-”
“Damian calm down,” said Nightwing as he reached out to him. Before he knew it, his older brother had pulled him into a hug and rubbing reassuring circles onto his back. Damian felt his shoulders relax at his brother’s touch. “Like you said, we can’t let Slade get under our skin, especially over something that happened, what? Ten years ago?”
“Don’t use my own words against me, Grayson,” huffed Damian, gently pulling away from the hug and standing up.
A low chuckle escaped Grayson as he followed Damian’s lead. “I’ll do that when you stop being such a hypocrite.”
“Don’t call me something I’m not, Grayson.”
“Whatever you say, Damian.”
Rolling his eyes, Damian began to shift through his utility belt. He searched for a moment before pulling out his grapple gun, and nonchalantly examined it. “I heard Pennyworth is making hot chocolate and cookies.”
Grayson notched an eyebrow, a small smile gracing his lips. “Is that so?” Damian merely nodded as he and Grayson prepared to take off. “I guess we better not keep him waiting then.”