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Dick is perched on one of the gargoyles, thirty minutes away from ending his patrol and officially calling this night a quiet one, when he hears a scream. He jumps down from the building and grapples towards the sound.
“Gods, you stink!” yells a guy in a fighting stance, he’s holding a pipe like it’s a sword. “Let’s go to the docks. I’ll give you to Poseidon’s Special Bath,” he tells a… chihuahua.
“Nightwing to Oracle. Any news on Arkham or rogue activity?” The chihuahua yaps and starts pacing in front of the guy, like it’s trying to find an opening in his guard, and he moves the pipe like he’s blocking incoming attacks. “I have a guy trying to get into a sword fight with a chihuahua, ”
“Negative. Seems like it’s just a person having a bad day.”
“OK, thanks O.”
“Anytime.”
The guy swings the pipe… and the chihuahua whines. It’s too far away for the guy to have hit, but it puts its tail under its legs and growls angrily.
“I told you to get away.” He has dark hair, a backpack, and is wearing a tattered orange shirt beneath a denim jacket. He has a row of four parallel scratches on his chest. Actually, they do look like claw marks, but from a far bigger animal than a chihuahua. The chihuahua pounces, and the guy retreats right into the alley behind him. It’s a bad move: it’s a dead-end.
“Skôr!” And… he just found that out.
Dick follows them through the rooftops. The chihuahua is gloating, and Dick has seen enough weird things to jump right into action instead of questioning things. He shoots his grapple gun at the roof across the alley.
“Hold on!” he screams, swinging down. The guy looks at him and lets Dick grab him, then holds onto his chest. They’re going up when Dick feels pain in his leg.
They land. Dick makes sure the guy is fine (he’s taunting the chihuahua), and looks at his leg: the right one has a scratch in it, it’s not deep, but it is long. It’s probably fine to just leave it as is, maybe just a bandage to keep it clean.
“Be glad I didn’t send you Tartarus this time,” says the alley guy, looking down. The dog is barking and growling. “Thank you for that save.” He doesn’t have the pipe anymore. “Ah, it got you. Do you want any…?” The guy knocks Dick down, and they roll on the roof.
The chihuahua climbed up. It looks angrier than before.
How on earth did a chihuahua climb up so high?
“What is it?”
“What?!” The guy looks at him, his eyes big like plates. He’s holding the pipe again. “What do you see?”
“A chihuahua?”
The chihuahua pounces at them.
“Dock!” yells the guy, but Dick is already rolling and feet away. His body is filled with adrenaline, sensing danger even if Dick doesn’t really know what's going on.
“What is it?!” Dick pulls out his escrima sticks.
“It’s a chimaera!”
The guy flicks his fingers, and there’s a strange feeling in the air, prickling his skin, and then he sees the chimaera for the first time: the lion’s head, with a matted mane, and the snake hissing and lashing towards them. He dodges and then manages to hit it with the electrified escrima. That monster yowls and backs away. It paces from one side of the rooftop to the other, cutting their exits.
“Cool!” says the guy. “I’ve never seen a mortal hurt a monster! Well, not without—” he trails off. The chimaera is done circling them. It flexes its hind legs, preparing to pounce on the other guy… but charges towards Dick instead. He is too close to the edge of the building to run or dodge. He dives under the monster, between the front legs. It smells rotten.
“Hit it again!”
Dick activates both escrimas and presses them from underneath the chimaera. The creature shrieks, it stands on its hind legs to try and get away from the pain, but Dick stands and keeps pressing.
In a second, the other guy is beside him, plunging a sword into the chimaera's belly. Dick waits for the monster to fall, but it dissolves into golden ashes and blows away with Gotham’s wind.
The guy lets out a long sigh and sits down on the floor.
“I’m getting too old for this,” he says. He doesn’t look much older than Tim. Barely eighteen, if not younger. He takes out a square packet from his backpack and bites into it. “So, you're one of Gotham’s superheroes, right? Batman?”
“Nightwing.” Dick puts the escrima sticks back into their holsters and sits beside the guy. “And you are?”
“Ah, right,” says the guy, he’s half-done chewing. He swallows and continues. “I’m Percy.”
Percy is young, but he’s used to battle and used to learning other people’s abilities on the go and making use of them.
“Did the chimaera do that?” he asks, meaning Percy’s chest.
“Nah, this was an empousai a couple of days ago,” he says, pointing at his knee. “I kinda rolled the wrong way, but can’t have too much ambrosia and nectar, you know?” He shrugs, in a ‘sucks-but-what-can-you-do’ kinda way. “Er, you probably don’t know.”
Suddenly, Dick understands why Clark had seemed so sad or worried every time he saw Dick injured or in danger when he was a kid. Why everyone seemed so worried that he was on his own as Nightwing when he first started with the gig.
“Is that… what is it?”
“It’s…” Percy trails off. “I really don’t know how much I should be telling you, man. Like, I’m a little out of it right now.”
“Tell you what, let’s get burgers, and we pretend that everything you tell me is just ramblings from someone who got dosed with Joker venom.” Back then, Dick felt all the adults who were offering help were doing it because they didn’t think he was capable. He thought they didn’t know he was competent or strong enough without Bruce, but it probably was that they thought he shouldn’t have had to deal with everything alone. “I kinda feel like this could be the story that will get me the win for weirdest thing we’ve heard on patrol for this month.”
“I…” Percy hesitates.
“C’mon, the burgers are on me. And I can take you to any place in Gotham you want after that. I can get you there faster than anybody else.”
Percy looks at Dick, analyzing him. After a minute, he nods and stands up.
“Why not? I could really use a burger right now, and if any God has any objections, they should stop losing their things.”
Dick takes Percy to Batburger, orders three bat-burgers, a night-wing, two bat-fries, and two bat-sodas, and takes him to the boot in the back, the one that has all the entry points in sight. Percy sits with his back to the wall.
“So,” says Dick, unwrapping one of the burgers. “You’re immortal?” He takes a bite of the burger.
“What? No.” Percy grabs a burger. “I very much can die.”
“You called me a mortal.”
“Well, yeah, but not because I’m immortal. It’s like, well…” He bites the burger. “It’s like ‘muggle’, I guess.”
Dick grabs a fry.
“Right. So, you're like a wizard.”
“Demigod.”
Dick whistles.
“I thought demigods were only a thing in Ancient Greece.”
Percy shrugs. He takes a handful of fries and then a big sip of soda to pass them down.
“And what’s a demigod doing in Gotham? We don’t really see many of you here.”
“Mortals don't usually see us, or the monsters. But yeah, we like to avoid Gotham.”
“As any reasonable person would.” Dick nods and opens the night-wing. They're not that good, but they make the buns blue and then put Nightwing’s symbol with a hot rod. Percy perks up. “Do you want a taste?”
“What? No. It’s just… My mom and I have this thing with food. She's always making blue food for me, but we’ve never gone as far as to die a bun blue.”
“You have to taste it, then!” Dick pushes it towards him. “That way you can help her make them.”
“No, really…”
“I have them all the time, and you probably won’t come back to Gotham. You certainly shouldn’t bring your mom.”
“Dude, if this place sucks so much, why do you live here?”
Dick laughs.
“It’s home! Home, sweet home.”
Percy doesn’t look convinced.
“That’s why you decide to…” he points at his eyes.
“To become a vigilante?” asks Dick. Percy nods. “Gotham gave me a home, and I have the skills to protect it, and to protect the people I love, so I just… went out and did just that.”
Percy nods. He looks at the night-wing, takes a bite and chews it slowly.
“How is it?”
“Kinda dry.”
Dick laughs.
“See? Now you can tell your mom the food dye makes the buns dry.”
Percy scoffs. He takes another bite and chews slowly.
“I was wondering if any of us would have chosen to fight,” he says. “Like, you and Superman, you look so cheery, and like you could 100% step away from saving the world, and having to fight all the time… and I don't know. I know I wouldn’t be able to do nothing if my friends or my family were in danger, but… I kinda wish I could go to…” he smiles, it’s a bit of a sad smile. “I sometimes wish I could go to a remote island where nothing bad happens, ever. And feel guilty, because then somebody else would be fighting and putting themselves in danger instead of me.”
Dick nods.
“I get that. That guilt of wanting to rest, but knowing bad things are always happening, and other people can get hurt if you don’t step up.”
Percy nods.
“Do you ever wish… You could stop?”
Dick swirls the ice in his soda.
“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it.” He grabs a fry, twirls it in his fingers, and puts it back down. “The thing is, we are many now. Like, Gotham is a handful, but there are so many of us now, that we can divide the workload. Same with the Justice League. We can always reach out if we need help.”
Percy is frowning. Did Dick mess up? He should have thought about what to say first instead of thinking out loud. He gets Percy doesn’t get a choice on whether he fights or not, and not entirely because his conscience would keep pestering him about it. Maybe he should have…? No. It would have been far worse to lie.
“There used to be very few of us,” says Percy. “And we don’t really get a chance to decide when we want to start fighting, but…” He fiddles with a pen, twirling it between his fingers. “But we know we’re not alone, and I was thinking, maybe we should try and get a way for everyone to be in touch. Like, it would be cool to know if there’s an ally nearby when you need it, instead of having to figure out everything on your own. Especially for the new campers.”
Dick takes out a card from a pocket in the thigh of the suit.
“I don’t know how to help with getting everyone in touch, but the Justice League has resources for heroes across the world.” He hands Percy the card. “Sounds like you or your friends might find them useful, and if you ever find yourselves in Gotham, you can always ask for help from the Bats. Just tell them you're friends with Nightwing.”
Percy doesn’t try to read the card, but he saves it and makes sure it’s deep in his pocket.
“Thanks.”
Dick nods.
“Do you want anything else?” Percy eyes the last burger, but shakes his head. “You don’t want to take the burger? I was hungry when I ordered it, but I’m actually full.”
“You sure?”
Dick nods. “For the trip home.”
“Thanks.” Percy grabs the burger and puts it in his backpack, then takes out a bottle and pours the rest of his soda into it. “Can I take you up on that offer to be my travel guide?”
“Of course! Where to?”
“The docks.”
“Follow me, then.”
Dick leaves the money on the table and leads Percy out.
“Are you afraid of heights?”
“Er, not exactly? But if I can’t go any higher than the Empire State.”
“We won’t go any higher than that.”
“What?”
“You ever wondered how the Bats fly?”
“No?”
“You’re about to find out.” Dick grabs Percy’s waist. “Hold tight, and remember, I'm an expert.” He shoots the grapple gun and takes Percy for a flight. After the first dive, Percy starts screaming from excitement rather than fear. He gets him to the docks in less than ten minutes.
“That was sick!” Percy says, catching his breath. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Any time.”
Percy looks at the water on the docks and curls his lips in distaste.
“Wouldn’t recommend swimming there,” says Dick.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“What?”
Percy shrugs.
“Can’t be worse than the Hudson and East rivers.”
Dick… actually thinks it could be worse.
“Thank you for everything,” says Percy, strapping the backpack tight to his back.
“Good luck,” says Dick. “And I hope you can find a way to retire soon.”
Percy smiles. “I hope so, too.” And jumps into the water.
Dick is worried he might have gotten poisoned by the water until Delphi Strawberry Services contacts the Wayne Foundation about help for local superheroes. The e-mail is signed by Percy Jackson, Nightwing’s friend.