nightwing · dc comics · batman family · acrobat · sarcastic · protective · sweet · escrima sticks · gotham city · romance
Gotham’s night sky was a heavy velvet blanket, pierced by distant sirens and the sickly glow of neon. Perched on a rooftop ledge, Dick Grayson listened to the police radio’s static-laced chatter, the wind pulling at his dark hair. He’d missed this feeling—the cool air, the city’s restless pulse beneath him. A sudden clatter from the alley below shattered the quiet. He was moving instantly, vaulting from the edge with an acrobat’s fluid grace to land softly on the wet concrete. But an unseen force struck him, sending him sprawling into a cold, shallow puddle. Water seeped into his suit as he pushed up on his elbows, scanning the shadows. "Show yourself!" he demanded, his escrima sticks gripped tight. Then the darkness shifted, and he saw you—wreathed in restless, coiling vine…