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Location: Blüdhaven – Warehouse District, April 2011, 1:12 AM
Cory was pissed.
She wasn’t supposed to be in Blüdhaven. She hated Blüdhaven. It smelled like salt, old engine oil, and political corruption, reminding her of everything rotten about Gotham—but somehow worse. Yet, when one of her alley cats tracked Marcus Valez, a trafficker she'd been hunting for weeks, across city lines, there was no other choice. She followed the lead here, straight into the kind of trouble she’d hoped to avoid.
But what she absolutely didn’t anticipate was finding a second vigilante already in the middle of her fight when she burst through the skylight.
Glass shattered around her, and she landed smoothly on the warehouse floor, staff extended and ready—
Only to witness a familiar pair of escrima sticks slice through the air and strike a thug directly in the ribs.
Nightwing pivoted instantly, his fluid grace freezing in surprise as he took in her sudden appearance. His eyes narrowed behind the domino mask.
“You?!” they demanded simultaneously, voices blending into mutual irritation.
Cory jabbed her staff toward him accusingly. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Nightwing cocked an eyebrow. “I live here. What’s your excuse for trespassing into my city?”
She glowered, eyes flashing dangerously. “Valez skipped Gotham after murdering two teenage girls in Crime Alley. I’m here to collect.”
The humor faded instantly from Nightwing’s expression, replaced by something harder, colder. “Valez is the one running this warehouse.”
Cory tightened her grip on the electrified staff, its low hum grounding her. “I know. So either we waste time arguing over vigilante jurisdiction or we deal with him.”
Dick studied her for a heartbeat, then nodded curtly. “Truce?”
“Temporary,” she agreed, already scanning the room for cameras and guards. “Don’t slow me down.”
“Could say the same to you,” he retorted, flashing an infuriating grin.
Location: Inside the Warehouse – 1:24 AM
The grudging alliance proved annoyingly effective.
Cory slipped through shadows and scaffolding, disabling surveillance with swift precision, silencing alarms with carefully calibrated EMP darts, and setting traps that immobilized anyone unlucky enough to cross her path. Dick, meanwhile, handled the brunt of the crowd control, swiftly incapacitating opponents with moves so practiced and effortless it was almost infuriating.
Yet, beneath her irritation, Cory found herself reluctantly impressed. Dick didn’t move with Batman’s brooding intensity or Jason’s raw, unpredictable aggression—his fighting style was fluid, controlled chaos tempered by remarkable restraint.
Mid-skirmish, he glanced at her with clear admiration. “You’re better than your reputation suggests, Stray.”
She rolled her eyes, dropping a thug with a precise strike to the knee. “Spare me the charm. I’m not another lost bird looking for a nest.”
He chuckled, rolling beneath a wild punch effortlessly. “Trust me, you’re not my type. I prefer partners who aren’t actively plotting my demise.”
Despite herself, a smirk curled her lips as she incapacitated another guard with practiced ease. "Do you ever get tired of flipping around like a circus performer, or is showing off your thing?"
Dick parried an incoming blow smoothly, his voice light despite the effort. "What can I say? Audiences love a little flair."
She snorted, disabling a nearby camera with a quick EMP charge. "You're lucky you're charming enough to distract people from the obvious."
He glanced at her sidelong, clearly amused. "And what's the obvious?"
Cory darted past another blow, popping back up beside him fluidly. "You’re compensating."
Dick laughed softly, his escrima sticks spinning deftly. "And you're overcompensating. Ever thought about easing up on the intimidation?"
She raised an eyebrow beneath her mask, voice dry. "Says the guy who works with the Bat."
Dick feigned hurt, dispatching another thug effortlessly. "Harsh, Stray. And here I thought we were finally bonding."
"Don't push your luck, Nightwing," she retorted sharply, though a reluctant amusement edged her tone. "I’m allergic to optimism."
“Back off!” Valez shouted desperately, finger trembling on the trigger of his gun. “You don’t know who you’re messing with—I’ve got powerful friends!”
Cory narrowed her eyes, lip curling in distaste. Without hesitation, she swung her staff, knocking the pistol from Valez’s hand, leaving him defenseless.
“You trafficked kids out of my home. You’re out of friends,” she hissed, stalking forward.
Dick swiftly stepped in, cuffing Valez securely. “Easy, Stray. Let the law handle it.”
She snorted derisively. “Because the law does such a fantastic job cleaning up the streets.”
Nightwing paused, conflicted. “You good if I call it in?”
She huffed. “I need five minutes alone with him first.”
Dick raised a skeptical brow. “Five minutes to do what?”
“To have a civil discussion,” she deadpanned, voice dripping sarcasm.
He scoffed softly. “And B says I have a problem with authority.”
Warehouse Rooftop – 1:56 AM
After Valez was securely restrained and awaiting the GCPD, Cory perched on the rooftop, gazing out over the tangled maze of Blüdhaven's streets. She was tired, worn thin, and eager to return to the gritty familiarity of Gotham. Beside her, Nightwing joined quietly, leaning casually against the brick ledge, gaze thoughtful.
“You really do care about Crime Alley,” Dick observed softly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. It wasn't a question, more an acknowledgment.
“Someone has to,” she replied curtly, eyes trained on distant streetlights. “The city likes to forget it exists, but it's home. My people deserve better.”
Dick's expression softened, a flicker of respect crossing his face. “Jason always spoke highly of you.”
Cory's eyes darted toward him, guarded, evaluating. “He talked about you too. Said you were stubborn, irritatingly cheerful, and almost impossible to dislike.” She tilted her head, a ghost of amusement appearing. “I’m still deciding on that last part.”
Dick chuckled, appreciating the blunt honesty. His voice quieted slightly. “I tried to be there for him, you know. Jason and I weren’t close—not the way I’d hoped—but I never stopped caring.”
She studied him silently, weighing the sincerity behind his words. Finally, she exhaled softly. “He needed people who saw him, not a project to mold into another Robin. He deserved better.”
Dick's gaze sharpened slightly at the bitter undercurrent in her voice. “Who sees you, Cory?”
She tensed involuntarily, discomfort crawling beneath her skin. The silence lingered, heavy and raw, before she finally responded with quiet honesty. “I see myself. It's safer that way.”
Dick nodded slowly, not pushing further, sensing the fragile boundary. Instead, he gave her a gentle smile. “Well, if you ever decide being alone isn’t enough, don't be a stranger. You ever need backup, call me.”
She paused, clearly considering his sincerity. “I'll think about it,” she allowed quietly. Reaching into a pocket, she withdrew a small tech chip and tossed it toward him. “Consider this a peace offering—upgrade for your escrima sticks. Better charge retention, less power drain.”
Dick caught it deftly, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She gave him a pointed look, the warning visible even beneath her mask. “Don't mention it. Ever.”
His grin returned easily. “Noted.”
She stood fluidly, pulling her hood back up and adjusting her mask. Turning away, she paused briefly, glancing back over her shoulder.
“Thanks, Grayson,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
“For trying,” she said simply, before stepping off the roof and disappearing soundlessly into Blüdhaven’s darkness.
Dick stood there silently, eyes tracing the path Cory had vanished into the darkness. Gotham had a way of pulling people into its shadows and never letting go, taking more than it gave, and leaving scars too deep to heal. He'd watched it happen far too often.
But Cory Mora wasn't someone Gotham could break easily—she was stubborn, fierce, and driven by a determination that burned brighter than the darkness surrounding her. If anyone could defy the path Gotham had laid out, it was her—and Dick found himself quietly hoping she'd prove the city wrong.