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[𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨…
𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫 0; 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫 -5]
❝Mom! Mom! Happy Mother’s Day!❞ The 13-year-old shouts as he pushes past the crowd of cast members setting up for the big Friday night show. He holds his gift high above his head, sparkling like a treasure in the warm sunset. ❝Happy Mother’s Day… I know it’s not til Sunday, but, Dad said Gotham weekends get a little busy.. I got you this.❞
A bracelet adorned with two golden robins shimmers in her hand. He smiles as she admires it, immediately fitting her wrist in the band.
“Oh, it’s beautiful! Dick! How sweet… robins from my little Robin. I love it, sweetheart.”
And she wore it until the world’s cruel claws took her away from him. It glistened in her final spotlight that night.
———
[𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭;
𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫 1]
Silver daggers slice the air before they clink their way into the steel of Nightwing’s escrima, held inches from his face. His assailant knows him well; the daggers were a distraction prior to the main course. The aggressor charges. Dick takes a swift kick to the chest—Strong enough to knock the wind out of his lungs, but quick enough to be followed up with another. Before him stands a long-lived enemy. A tormentor from the past.
[1 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫]
Nightwing sits atop the slanted roof of a tower in Blüdhaven. The cold wind kisses his bare face and rustles through his hair. Below his high tower sits The Haven: Gotham’s Evil Step-Sister. A city known for being crueler than Gotham is crazy.
He’s no stranger to the Haven, but he’s yet to take up permanent residence. It’s an odd feeling to move out… he’s not far, but since the days shortly after his parents’ tragic deaths he’s never truly been alone. Even as soon as they fell, Haly and other performers protected the boy. A few short months later, he became Robin, the Boy Wonder, under the tutelage of the Dark Knight. Any free time he had between school, vigilantism, and extracurriculars, he spent with the Titans. They practically raised each other when their mentors weren’t around.
But now? After all that’s happened with Slade? After everything with HIVE? Dick Grayson needs a damn win—a real one, as he won’t forgive letting Deathstroke get away with murdering the HIVE council. Those deaths are on me, Dick tells himself.
So why Blüdhaven? Why the city of cruelty? Because Dick knows what kind of evilness cruelty attracts. He knows what lurks beneath the surface, seeking justification for their hatred whilst crawling unseen in the shadows of cruelty and slithering through life unscathed like a snake in the desert, unbothered by the brutal heat surrounding it.
The red dot on Dick’s handheld tracker blinks at a steady pace. He’s not worried about catching this particular snake.
Until the dot begins blinking faster and faster. Target’s running, but from what? It’s early evening! The streetlights barely turned on! And Dick knows his target—he’s not just out for a jog, Dick thinks. Grayson dives off the ledge of his tower, entering a free fall. The wind’s kisses turn to nibbles against his skin, gently stinging his face as he falls.
He shoots his grappling line at the last second, allowing himself to be whisked away in the breeze. The chill rushing against his body is almost enough to take his mind to the freedom of his old trapeze. Almost. You see, dear reader, the serpent he chases is none other than Mr. Tony Zucco.
His first mission as Robin involved catching Zucco after the stunt he pulled at Haly’s Circus all those years ago. “𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐳𝐞,” the headlines read all across Gotham after the Flying Grayson’s fell. He thought after putting Zucco away he’d move on, and for a time he did. His anger towards the man dissipated. His mission became compassion, not revenge. But a lot changes in five years, and now the man’s been released from prison. With his freedom comes feelings flooding back into Grayson’s heart.
Nightwing’s tracker leads him to the rooftop of an abandoned building, but a kick to his side shoves him to a gravelly roof, forcing him to take an early, bumpy landing. He slides along the grit but stops himself by tumbling to his feet into a three-point stance. A lady in yellow dances through the air with a series of flips, accompanied by a near identical lady in a similar yellow.
❝Great, now I’m seeing double… you’re not gonna tell me to prepare for trouble, are you?❞ Nightwing’s sarcastic demeanor is meant to disarm the ladies, but their smiles go unfazed.
“Double’s right, sweetheart!”
“Dare ya to step a foot closer!” The French women giggle. In unison now, they taunt the vigilante,
“Welcome to ‘Haven, ya poser! You may call us Double Dare! Blüdhaven’s best acrobats!”
Nightwing stands to his feet, dazed and confused,
❝Yeah…I’m not calling you that.❞
“Too bad.”
“So sad.”
“No vigilantes allowed!”
“So scram!” They speak in turns, rehearsed like the entertainers they are, taunting the man with their over-the-top performance as they vault toward him with an array of acrobatics. Dare cartwheels into consecutive round off back handsprings while Double performs a triple full twist with great speed, gaining more momentum per turn.
The speed throws Nightwing off balance. His analytical skills kick into high gear. He sees their execution and can guess where they’ll land. 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘹 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘊𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮—𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩. They’re faster than any acrobat he’s faced, and more in-sync than any gymnastics pair he’s known. 𝘈𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵’𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴. ‘𝘉𝘭ü𝘥𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵’ 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘱—𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘩. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘫𝘰𝘣𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦?
Their attacks are too fast for him to back away. He hastily grabs his escrimas off his back, but the gymnasts stick their landings and latch their claws onto his forearms. 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘯? 𝘕𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱—𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘧 he 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 their goal. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘕𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴.
He twirls his escrimas and activates the electric ends once they face the duo. They each place a leg in front of his and lock him in. No room to jab with his batons. He has an idea but it’s risky. He drops his escrimas and the women jump away, fearing the electricity sparking off the sticks.
As soon as he’s free, he tackles the gymnast to the left of him and wrestles her into a headlock. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘵.
❝Now, before you take one of those escrimas and start swinging, you should know you’d only hurt your partner here.❞ He tells Double as she reaches for the twin batons, anticipating her actions. ❝You thought I wouldn’t have an insulated suit?❞ The lady pouts and glares, with her hand inches from a baton.
❝Tell me, why does Tony Zucco need bodyguards? Who’s he so afraid of?❞ He interrogates but she doesn’t give.
❝Quickly now, your friend might run out of air.❞ He’s had it. He wants Zucco, not these half-rate acrobats, he thinks to himself.
Finally, she squeals,
“He hired us for people like you!”
His hold loosens in his confusion. 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦? 𝘏𝘰𝘸’𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮? 𝘜𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴… Double takes her sole advantage in his distraction and flings a baton his way. He rolls along the gravel to avoid the steel to his face, but with a loosened headlock, his hostage frees herself in their roll. She kicks him in the gut as hard as she can, forcing a distance between them.
𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘺—𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘡𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘰! He reasons, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦. Again, the women dance in the air, slicing through the gap between them and the vigilante. He barely has the time to stand.
He suffers a barrage of kicks despite his best attempts at blocking the women. Dare sweeps his legs while Double leaps and locks her legs around Nightwing’s neck just as he falls. Dare constrains his feet to prevent an escape.
❝You know.. any other day and I might be… thrilled by this.❞
He struggles as the hold tightens around his windpipe. Luckily for the vigilante, they neglected his hands in the hopes they’d choke him out first. He slyly grabs a wingding and flicks it at a vent protruding on the rooftop. It ricochets off the metal and stabs Double in her thigh. Shocked and frightened by the sharp metal, she jolts off his neck which allows Nightwing to launch his feet free, forcing his way out of the other woman’s grip. She rushes to her sister’s side, while Dick catches his breath. Blood spills down her leg from the cut.
❝That’s enough playing around. Doctor’s orders. You two are after the wrong mask.❞ He commands as he scoops up his lone escrima on the roof, docking it in its holster on his back. The second, unharmed sister cartwheels towards him but she’s swiftly kicked off her tumble by a third party. She rolls and bounces along the rooftop; her sister screams for her.
Nightwing averts his gaze and quickly looks for the new assailant. He catches a glimpse of orange and blue moving swiftly across the roof before the streaks of silver slice through the fresh night air. The sunset has long abandoned the city of cruelty, and the serpents can now roam freely in the dark of the night.
He reacts instinctively. Daggers clash into the steel of Nightwing’s freshly unsheathed escrima. His opponent knows him well; the deadly daggers distract him enough that he can’t avoid two swift kicks to the chest. Nightwing lands with a thud. Before him towers a long-lived enemy—A tormentor from the past:
Deathstroke, the Terminator! Here to collect on a fateful contract.