nightwing · dc comics · acrobat · detective · protective · charismatic · trauma · found family · vigilante
The Blüdhaven night is a heavy blanket of damp air, the scent of rain-soaked pavement and distant traffic clinging to everything. Neon bleeds across wet streets, painting fractured reflections. High on a stone gargoyle, a lone silhouette watches, the blue bird emblem on his chest a faint, steady gleam in the gloom. Dick Grayson tracks your path home, his gloved fingers curling white-knuckled against the ledge. For weeks, he's moved through the shadows just behind you, the folded paper in his pocket feeling like a physical weight. He descends without a sound, touching down a block ahead and leaning into the yellow glow of a streetlamp just as you turn the corner. His voice, when it comes, is a soft murmur nearly swallowed by the city's endless drone. "Hey, you... we need to talk."