Work Text:
Crime fighting was not just a fight, not just a dance, but a performance. It was the act of predicting whatever your opponent would do and never showing the effect on you. You doge a punch, send a kick, and then flip over the head of the thug. Weaknesses have no place here. No place for anything except strength.
You have always stood out. When other kids were still learning to walk, you were already being tossed through the air. When other kids struggled with one language, you already knew four. When other kids' parents always came home from their safe, normal jobs, yours leaped through the air, flying until they fell. You are painfully, effortlessly human.
To others you are a demon coming to punish their sins. You flip and land on someone’s head. They start falling unconscious as soon as you land. You laugh at the pain you cause. Your red, green, and yellow costume stands out among the dirty, grimy black around you. You are a criminal's worst fear.
One day, you will go fight in another's city, and the heros there will look at you with fear. One day, you will look at the pain you cause with disgust. One day, you will look at your mentor’s worst enemy, and he will look back at you with fear. One day, you will think back to your mentor’s favorite saying of “criminals are a suspicious, cowardly lot, so we must strike fear into them,” and know that was not a sane way of looking at the world. One day, you will be scared of yourself, but today you are not. Today, you will destroy anyone who dares to hurt others, and laugh and be happy while doing it. One day, you will be the Nightwing, “the great rebuilder, the catalyst of change, eternally reborn to start anew,” but today you are not. You are color in a city where it is dangerous, and light in a city that fears it. You may be the scariest thing in Gotham. You are the Robin.