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ao3komorii · 3 years ago

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In The Light (Dick Grayson{Nightwing}/Reader)

The Nightwing story is here at last! Had a few setbacks with this one due to real life issues, but happy to finally get it out! Batman has a whole lot of canon, so I did my best to write all the characters as accurately as possible. Also, most of my Nightwing canon is from Nightwing vol 6. The Untouchable, so that’s where a lot of the odd references come from. Hope you enjoy!

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“Have a nice day. I’m glad we could get that sorted out for you!” you said with a pleasant smile, as if you hadn’t just spent the past forty minutes being yelled at over two dollars and forty-five cents of library fines by a middle-aged man whose B.O. had literally been giving you a headache.

“Bludhaven Public Library will be closing in twenty minutes,” came the announcement from the speaker mounted on the wall beside the circulation desk.

Closing the man’s file on your computer, you let out a quiet sigh. Today hadn’t been the worst first day at a new job you’d ever had, but this place sure lived up to its reputation. Though that was exactly why you had come here in the first place.

You had found a nice apartment on the edge of the ritzy Avalon Hills section of the city, found a job, and then moved from your nice, safe hometown to what was essentially the criminal capital of New Jersey. You were glad you had your library diploma, although Bludhaven Public Library was just happy to have anyone not be too scared to apply to work there, so you had gotten the job easily.

It was a relief that the workday ended without any big dramas, which meant you could leave work on time right at five. If you had any hope of being awake and alert during your first patrol later, you had to get home and take a nap. This place would not be very forgiving to a sleepy hero at two in the morning.

You weren’t fully comfortable with the title of hero, but you couldn’t really think of a better word. From an early age, you had felt a sense that you had to use what you had been given to do some good in the world, but superheroing didn’t pay the bills, so librarian-slash-superhero it was.

You had gone into the hospital at age fifteen for a suspected broken wrist, and came out a victim of a level four radiological event. You had unknowingly been the first patient to receive an x-ray using a new form of radiation, or at least you would have been if the material hadn’t gone unexpectedly critical, instantly serving the nurse with a fatal dose of radiation that had slowly taken her life over the next few days.

At the time, you had been wearing a lead apron and had been sitting across the room from the machine, so you had received a much lower, survivable dose of radiation. After a few days of fever and nausea, you were released from the hospital, and after a threat of a medical malpractice suit, you were set up with enough money to pay for college anywhere you wanted to go.

You had only learned of the nurse’s painful death from overhearing a conversation in the hallway outside your hospital room. The hospital had disposed of the unstable radioactive material, and then smothered the story to ashes, the new x-ray machine never making it to market.

You hadn’t noticed anything weird until a year after the initial incident. You had been in bed studying for your English final when your bedside lamp had winked out, plunging your room into darkness. Figuring it to be a freak occurrence, you got up to turn on your light, only for that to wink out too. It had taken until you had gone to find your parents, only for the hall light to go out too that you realized that maybe you were the freak occurrence.

In your panic, you failed to notice until you re-entered your room that the palms of your hands were glowing. After some trial and error, and probably too much googling, you had managed to mostly work things out for yourself.

Radiation accidents were uncommon, and usually resulted in death or sickness, but you were able to find one useful result. Dr. Alex Sartorius, a scientist with intentions of building a nuclear power plant in Gotham City, had become disfigured by a nuclear meltdown incident, the resulting condition leaving him in a constant state of being on fire, his skeleton visible through his skin. The article listed him as Doctor Phosphorus, his chosen name as he ascended to villainy with his new powers, the accompanying picture of him fighting Batman enough to send a chill down your spine.

You couldn’t find anything about radiation sickness giving anyone the ability to steal light from light fixtures, so you were forced to figure things out for yourself. Without telling your parents, you tested the limits of your new powers on every light you could find, emerging out on the other side with confidence in your abilities, but no idea what you were supposed to do now.

Not only could you steal and manipulate light into shapes and colors, but during one overexcited foray involving a street light, you discovered that you could also turn the light into physical matter, and then back into light. You had largely sat on this information, afraid to take the last step into what you had been considering until you had graduated university.

No longer living with your parents, you would be free to come and go whenever you wanted without arousing suspicions, and it was then that you decided to begin your hobby as a masked crime fighter. You had been pretty decent at the javelin in high school, a habit that had translated into your tendency to use javelins of solid light against criminals, and led to your chosen hero moniker Lightspear.

At first, you were satisfied with stopping the occasional mugger or carjacker, but it got old quick. The longer you were on the scene, the less crime there was. You knew that you should probably be happy that crime rates were going way down, but you just felt unsatisfied. You could be doing so much more good than you were able to in this town; you felt like you owed it to victims of crime to use your powers for the largest amount of good possible, and you knew that your self-imposed mission no longer fit with your life in your small hometown.

You had felt lost, unsure of what to do, until trouble had struck close to home. Your best friend’s older brother had been in and out of trouble since his early teens, getting involved with every drug you had heard of, and some you hadn’t. But this time, he had gone too far.

You had been sleeping off a late night patrol when she had come by, banging on your door until you opened it to see her standing on your doorstep with tears in her eyes. You hadn’t seen Kamila Parra since she had been shipped off to live with her distant aunt in Gotham City after her brother had become too much for her to live with. The potentially happy reunion had been immediately ruined as she had informed you that she was back in town for her brother’s funeral.

He had finally gone too far with his drug use, but it wasn’t that fact that stunned you, but a week later when you had opened your laptop to see a breaking news article at the top of your newsfeed.

Emile Parra was far from the only life to be lost to drugs in the past week. The author of the article had connected no less than thirty deaths in the past week to some new drug called cherry, the chemical makeup of which the police had been struggling to analyze. The drugs had appeared on the scene out of nowhere, and seemed to be fatal, several victims being known to have taken the drug in pill form around twenty-four hours before their deaths.

You devoured the article with increasing horror. A lot of it had been speculation, the police tight-lipped about information except to put out a statement recommending against taking illegal drugs. The article had ended with the author’s assertion that these drugs had to be coming out of Bludhaven, a mecha for all things criminal, which was when you had decided. You needed to do more than catch a purse snatcher a month, and in a city full of criminal activity, there would be no lack of problems for you to solve, starting with tracking down whoever was responsible for the drug that had killed Kamila’s brother and thirty-odd others. To Bludhaven it was.

The streets were decently busy for the early evening, but this wasn’t the crowd you were interested in. Nobody was dealing the real hard drugs until the midnight hours anyways, so that’s when you intended to be out here on patrol. You had taken the bus to work, not wanting to be late, but decided to walk the forty minute walk back to your apartment to try and get a better feel of this city, considering you intended on staying here for a while.

You passed by churches and parks, making mental notes of any areas of interest you intended to revisit on patrol later. You had done some research on this place before you had moved, but it was an entirely different thing being here and seeing the streets for yourself. The casinos were another potential point of interest; it seemed that much of this place ran on money from the casinos, though the thought gave you pause. What would a casino tycoon get from flooding the streets with a hundred-percent-fatal drug? Guaranteed death meant no addiction, and no more money. You weren’t a drug kingpin, but it was clear that cherry was bad for business.

So who was responsible then? What would motivate someone to produce a drug that would only really take out drug addicts? Someone who wanted to get rid of drug users? It was plainly obvious to you how out of your depth you were here; taking down a drug operation was a far cry from any of the petty crimes you had dealt with back in your hometown, not that you were about to let that stop you.

This place was obviously seedy, but that didn’t mean that’s all it was. You took notice of an old woman with her grandchildren in the park who had come by the library earlier, the kids excited for a book that had just been released. Confronting criminal behavior wasn’t easy, but seeing people like that just going about their day made your efforts feel worth it. You owed it to these people to do everything you could to keep them safe.

You stopped to pick up a sandwich from a café for dinner before retreating to your apartment, eager for bed. Setting your alarm for midnight, you crawled under the covers, forcing your nerves to the side in order to get yourself some sleep.

It was pitch black outside when your alarm went off. Getting out of bed, you stretched your arms above your head as you stared out of your window down at the streets below.

Fully awake, you made your way to your closet, parting the rack of clothing to reach the secret hanger you kept at the back of your closet.

Changing into your hero outfit, you stood in front of your mirror, checking yourself over. The white jacket over tight white pants tucked into white knee-length boots combo had resulted from a mix of trial and error. While the costume was tight-fitting, it was still comfortable, the jacket adorned with silver reflective stripes to aide you with gathering light when you needed it.

To complete the ensemble, you picked up the white mask on your dresser, affixing it to your face. The mask was simple but effective, white reflective material over the eyes of the mask to hide your eyes from view. You could not afford an identity slip-up, least of all in a place like Bludhaven.

After grabbing a few mini-flashlights and your phone, you were off, heading down the fire escape and onto the street. You had tried to do some research, but of course no drug dealing operation was going to just put all their information online for anyone to see, so you didn’t have a lot to work off of. The best you could do was take note of which locations in the city had the most articles mentioning them in relation to arrests for drug offenses.

Number one on the resulting list had been Melville Park. Seven of the ten most recent drug arrest articles had referenced the park as an arresting location, including one article that went into detail on the arrest of a small-time dealer by the interesting name of Jailbird Thompson. No mention of any cherry being dealt, but you would take whatever lead you could get your hands on.

The park was a twenty minute walk from your apartment, but you decided to take a longer route so you could go down less populated streets. There was no way such a den of criminal activity would take kindly to someone in a mask, so it was all the more important for you to go about your business as unseen as possible.

You had only just turned onto Halyard Street when you heard it. The female scream stopped you in your tracks, and you quickly turned in the direction of the scream, sprinting towards a nearby alleyway when you heard another scream.

It didn’t take you too long to locate the source of the screams, running down winding alleyways until you came upon a man with a knife cornering a woman in a waitress uniform against the wall.

“Try somethin’ like that again and I ain’t gonna be so nice,” the man growled. He sounded drunk, which for the woman was likely terrifying, but made you feel more confident. Drunks were always easier to take down, the only issue being the knife in his hand.

The frightened woman didn’t have time for you to fully formulate a plan, so you decided to go on instinct this time, stepping out into the alleyway.

“Hey!” you called out, stepping forward into the light of a small overhead bulb above a rusty door.

The man jerked back, turning halfway to face you, the knife in his hand now pulled away from the woman, creating the perfect opportunity for you to strike without hurting the woman. In an instant, you stole the light from the bulb overhead, turning it into a short spear and sending it full-force at the hand that held the knife. As expected, the knife clattered to the floor as the spear impaled his hand, the man clutching his injured hand to his chest.

“Move!” you shouted at the woman, who used her attacker’s momentary distraction to slide out from behind him.

“Hey!” the man slurred. “Get… get back here you little bitch!”

He made a grab for the woman, but he was too slow, impaired by intoxication and pain. You dissolved the spear in his hand, quickly clicking on one of your belt flashlights to create a cage of light, using it to push the man against the wall. The mugger’s eyes were wide with panic, but the bars of light that surrounded him had no give even as he slammed against them.

Knowing he was trapped until you dissolved the light cage, you turned your attention to the woman. “Call the police. I’ll stay with you until they get here.”

“I…” She seemed stunned, taking a few seconds to right herself and pull her phone out of her purse to call the police. Hanging up after a short conversation, she finally broke, sliding to the floor as the mugger continued to angrily sputter at you both.

“The police will be here soon,” you said. “They’ll escort you home.”

“I just…” she sniffled. “If you hadn’t come… I thought I’d never see my son again.”

“You will,” you replied. “But maybe stick to well-lit streets from now on. No shortcut is worth the chance of running into creeps like him.”

“You’re right,” she murmured with a weary sigh. “I just want to go home.”

You could hear the sound of distant sirens getting closer. Must have been a slow night for such a fast police response.

As the sirens came to a stop nearby, you figured it was probably time for you to go. You hadn’t had many interactions with police before, but superheroism tended to be a gray area with them, and you would really prefer not to have a clash with police when you still had plans for tonight.

“Wait, where are you going?” the woman asked, looking frantically from you to the man.

“I’ll keep the cage up until the police get here, but I can’t stay,” you said. “You’ll be fine. They’ll take you home to your son.”

She nodded. “Thank you!”

You backed up as you heard footsteps rapidly approaching from the opposite end of the alleyway. Exiting the alley, you waited until the police were on the scene before dropping the cage, trusting the police to take care of the cleanup. The police chatter faded as you retraced your route through the alleys you had come through until you were back on Halyard Street, ready to continue onto the park.

You shivered, the outside air especially chilly at this time of night. You were almost to the park, just taking a shortcut through an alley behind a deli when you were startled by a sudden voice behind you.

“Maybe you should consider adding a cape to the costume to keep away the chill.”

You spun around, immediately on high alert, to see a masked man in black leaning against the grimy alley wall, his arms crossed over his chest in a very casual manner. His clearly-muscular body was clad in a tight black suit with a light blue V across his chest and shoulders, bands of that same blue just under his knees. Dark bangs swooped across his forehead, and below that a blue mask covered his upper face, some sort of material blocking his eyes from sight, just like yours were.

You took a step away from him, feeling wary. He didn’t look like any of the criminals native to the area that you had seen in your research before coming to Bludhaven, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

“White isn’t a great color to wear if you don’t want to stand out in this city,” he added, pushing himself off the wall and approaching you. “And not that I mind the view, but it may be smarter to wear a breastplate when you’re engaging with criminals.”

You looked briefly down at your jacket; you were aware it was decently low-cut, but what business of his was your hero outfit? And not that it would matter to him, but white happened to be the most reflective color, which was imperative for your powers to work at their full potential, not to mention–

You should probably save your internal ranting for later.

Shifting your weight to one hip, you frowned at the masked man. “Who are you and what do you want?”

He raised both hands in surrender, clearly picking up on your frosty mood. “Easy. I saw how you handled that mugger and wanted to introduce myself.”

“Who. Are. You?” you stressed, not feeling particularly patient around the mystery man.

He seemed mildly taken aback by your attitude, but recovered quickly, offering you a hand. “Nightwing. And you are…?”

His name didn’t ring any bells for you, and you resolved to google it later. You debated not answering him, but figured you could throw him one bone considering he hadn’t yet attacked you.

“Lightspear,” you answered, turning away from him and heading towards the park. You weren’t about to let some jerk in a mask distract you from what you had intended to do tonight.

Unfortunately for you, Nightwing wasn’t quite done pestering you, as he quickly caught up to you, walking by your side.

“I take it you’re new in town?” he asked as you both crossed onto the grass.

You sighed; he really didn’t want to take the hint. You didn’t need some guy, whoever he was, distracting you right now. He clearly wasn’t going to leave you alone, so you would have to break out a trick you hadn’t used since your junior year of college when you had to lose a creep who had tried to follow you home.

“Yep, brand new,” you answered, doing your best to sound innocent as you prepared to enact your plan.

“I could tell,” he said with a teasing smile. “Not many people move here. It’s usually the other way around.”

You slowed your steps as you got to the path that led into the park. Hoping you could still pull it off, you stilled as you reached the path, using ambient light to cloak yourself while projecting an illusion of yourself walking down the path with Nightwing, who seemed none the wiser. You would have to time this perfectly, waiting until he was further down the path before making your escape.

You knew that the illusion would disappear the moment it left your sight, so you quickly backed away, turning the corner and rushing into a gross-looking public bathroom. You knew that the fake you would be gone now, so you probably needed to wait out some time in here before heading home. Nightwing seemed awfully persistent, so you would have to resume your investigation another day.

You were glad you had thought ahead as you unzipped your jacket to promptly reverse it inside-out, the now-outer purple fabric looking like an entirely different jacket. Taking off your mask, you hid it in your bra before doing your best to style your hair a little differently.

By the time you were done trying to change your look enough, twenty minutes had passed. You wanted to get home, but began to second guess yourself; what if he was still out there trying to find you?

In the end, you had settled for calling a cab to take you home to keep yourself off the streets. The ride wasn’t cheap; the driver had wanted to go home after driving one too many groups of drunk partiers around, but you had managed to beg him into making you his last ride of the night.

You quickly dashed into your building, not seeing any masked men staking out your apartment but also not willing to risk any delay in getting back inside.

What a disappointing first patrol. All you had learned was that you weren’t the only person running around in a mask in this place, which was of exactly zero use to your drug investigation. If anything, it was a hindrance. You could only hope Nightwing would have something better to do the next time you were out patrolling.

It was a slow day at the library the next day, so you took advantage of the lack of patrons to do some research on the frustrating figure that had ruined your planned reconnaissance outing.

The internet, it seemed, was split on Nightwing. There were several articles, including a video interview with the mayor who referred to Nightwing as a menace. You also found several sources that even you found to be unfairly biased against the masked vigilante, including one where the reporter had itemized what he labelled Nightwing’s Property Damage Bill, listing everything the vigilante was believed to have damaged during fights. The list was surprisingly detailed, going back several years and leading you to wonder exactly what Nightwing had done to make this reporter hate him so much. He hadn’t exactly made a great first impression on you, but even you weren’t about to go waste your time writing long-winded hate articles about the guy.

On the other hand, there were also articles praising him, and no shortage of photos taken of him in action against one villain or another. He didn’t seem to be a bad guy, but clearly one that didn’t understand personal space.

You had also pretty quickly discovered the connection between him and Batman. You were embarrassingly unaware of heroes for someone who aimed to be one yourself, but even you had heard of Batman. His philosophy of avoiding causing death at all costs had really made an impression on you back in your early days of testing your powers. You were in this to prevent death after all, so killing criminals yourself made little sense. From what you could tell, Nightwing seemed to be the same way, but if you asked the Nightwing-hating reporter, he would likely have a list ready of every elderly person to ever have heart palpitations while watching a clip of Nightwing on the news.

Sure, he didn’t seem to be an awful guy, if your googling was anything to go on, but that didn’t mean you wanted him poking around in your investigation. You were trying to get to the source of the cherry, preferably without alerting whoever was behind it that you were coming after them, and by the look of him, Nightwing did not seem to understand the meaning of the term low profile. You would be just fine alone.

“That troublemaker done something new?” a cranky voice asked from behind you.

You turned to see Gertrude, or Gertie, as she insisted you call her, standing behind you, a frown on her wrinkled face. Gertie was the oldest, and coincidentally the strictest librarian on staff. For some reason she seemed to like you, a fact one of the cleaners had told you was highly unusual for her, and you would prefer to keep it that way after watching her lecture a patron who had brought a coffee cup in the library for a full twenty minutes earlier. And by the tone of her voice, you would have to come up with an excuse for your googling, and fast.

“No,” you dismissed, forcing a smile. “A patron came by earlier asking for help finding articles on Nightwing for an assignment, so I said I would have some articles to show them when they came back again after class.”

Gertie nodded approvingly as she looked over your shoulder at the window you had panic-alt-tabbed to, which happened to be the article with the property damage list. “You’ve got one of my personal favorites there. These masked maniacs need someone to hold them accountable for the damage they do to our beautiful city. I also enjoyed the article he wrote on the benefits of anti-vigilante hotlines. These so-called heroes do more damage to our society than criminals could ever dream of, you know.”

You politely nodded as you listened to her anti-hero rant, offhandedly wondering how she would react if she knew that she was currently talking to one of those masked maniacs she hated so much.

You were eventually saved by a man coming in eating a messy sandwich, which drew Gertie towards him like an uptight elderly moth to a flame. With a relived sigh, you quickly closed all of the Nightwing tabs on your computer, hoping that Gertie would forget all about him by the time she was done lecturing her newest victim.

Nightwing had to have better things to do than follow you a second time, you figured, but his appearance the first time was enough to inspire some caution in you. You were anxious to get back out there, to stop this dangerous drug before it could kill more people, but you forced the urge down and waited a full week before going out on another patrol. You hadn’t seen anything about Nightwing in the news, but hopefully he would be off fighting some intergalactic war or something. But as always as of late, you weren’t that lucky.

You had even taken a different path than the week previous, giving into your maybe-unfounded paranoia as you once again made your way to Melville Park. You were just about at the park, crossing over a small bridge, when your night was once again interrupted by a voice you had hoped to not hear again.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Shoulders sagging, you looked ahead to see a dark figure leaning against a tree, blue mask glinting in the moonlight. With a sigh, you turned around to leave the park. There were other places you could investigate if he had called dibs on this park or something.

“Hey, where are you going?” he called out, jogging to catch up to you.

“Anywhere else,” you groaned as he easily caught up to your side.

“What’s your problem?” he asked. “I feel like a door-to-door salesman with how often you keep slamming the metaphorical door in my face.”

You didn’t have time or patience for this banter right now. Another ruined night of patrol. Well, you would just have to give him the slip and try again later.

Walking from the bridge back onto the sidewalk, you cloaked yourself as you walked left, sending your illusionary self right. After you got home, you would be treating yourself to that slice of chocolate cheesecake in your fridge you had been saving. You deserved it for all the irritation you’d had to put up with lately.

Looking behind you as you turned the corner, you hadn’t expected the collision with someone coming from the other direction. Turning back as their hands gripped your arms to steady you, the sorry died on your lips as you discovered exactly who it was you had bumped into.

Your camouflage had broken in your surprise as you stared wide-eyed at a grinning Nightwing. He shouldn’t have been able to see you, even if your illusionary self had disappeared. You had practiced that technique for months to perfect it, so how–

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “But I promised myself I wasn’t going to fall for that trick a second time.”

With a frustrated growl, you wrenched your arms out of his grasp. “What is wrong with you?”

He raised an eyebrow, putting one hand to his chin in contemplation. “Are you looking for a serious answer, or…?”

“Why do you keep following me?” you hissed, anger and exasperation taking over. “I’m fine by myself!”

“Where have I heard that before…” he muttered to himself. “Listen, I see you’re clearly after something, and I can help. I know this city pretty well and–”

“How do you know I’m not some new villain?” you challenged, turning away from him. “You could be offering to help the next Joker right now.”

You had started to walk away from him again, but were stopped by him flipping through the air and landing directly in your path. You stopped still, not having expected that. The Nightwing-hating reporter had clearly failed to mention his acrobatic skills in his hate articles, the only mention of Nightwing’s athletic abilities that you could recall being one snide comment about him running from his civil liabilities. But just because he could do a backflip didn’t mean you wanted to bring anyone else in on your investigation, no matter how nice his ass looked in his skintight suit.

“Well, I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve got my number, so just give me a call if you want some backup.”

You opened your mouth to inform him that you did not in fact have his number, when he tossed something your way. You caught the object, looking down to see your phone in your hands, open to a contact page for Nightwing, complete with a photo of the man himself grinning at the camera. When had he–

“Think about it,” he said again, taking a step back from you. “Now I know when I’m not wanted, so just give me a call if you change your mind.”

With a last smile, he shot out his wrist, some sort of rope projectile shooting out from somewhere on his arm and pulling him up onto a building and out of sight, leaving you with a last look forward to hearing from you, Lightspear!

You huffed, turning back to return to the park. You doubted that you would have need of that masked stalker’s help any time soon, but if it would keep him off your back, you would keep his contact info in your phone for now.

Stowing your phone back in your pocket, you crossed back over the bridge, passing the tree that no longer had a Nightwing leaning against it. Hopefully he kept his word and stayed out of your business this time.

You did a slow walk around the park, trying to make sure you didn’t miss anything. The park was very empty, the only thing of note being a fat raccoon digging through some trash, at least until you began to approach the parking lot.

At first, you didn’t see anything, not until you were about to walk past the lot, stopping in your tracks as you noticed a shock of red against the gray of the asphalt. Creeping closer, you discovered that the red you had seen was from a hoodie, worn by a bedraggled-looking man standing opposite a man in a leather jacket. The two looked to be having some sort of disagreement, which prompted you to move even closer, taking up a position behind a dumpster in order to listen in.

“C’mon, you know I’m good for the money,” the guy in the red hoodie begged. “My sister will spot me the cash when she gets in tomorrow from Phillie. I just… I just need a fix. Even a little one. Please.”

You could only see the back of the other man from where you were hiding, but by his staunch posture and the stiffness in his shoulders, he didn’t seem to be moved by the man’s pleas.

“I sell to junkies, Gene, not broke junkies,” the dealer replied unsympathetically. “You want charity? Go to the Salvation Army.”

“I’ll give you double on payday, just please man–”

This was getting hard to listen to, and you weren’t the only one to think so.

“Stop groveling!” the dealer demanded, letting out an irritated huff. “If you’ll leave me alone, I’ll give you something for a quick high.”

Your eyes narrowed at the dealer’s words, but you were still having a hard time seeing much from your position behind him. You would have to get closer. Just as you were scoping out a place to hide that would give you a better view of the scene, the dealer’s next words stopped you in your tracks.

“This is only a sample, but you shouldn’t need more. Remember, you asked for it,” the dealer said, pulling something out of his jacket pocket.

“Is it some kinda X?” Gene asked, eagerly taking the proffered pill from the dealer.

“Better,” the dealer answered, sounding cagey. “Lower high, bigger crash. But it’s what I got for non-paying customers. Take it or leave it.”

“Can I get one more, to last till my sister gets into town?” Gene asked.

“You won’t need more than one,” the dealer said gruffly. “Cherry hits ya harder than a whole fistful of X.”

There it was, the confirmation that this move to Bludhaven hadn’t been a mistake. You weren’t about to let what happened to Kamila’s brother happen to someone else if you had the power to stop it.

Leaping out from behind the dumpster, you quickly got in a position where you could clearly see the shiny red circular pill in Gene’s palm, his hand raised halfway towards his mouth. Unwilling to give him the chance to kill himself, you snatched the light from a nearby streetlight, using a small amount of it to zap the pill in his hand out of existence.

Gene yelped, falling back onto his butt in shock, but the dealer was quicker to react, taking one look at you before fleeing through the parking lot and towards the direction you had come from.

You stopped momentarily to address the still-stunned Gene. “Cherry are death pills. When your sister gets here tomorrow, ask her to help you check into rehab and get some help, Gene.”

You couldn’t waste any more time, turning and leaving Gene behind to chase after the dealer, who was now most of the way across the parking lot. You ran after him, lights winking out as you collected light as you ran. He got all the way to the bridge before you struck, using a chunk of your stored light to create a wall to block the dealer from exiting the bridge.

You tossed a spear of light at him, which pinned him back against the wall by the shoulder of his jacket. Using his surprise to your advantage, you quickly followed up with more spears until he was securely pinned against the wall of light by his clothes. He struggled vainly against the bindings, but you knew they would hold.

It seemed like he was able to throw most of his supply into the water before you could stop him, which was frustrating, but it wasn’t his supply that you were after.

“Where did you get the cherry?” you asked, doing your best to sound intimidating.

The dealer was shaking, refusing to make eye contact. You didn’t have to be an expert to know that this man was not the source of the cherry. Everything from his patchy beard to his lack of weapons screamed low level drug dealer, but that didn’t mean you were letting him off easy.

“Where did you get it?” you shouted, materializing an especially sharp-looking spear in your hand and taking a step towards him.

The threat was enough.

“A lady! She gave ‘em to me!” he cried out. “Told me to give ‘em to anyone givin’ me trouble!”

“Did she tell you they kill whoever takes them within a day?” you asked, the lack of surprise in his face giving you your answer. “She did, and you didn’t care.”

“Just kill me already,” he sneered. “Spare me the moral lecture.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” you said. “Not if you tell me who the woman is.”

You weren’t going to kill him either way, but he didn’t need to know that. Not like he had a lot of options right now anyways, pinned to your light wall like a well-used pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey game.

“I don’t know!” he wailed. “She wore a mask!”

You sighed. Of course it wouldn’t just be that easy. You couldn’t say you weren’t expecting the pushback, but you needed something to go off of from this lead.

“A name,” you demanded. “Give me her name and I’ll leave you alone.”

“She didn’t tell me her real name!” he replied, eyes on your spear as you brought it closer to him. “Called herself Parasis, but she didn’t tell me any actual name, I swear–”

That would work. You dissolved the spear in your hand, and the man slumped against the wall of light in relief.

You stepped back, reaching down to pick up the dealer’s cellphone from where it had fallen to the ground in his haste to ditch his drugs. Ignoring the dealer’s sputtering, you swiped up on the screen, selecting the option to make an emergency call.

“Hi, I made a citizen’s arrest on a drug dealer in Melville Park, by the south bridge,” you told the person at the dispatch who had answered, purposefully making your voice higher than it was normally. You weren’t about to risk any issues if this call got played on the news later when this low-level dealer likely squealed to the police about your existence.

After confirming they were sending someone, you hung up the phone before tossing it into the water and making to leave the bridge.

“You can’t just leave me here!” the dealer snarled. “You said–”

“I said I would leave you alone, not the police,” you corrected, turning back to face him with a stern look on your face. “You’re lucky I’m not doing worse. You don’t really seem to care, but you almost killed someone tonight just because they were annoying you. A jail cell to reflect in for a few weeks is the least I can do for you.”

The man wasn’t fazed by your words, as you figured he wouldn’t be. But you weren’t done with him just yet. Taking up a position behind a tree, you kept up his light prison, watching him struggle and shout fruitlessly until a pair of Bludhaven police officers showed up. You waited until they had approached the bound man before dissolving the light, watching the officers cuff the man before slinking away.

Walking into a more heavily wooded area of the park, you did your usual de-costuming process, returning to the streets looking less like a superhero and more like a worker getting off the late shift. You would really need to start hiding a bag of nondescript clothing somewhere on patrol nights.

You returned to your apartment tired, but determined. You had a lead now, a real lead. You had never heard of Parasis before, but that wasn’t a surprise. There were always new small-time villains coming onto the scene all the time, so it was hard to keep up with who was doing what on the villain scene.

A quick google search on Parasis told you nothing. In fact, google had assumed that you had made a typo, since all the results were talking about paralysis. The only results for Parasis exactly were some obscure company websites that were clearly not relevant, unless small French engineering firms were suddenly interested in operating a drug ring in Bludhaven.

Closing your laptop, you tried not to feel discouraged. Sitting back down on your bed, you decided to review what you knew.

As far as you were currently aware, the person at the head of the spread of cherry was a woman going by the name of Parasis. Cherry, a drug in pill form notable for both its twenty-four hour time from consumption to death as well as its notable side effect of leaving the whites of its victim’s eyes cherry red in the last stage before death had begun in your city, but seemed to have originated somewhere in Bludhaven. And lastly, so far the victims seemed to be exclusively ordinary drug addicts, supplied by low-level drug dealers given a supply of the drug by Parasis.

Nothing about this made any sense to you, which meant that you were probably missing something important. Parasis clearly didn’t care about having a real drug empire, otherwise she wouldn’t be killing off potential customers. But if dealing drugs wasn’t the goal, then what was?

Well at the very least, you had a name to ask around about now, and all thanks to your own hard work! You were fully capable of investigating on your own, at least now that Nightwing had agreed to leave you alone. You knew that you could handle things by yourself, and now that you had a lead, you were going to prove it.

After that, you had hit the ground running, spending every night interrogating drug dealers about the mysterious Parasis. Most had no idea what you were talking about, at least until Thursday evening, where you had miraculously come upon a larger-scale drug deal between a gang leader and some casino owner you had read about in an article on corruption in the Bludhaven gambling industry recently.

As much as you would have liked to have them all arrested, you had to keep in mind the sheer number of guns in the area. The gang leader had seemed rather nonchalant when you had inquired about Parasis, agreeing to give you information on her if you left him to his business in return. Feeling somewhat conflicted, you had agreed to his deal; you could come after him when you had taken care of the cherry issue first.

He had given you a location and a time, telling you he had already intended not to make any deals with Parasis, stating your earlier hypothesis that he would prefer his customers to be alive to sell more drugs to. He told you that you would be doing him a favor taking her out, and to let him know if there was a pay-per-view option to watch you girlies fight it out. The last comment had drawn raucous laughter at your expense from his men, but you forced yourself to ignore it, instead leaving with the information and the mental note that the drug boss was now officially next on your list after Parasis.

The Gulvern Shipping Company warehouse, just over Littleneck Marrows Bridge in South Bludhaven. Friday at eight P.M. If the gang leader’s information was correct, then Parasis would be waiting there with a pallet of little red death pills.

Considering all you had to do was sit back and wait until Friday, you found yourself surprised at just how your Friday was turning out.

First you had woken up late, and in your haste had spilled your breakfast all over your hero costume that you had laid out the night before. With no time to spare, you rushed off to work, where you began to genuinely wonder if there was something in the water to account for how many rude patrons had come and go in the library all day. You hadn’t even gotten to your lunch break, taking off for it early when an elderly man who had previously been yelling at you over a book he had damaged suddenly switched gears, inquiring how a girl like you isn’t married, as well as informing you that if you were his wife, you would know not to dress like such a whore. How capri business pants and a long-sleeved blouse were too risqué for him was beyond you, but you couldn’t take him anymore. Passing by Gertie on your way to the staff room, you informed her of the situation and she gleefully rushed over to give the old creep a lecture over the damaged book that would likely make him wish she was sending him to an early grave.

Your afternoon had been occupied with less sexist, but not particularly less draining patron interactions. Three classes of elementary schoolers had come in for a project, leaving you to try and keep them from yelling, running and throwing books at each other while trying to answer questions from regular patrons. Your day had been one exhausting mess, and it wasn’t even close to over.

After taking a much-needed after-work nap to try and regain your strength for your appointment with Parasis later, you woke up to find your costume jacket fixable, but your pants stained beyond anything you could fix without the help of an emergency dry cleaner.

Left with no choice, you were forced to substitute the stained pants for the only other suitable white piece of clothing in your wardrobe… a flowy white miniskirt. Reminding yourself that this was only for tonight, you zipped up your jacket, purple side facing out, mask and phone in your pockets, and headed out, resolving to bring your pants to the dry cleaner first thing tomorrow.

Catching a cab to South Bludhaven, you mentally readied yourself for the fast-approaching conversation. You had bought some new mini-flashlights on your way home from work, so you would definitely have enough power to take on a wannabe drug dealer.

As you stepped out of the taxi, you could feel your nerves beginning to creep up on you, but pushed them back down. You were more than capable of handling this, and you needed to end this before it got a chance to take off. Before more people died.

The Gulvern Shipping Company warehouse wasn’t difficult to find, especially if you were searching for a perfect place to make deadly drug deals in secret. Looking out at the large gray building, you couldn’t imagine anyone wouldn’t choose it in a police lineup of suspicious warehouses.

There were no other warehouses near this one, the closest one a five-minute walk away. Near the entrance to the warehouse sat a sleek red car with its plates removed, only adding to the sheer amount of suspiciousness that this place radiated. If you had somehow still been unsure, the large rusty sign above the door confirmed that you were exactly where you needed to be. Donning your full costume, you went in.

The building looked abandoned long before Parasis must have taken up residence here, overgrown plant life creeping up and around the outer walls. At least the front door still worked.

Pulling open the heavy door, you crept inside to find a small entranceway, an old dusty security desk off to one side. The building was silent from what you could tell, and so you continued onward, into the hall and down some stairs that led towards a dark grey door with a sign whose letters had worn away with age.

You suppressed a shudder as you approached the door, a sudden cold chilling your exposed skin. This was clearly the place, you confirmed to yourself as you put a hand to the cold doorknob, summoning a spear of light to your other hand. Should you open the door slow or fast? Not wanting to take too long to think on it, you settled for continuing your previous stealthy approach as it had been working for you so far.

The door opened with a regrettably loud creak, but you were in. Slipping inside the room, you found yourself in what looked oddly like the jungle area of a zoo. Vines wound up the walls, across the floors an around a smattering of broad-leafed plants. There were several machines in the room, but they didn’t look like they had been used in a while, if the plant life dipping in and around them was any indication. What would a shipping company, or a drug operation for that matter even want with an abandoned factory so destroyed by plant life that the machines were no longer usable? Cheap rent?

You were forced to shift your focus away from the plants as you spotted a figure on the other side of the room who seemed to be engaged with her cellphone.

You could only see her from the back, but it was clearly a woman, clad in a black suit with sickly green lighting-shaped bolts going down her arms and sides. She had long dark hair, pulled back into a thick braid that hung down her back, as well as green thigh-high boots on her legs, the same shade as the accents on her costume. Nobody had described her to you beyond mentioning that she wore a mask, but this had to be Parasis.

Moving closer, you considered your options. There was another door on the side of the room, but you were pretty confident that you could stop her before she could escape to it. There were quite a few machines in the room, but none were large enough to effectively hide yourself behind unless you laid on the floor. It seemed like the stealthy approach had run its course, so you walked forward, stopping twenty feet behind Parasis, the spear in your hand glowing brightly.

“Parasis!” you shouted, and the figure whipped around in surprise.

The word mask did not really do it justice. It looked like the visor of a motorcycle helmet, except it covered her entire face. The section from her nose to hairline was the same green as her boots, and was opaque, while the lower half of the mask was translucent and tinted black, allowing you a rough look at her lips and lower face.

Despite being unnerved by the creepy mask, you took another step forward. “I know you’re the one responsible for the cherry outbreak. I’m asking you nicely to stop, if you’re not going to turn yourself in.”

Parasis laughed. “Cute. That line ever work?”

You frowned at the modulated voice coming from the mask. For her information, it had worked several times on purse snatchers back in your hometown, but it wasn’t like you were expecting her to surrender to arrest just like that. You had maintained, perhaps foolishly, a policy of giving criminals one chance before arresting them yourself. You maybe needed to stop watching so many Disney movies, you thought to yourself. The hard approach it was then.

“You know those things kill people, right?” you asked, moving closer. “People who have families and people who love them.”

She scoffed. “That’s what they’re designed to do.”

“Why?” you persisted. “If you wanted to run a drug empire–”

“Please,” she dismissed. “Don’t bore me with the economics lesson. I’m not in this for the money, although I am finding it to be a perk. I’m doing this for good old-fashioned revenge.”

“Revenge?” you echoed. “On who?”

She didn’t answer, standing still as she stared you down.

With a frustrated huff, you expanded your spear, taking the light from overhead and combining them to create a cage of light around Parasis, who to your surprise seemed unfazed.

“So your little glow stick wasn’t just for show,” she remarked. “Almost makes my efforts worth it.”

“Your–?”

“You think I didn’t know you were after me?” she asked mockingly. “You can’t shake down every drug dealer in town without word getting back to me, you know. You don’t really think the leader of the biggest gang in the city just gives up my information out for free, do you?”

Your eyes widened. She had set you up?

“From where I’m standing, only one of us has been caged,” you countered, trying not to let her see your shaking confidence.

“Oh really?” Parasis teased, a cruel undertone in her voice that made you feel tense. “From here, all I see is a naïve little hero girl that’s about to learn just how out of her depths she really is.”

“What?” you said, before your train of thought was scrambled as you were grabbed from behind and lifted into the air.

Whipping your head around, you found that you had been picked up by one of the thick vines that had previously been wrapped around a nearby conveyor belt. Looking down at Parasis, you found her in the exact same position, still trapped in the prison of light. She didn’t seem to be the one making these plants move, but then who, or what was?

Snatching the light from a wrap light above you, you sent a sickle of sharp light towards yourself, which easily sliced through the vine that held you, sending you falling back down to the floor. The injured plant withdrew quickly, convulsing as it went as if crying silently in pain.

Turning to face the mess of plants, you followed their trail to the side wall where they all seemed to have originated from. You hadn’t noticed any movement there before, but now the wall seemed to be writhing, before the vines parted and a woman stepped out at the same time that you heard a loud click as the lights went out.

The room was pitch black now, your least favorite condition for a fight. The only lights in the room were the cage behind you and the crescent of light above your head that you quickly called back to yourself. Taking a quick look back, you saw Parasis still caged, so you instead turned your attention towards the woman that was still out there in the darkness.

“You hurt my plants,” a woman’s voice purred from the dark.

You turned the sickle into a ball of light, expanding it as much as you could before sending it out in the direction of the voice.

The light showed you the same machines you had seen before, at least until it reached the middle of the room, abruptly stopping it in place when it nearly collided with the mystery woman, who you realized with horror that you recognized.

How could you have been so stupid? You realized now that the plants in the room were clearly not naturally-occurring, but you had never imagined that the source of the plants would be her.

Poison Ivy. You had heard about her, but were under the impression that she operated out of Gotham City. Not that Bludhaven was that far from Gotham, but still, you could never have imagined that not only would this investigation be your first of this scale, but also involve your first clash with such a well-known criminal.

Poison Ivy stood still, unbothered by the ball of light that illuminated her green-tinted skin and leafy bodysuit, her fiery red hair so distinctive in contrast that you couldn’t possibly mistake her for anyone else. But what did Poison Ivy want with a drug operation?

You took a step forward, and the plants around her responded in kind, slithering past her and towards you. You called back your ball of light in response, turning it into a spear as you prepared yourself for a fight.

“Go,” Ivy commanded from the dark, and the plants rushed to obey her command, all surging rapidly towards you.

You were able to slice through the first few vines that came at you, but your lack of experience in a real fight was quickly catching up to you. Each vine you sliced drained more and more of your energy as you desperately tried to keep on top of the onslaught of plants coming at you.

You were panting heavily as you cut an incoming vine in half, hunching over for a moment to try and catch your breath, giving Ivy the opportunity to snatch the upper hand. Before you could react, a thick vine darted out from behind you, wrapping tightly around your neck and cutting off your already-shallow breathing.

You let go of your spear to claw desperately at your neck, trying to pry the vine off with little success. It only seemed to get tighter and tighter with each passing second as your vision began to get more and more black. Finally, as you were on the verge of passing out, the vine let go and you fell forward onto the floor, gasping for breath.

You heard footsteps behind you, realizing that you were now in total darkness. In your struggle with the vine, your concentration had been broken, dissolving both your spear and the cage that had held Parasis.

You reached down to click on one of your flashlights, but were stopped by what you assumed to be a vine snatching you by the ankle, quickly ensnaring you and suspending you upside down from the ceiling. As you struggled, a second vine bound your hands tightly behind your back, leaving you in pure darkness with very little ability to move, and no light. Breathing heavily from the effort, you tried to figure out where the two women were beneath you, but the darkness was absolute.

“Nature triumphs all,” Ivy sneered. “You were foolish to think you could take me on and win.”

“Took you long enough,” Parasis’ modulated voice replied, the sound echoing across the room. “Now are we ready to complete the process?”

“I am,” Ivy replied. “We can begin synthesizing.”

“Excellent,” Parasis replied, before turning her attention back to you. “You picked a bad day to come see me, Lightspear. You wanted cherry so bad? Now you’ll be test subject number one for the newest strain.”

You shuddered, shocked silent as their footsteps moved away from you and towards the side door. You were granted a sliver of light as the door was opened and closed, but it was too fast for you to grab before you were plunged back into darkness.

You tried to struggle against your binds, but Ivy had been true to her promise; you would not be able to escape them, not without using your powers. Why had you been so confident this was going to go well? Now that you were staring imminent and likely painful death in the face, all you could think about was how dumb you were to think you had a chance here, and now you would pay for your hubris with your life, alone and far from help.

You couldn’t hear anything from the room where Ivy and Parasis were, though they had made it abundantly clear what they intended to do with their time in there, but… a new strain of cherry? Wasn’t the original one deadly enough? Or was death within twenty-four hours too long for Parasis? You supposed you would likely find out soon.

Your moping was interrupted by a short buzz from your zippered jacket pocket. You rolled your eyes; it was probably just a notification from a mobile game, not like that would help you right now. Although the reminder of your cellphone did bring up a sudden idea as you recalled that you had a virtual assistant software on your phone right now. It had auto-activated from your last phone update, and you had kept meaning to shut it off, but had forgotten. If you could turn it on, you could call the police and–

With a bitter sting in your chest, you dismissed the idea. If the police showed up here, you would probably be arrested as well… arrested and unmasked. There was no way the Bludhaven P.D. would pass up a chance to make you an example for their crusade against masked vigilantism. But was being unmasked really a worse option than being force-fed a death pill?

You were being stupid; of course living was the better option. Maybe you could even try and escape the police once you had access to light again, since they would assumedly turn the lights on when they arrived.

You called out to activate your phone’s digital assistant, about to ask it to call the police when another thought occurred to you… there was one number in your phone that could both save you from death and keep you from being unmasked for the masses.

A rush of shame washed over you at the realization that your best chance for rescue was the masked vigilante that you had somewhat rudely told off last week, the same one you had insisted to that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself… this was going to be so humiliating.

As you opened your mouth, the thought occurred to you; what if he didn’t answer? Or refused to come, laughed at you and hung up? It’s not like you deserved any better after treating him like a fly buzzing around your face. But as frustrating as it was, he was your best shot at seeing tomorrow alive, so you forced yourself to just get on with it.

“Call Nightwing,” you instructed your phone, unsure if you were feeling woozy from shame or the blood rushing to your head from hanging upside down.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up, the answering male voice muffled slightly by the fabric of your jacket.

“Hello?” The voice sounded slightly strained, but it was definitely Nightwing’s voice.

You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to have to do this, but desperation forced your tongue to move.

“Nightwing, it’s Lightspear,” you said, wincing at how awful your voice sounded. “I need your help.”

“Where are you?” he asked, voice seemingly going into hero mode, shifting to sounding deadly serious.

“The Gulvern Shipping Warehouse in South Bludhaven. I came after Parasis, but Poison Ivy was here too. They said they’ve made a new strain of cherry and they’re going to test it on me,” you babbled, knowing he likely wouldn’t understand half of what you were saying but unable to stop the words from coming out. Why were you even doing this? It was obvious he would just brush you off like you had done to him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking for your help. I’ll just handle it myself somehow–”

“I can be there in fifteen minutes,” Nightwing interrupted. “Ten if I break a few speed limits.”

“Wait, really?” you asked, shocked. “You don’t–”

“Stop,” he said sternly, your mouth obediently shutting. “I’m on my way. Stay calm until I get there.”

The call cut off and then you were alone again in the darkness. If you got out of this, then you would owe Nightwing a huge apology. Now you just had to hope that he would get here before the two women were done synthesizing the new strain of cherry.

Nightwing’s soon-to-be arrival renewed your spirits, though you were still dreading having to face him. You struggled with your bindings in earnest, but found them still too tough to break free from. To add onto your stress, you could begin to hear strange noises from the side room; shrill, mechanical whirrs followed by a fizzing noise. You silently wished for whatever machine they were using to have some mechanical issue, at least until Nightwing got here to save your sorry ass.

You had closed your eyes, trying to abate the increasing dizziness that you were feeling, when you heard a noise from across the room. Snapping your eyes open, your fear turned to relief when you saw it was the door across from you that had opened, a familiar dark silhouette standing in the doorway.

“Nightwing!” you whispered to yourself as he entered the room and you lost sight of him to the darkness. Part of you had doubted that he would really come, but here he was.

“Lightspear?” he called from somewhere ahead of you.

“I’m here!” you called back in a hushed tone, not wanting to alert the two women in the side room that help had arrived. “They tied me up. Can you turn on the lights?”

You didn’t hear a response, or any footsteps, but a few moments later there was an electric buzz as the lights flickered on, illuminating Nightwing by the power switch by the door. He approached you, and you figured you should fill him in before the women noticed something was up.

“I’ve been investigating a drug called cherry and traced it here to a woman called Parasis. She set me up so she could catch me and use her new strain of cherry on me. Her and Ivy are in the next room and–”

You trailed of as you realized that Nightwing was just standing there, more silent than you had ever seen him. Was he even listening to what you were saying?

“Um, Nightwing?” you spoke up, unsure of what was wrong with him.

He snapped out of it at your call of his name, and you weren’t sure if it was the blood draining to your head or if you were really seeing a hint of red to his cheeks.

“Your, uh, costume…”

You couldn’t tell where exactly he was looking thanks to his mask, but you looked up at your costume, only to realize with horror just what he had been so distracted by. You hadn’t noticed the draft on your thighs, too consumed by your likely-imminent death, but you realized now that you probably should have been more selective when choosing a replacement article of clothing for your lower half.

The white miniskirt had looked good in the mirror before you had left, but was looking considerably less good now that it had flipped up, exposing the embarrassingly lacy white thong you usually wore under your costume pants to avoid panty lines. You thought there couldn’t possibly be any more blood rushing to your face, but the sudden dose of embarrassment was burning your cheeks up and was really not helping with your current case of light-headedness.

Suddenly filled with a desperate need to have this mortifying moment come to an end, you winked out a nearby light, sending a sharp blade of light slicing through the thick vine holding you upside down, cutting right through the plant. Unfortunately in your desperation, you had not fully thought your plan through. You were no longer suspended upside down, but were now falling towards the floor, your hands and ankles still tightly bound.

Before you could even scream, you were swiftly caught by Nightwing.

“Careful,” he scolded gently, and you were almost too overwhelmed by being upright again to be embarrassed by your current predicament.

Shifting you to one arm, he reached his other hand down, pulling a bat-shaped piece of metal from his belt. You were wary as he brought one sharp metal edge towards you, unable to fully relax until he had used it cut through the vines that were binding your ankles. Setting you down on your feet, he was about to cut the vines binding your hands behind your back, but was interrupted by the side door slamming open.

“Again you have harmed my precious plants,” Ivy sneered as she stormed into the room, Parasis right behind her. “I think you’ll find I’m even less forgiving the second time.”

“Nightwing… you’ve made a mistake coming here,” Parasis taunted as she stepped forward, an odd-looking glove on one hand that was definitely not there before.

“I don’t know about that,” he retorted. “I’d say that running a drug operation is more of a mistake than simple trespassing.”

Parasis scoffed. “So nice of another hero to come all the way here just to die.”

With that, the two women went into action, enraged plants shooting towards you and Nightwing. You retreated clumsily backwards, hands still bound behind your back, as you tried to shake off the numbness in your lower body.

While you stumbled around, Nightwing went on the offensive, grabbing one of the small rods that were slotted on his back before flipping through the air and easily closing the distance between himself and Ivy. You were frozen with amazement as you watched him smoothly dodge the plants that swung at him, pulling off moves you couldn’t even recall seeing in high-level gymnastics. He had scaled that wall before, but you hadn’t realized that wasn’t even close to the true level of acrobatic ability he possessed.

You really wanted to be of some help, but it was hard to do too much with your head feeling fuzzy and your hands bound behind you. You still had the sickle of light you had used to free yourself, so you decided to deal with your arms later and sent the sickle through plants that tried to attack Nightwing, who was still fighting to get closer to Ivy. You would prefer to have your hands free, but without vision behind your back, you were risking injury if you tried to cut it blind, and helping Nightwing was more important for now.

Nightwing and Ivy were now battling it out in the center of the room, his handheld sticks now alight with electricity. You helped him out the best you could, but in your inexperience, you had forgotten about one important thing, one that was about to make itself known to you.

You cried out as your hair was tugged from behind, falling back onto your bound hands, head stinging from hitting it against the hard floor. You looked up to see Parasis standing over you, a smirk just visible through the dark filter of the lower half of her mask.

“Forgot about our little deal?” she taunted.

You squirmed to sit up on your knees, trying to put as much distance between you and her as possible. “I don’t make deals with psychos!”

“…Psycho?” she echoed, stepping closer to you as you continued to retreat as fast as you could while still being on your knees. “I’m a visionary. I am removing the filth from this world. Some people don’t deserve the life they were given.”

“Why are you so worried about what drug addicts are doing?” you asked, trying to stall for some time as you were quickly running out of room to move backwards.

Parasis let out a cruel laugh, raising her hand, a suspicious red glow on her new glove unnerving you. “They’re inefficient. I’m just helping them kill themselves faster to save everyone the time.”

“They have families–”

“Who are better off!” she roared angrily. “Just like this city will be when I test my new mix on you.”

“You don’t have to…” you trailed off, staring at the glinting metal of her glove. Without the use of your hands, it would be difficult to get yourself standing or effectively wield a light weapon, and that wasn’t including the fact that you were being cornered by an able-bodied villain who had absolutely no issue with putting you down right here. You were so, so fucked.

Parasis’ glove was pointed straight at you now, and it felt like you were staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. You didn’t want to just accept your death, but what could you do? Anything you could attempt right now would be too slow to save your life.

“Bye hero girl,” Parasis sneered, jerking her pointer finger and activating her glove’s mechanism.

“Lightspear!”

You had been too shocked to close your eyes or turn your head, so you were able to see the black blur as it dashed in front of you, taking the brunt of the red liquid that shot out from Parasis’ glove.

“What a good boy, taking a bullet meant for someone else,” Parasis sneered. “Too bad you’ll have to die now.”

“Nightwing!” you shouted as he staggered for a moment before falling to the ground.

“Looks like I’m all out of cherry,” Parasis smirked. “I’ll have more for the next time we meet, Lightspear. Too bad about your little savior.”

Parasis’ heels clacked as she walked away, and you watched Poison Ivy join her in fleeing the room. The sound of the door slamming behind them snapped you out of your trance as you quickly shuffled to the prone vigilante before you.

Pulling at the vines that bound you, you were surprised when they easily broke apart, freeing your arms at last. Looking around, you found that it was a similar case with the rest of the plants in the room; it was as if Ivy herself had sustained their life, leaving them brittle and dead with her exit. But right now, you had much bigger worries than Ivy’s strange influence over plants.

“Nightwing!” you cried out, flipping him over so his head rested in your lap. “Nightwing, are you okay?”

His only response was a weak groan, which was not incredibly reassuring. The self-sacrificing idiot had jumped in front of you and gotten a full dose of the new-and-improved cherry right to the face. This iteration seemed to skip the initial high of the pill form, going straight into the end stages, if his current condition was anything to go by.

You had to do something. The only reason you were not in his position right now was because he had come and saved you, twice now. If anything, he should’ve stayed out of it and let you suffer the consequences of your poor decision-making.

You didn’t know what to do. There had been no cure for cherry discovered yet, and certainly none for a new, faster-acting version of the deadly drug. There was little chance Parasis had left an antidote here, especially considering they had just synthesized the liquid form of the drug only twenty minutes or so ago. Your best chance would be to get him out of here and try and find someone to help before he succumbed to the drug.

Thinking on your feet, you created a large board of light, maneuvering Nightwing onto it before lifting in into the air like a makeshift stretcher. You were thankful for your powers, or else you would have no way of carrying the densely-muscled hero out of here.

You rushed to the door, hauling the unconscious Nightwing into the hallway and out the front door of the warehouse. Exiting out into the cold night air, you found that the red car that had been parked out here was now gone, in its place a high-tech-looking black motorcycle with bright blue accents running down its sides. Didn’t really take a genius to figure out who the bike belonged to, but he wasn’t in any shape to drive a motorcycle, and you had no idea how to operate one yourself.

You approached the bike anyways, the advanced-looking control screen on the bike giving you a stupid but desperate idea. You had heard of Batman having all manner of advanced technologies, and if Nightwing was as associated with him as the news claimed him to be, then maybe this bike had some way to contact Batman. It was a daunting task, calling Batman to let him know that one of his allies was dying because of you, but you had to do whatever you could to save Nightwing’s life right now.

Keeping Nightwing suspended on the plank of light beside you, you prodded at the bike’s touch screen, watching as a symbol not unlike the one on Nightwing’s chest appeared on the screen. You waited a moment more, but nothing else appeared, so you decided to try pressing on the symbol and started talking.

“Hi, um, if this connects to Batman, I need his help. I’m with Nightwing, and he’s been poisoned with a drug called cherry. He’s doing really bad right now and I don’t know how long he has. If you could just–”

“May I ask who is speaking?” a distinctly-not-Batman-sounding male voice replied from the screen.

You were momentarily stunned, having a hard time believing your stupid plan had connected you with anyone.

“Lightspear,” you answered. “Nightwing came to help me and took a dose of cherry meant for me. He’s unconscious, and I don’t know what to do.”

“You are the young lady with the light powers?” the voice clarified. At your assent, he continued. “Very well. Can you maneuver Master Nightwing onto the motorcycle?”

“But I don’t know how to drive it!” you protested.

“That will not be a problem, miss. If you can get both of you onto the motorcycle, then I can remotely pilot it from here.”

“You… okay,” you agreed reluctantly.

Bringing Nightwing to the bike, you got on first before using the light board to shuffle his body onto the bike just behind you. For extra security, you shaped the board into a railing of sorts, placing the makeshift light rails to Nightwing’s sides and back to keep him from falling off the bike.

“Okay, we’re on,” you told the man in the control panel.

“Alright,” he replied. “I implore you to hold on tightly. Batman will be ready for your arrival.”

“Thank you,” you said as the voice cut out and the bike started up before tearing out of the warehouse district and heading onto the highway.

You would have been more terrified, considering this was your first time ever being on any motorcycle, let alone one this fast, but your worry for Nightwing kept your motorcycle anxiety at bay. He was slumped against you, his body temperature dangerously high. As the bike continued to speed along the road, you tried to recall all you could about the stages of symptoms cherry victims underwent, wanting to be prepared when you arrived wherever you were going.

From what you could remember from police interviews with victims they had gotten to before they died, it started with a few-hour-long high that then turned into a high fever and persistent dehydration and nausea. The end stages were the worst, the victim’s body wracked with convulsions, the whites of their eyes turning a cherry red. The red eyes were a sure sign that the person was in the very last stage, the effect persisting even after death. You recalled that Kamila’s brother’s funeral had been open casket, at the family’s insistence, but a strip of cloth had been placed over Emile’s eyes as the mortician had been unable to close them after his death.

Though Nightwing had been doused with a liquid form of cherry, so there was no telling how his symptoms would spiral from here. You already knew he had skipped the high stage, if his enhanced body temperature and unconsciousness was anything to go by, but how much time did that leave him with? You were trying not to think of the worst, but this was a drug with a zero percent survival rate so far, which didn’t leave a lot of room for much hope. You would have to believe that Batman would have some way to save Nightwing.

You left Bludhaven, passing by the Welcome to Gotham sign and speeding through the outskirts of Gotham City using various back roads. You mentally thanked whoever was driving this thing; the last thing you wanted right now was to drive by violence-hungry criminals that would love nothing more than to take a piece out of two masked heroes, especially with one already down for the count.

The bike veered away from the city, heading towards a more grassy area of Gotham, which confused you. The confusion turned into alarm as you realized you were driving full speed at the side of a rocky hill. Had the person driving lost control of the bike?

Bracing yourself for a crash, you were surprised when instead a section of the rock opened a formerly-invisible door, allowing you safe passage into the rock. You rocketed down an incline before coming to a stop on a large circular platform beside a series off what must have been different iterations of the Batmobile.

Footsteps on the metal floor made you look up, your body freezing up when you saw Batman approaching you, a tall older man in a suit at his side.

“How is he?” Batman asked, and you were trying to make your mouth move, but then the man next to him spoke up and you realized that the question hadn’t been directed at you.

“Not well, sir. Scan of his vitals shows extremely elevated temperature, and his pulse is highly irregular. We must get him into the lab immediately.”

Batman approached the motorcycle, the older man pulling a stretcher with him as they both came to a stop before you. You dissolved the light supports, Nightwing’s body slumping against you with all his weight for only a moment before Batman picked him up and placed him on the stretcher.

Immediately, they began to roll him towards a section of the underground base, and you watched as they began to hook him up to different machines for only a moment before turning away in shame. Should you just go? You didn’t feel right, being here in this secret cave just because you had gotten an actual hero injured to the brink of death. You had never felt so small, dismounting from the bike, intent on leaving the Batcave and finding some way home so you could feel sorry for yourself in peace.

You had not gotten farther than a few steps when a voice called out to you.

“Going somewhere, Miss Lightspear?”

You turned, seeing the older man, whose voice you recognized as the one operating the bike, standing a few feet away. Guilt and shame rose up from inside you as you forced yourself to answer him.

“I thought I would get out of your way. I’ve already caused enough trouble tonight,” you replied, looking down at your feet.

“If I may say, miss, I think you’re just where you need to be,” he said. “We are in need of someone with information on this drug if we are to save Master Nightwing.”

“I…” You didn’t want to outright refuse him, but you had a hard time believing you would be of any use to someone like Batman.

“If I may add,” the man spoke gently. “I am sure Master Nightwing would appreciate seeing you at his bedside when he wakes up.”

You still felt like you didn’t deserve his kindness, or to be here at all, but you allowed the man to lead you over to the lab where Batman was standing over the prone Nightwing, who had been stripped of the top half of his costume and was hooked up to an I.V. He looked so pale that you were surprised he was still alive, a thought which chilled you to the core.

“What information can you give us on the drug?” Batman asked gruffly, the severity in his voice making you feel like a mouse caught in a trap.

“We are analyzing a sample of his blood,” the older man added. “But it would help us isolate what we are to be treating if we had some more information to work with.”

You nodded slowly. “Parasis said that this was a faster-acting version of cherry. From what I can tell, he’s already in what would be considered the late stages for the pill form of the drug. The only other way to check how bad he is would be to look at his eyes.”

“His eyes?” Batman replied.

“When you’re in the final stage before death, the whites of your eyes turn red,” you explained.

Batman nodded, approaching Nightwing’s head. “Alfred?”

“I should have the police data on the drug in one moment, sir,” Alfred answered, typing away at a nearby computer. “It seems to be a combination of colchicine and erythromycin, with traces of methylenedioxymethamphetamine.”

“And the system?” Batman pressed.

“Currently synthesizing a counter-drug,” Alfred answered. “Administering Master Nightwing with naloxone right now to try and lessen the severity of the reaction.”

Batman reached down to gently remove Nightwing’s mask, and you looked away, feeling like you were encroaching on something private.

“His eyes have started to turn red,” Batman said, and you looked up with fear, setting your eyes on the unmasked Nightwing before you could stop yourself.

He was holding one of Nightwing’s eyelids open, and you could easily see the red creeping out from the corners of his eye. Any other time, you would have appreciated the pretty blue of his eye, but now all the sight did was fill you with dread.

Looking up from Nightwing’s eyes, you realized that Batman was staring at you, his expression unreadable. Recoiling in horror, you realized the mistake you had just made.

“I didn’t mean to look!” you exclaimed, bowing your head in fear. “I can take mine off, if that makes it fair! I swear I didn’t mean to–”

You pulled your own mask off, gripping it tightly in one hand while staring down at your lap, afraid to meet Batman’s eyes again.

“There is no cause for concern, miss,” Alfred spoke up. “You have brought Master Nightwing to us in time for treatment. Neither of us is worried about you seeing his face, but I will leave his identity for him to disclose when he recovers.”

“This isn’t the first or fifth time one of us has been poisoned,” Batman added as you finally gathered the courage to look him in the eyes. “He’ll pull through if we can just isolate the component that Poison Ivy added to this new strain.”

A moment after he spoke, there was a metallic ding from the computer, which Alfred hurried to check on.

“It seems the final component to this new version is a mutated form of deadly nightshade,” Alfred informed.

Batman nodded. “Do we still have that physostigmine compound from the last encounter with Poison Ivy?”

“You know I like to be overly prepared,” Alfred replied. “It’s in cabinet B, row eight.”

Batman got up to fetch the solution, and you turned your attention back to Nightwing. You had been so amazed earlier by his abilities, but all you could think about now as you sat down next to him was just how frail he looked. His chest and neck were covered in red, irritated patches of skin, his breathing shallow. If he had been just a bit slower, or less self-sacrificing, it could easily have been you on that table looking like you had one foot already in the grave.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, miss,” Alfred spoke up as he approached your side. “If he were awake, he would tell you the same, even if he is often not great at taking his own advice.”

“But I did this to him,” you protested, feeling low.

“Poison Ivy and Parasis did this to him,” Batman cut in as he returned with a syringe of clear liquid. “Nightwing understood the risks when he came to help you.”

You watched as Batman injected the syringe into Nightwing’s shoulder before placing it onto Alfred’s waiting tray.

“That should cover all of the matters of great concern,” Alfred said. “I will keep him on fluids to help flush this cherry out of his system, but I’m afraid all we can do now is wait.”

You weren’t sure what to do now. It was a relief that Nightwing had gotten treatment, but that didn’t mean he was guaranteed to survive the night.

“Sir, what do you say we leave the young lady in charge of overseeing Master Nightwing for now?” Alfred suggested to Batman.

“Me? But…”

“You’ll be fine,” Batman said with surprising kindness. “He’s hooked up to monitors that will alert us if his vitals change, so we’ll be here if there’s a problem.”

“Okay,” you reluctantly agreed. You owed it to Nightwing to be by his side right now, even if part of you still just wanted to run away.

“If you need anything, just press this,” Alfred told you, handing you a grey square of plastic with a red button in the center.

You took the button with a nod, watching the two men walk away before returning your attention to the unconscious hero in front of you. You waited until you were alone with him before speaking up.

“I’m so sorry, Nightwing,” you sighed. “I should have accepted your help. I shouldn’t have run in there alone like an idiot. This whole thing is way bigger than I could handle on my own… I get that now. I just wish I could apologize to you when you can hear me.”

Nightwing said nothing, because of course he didn’t. You looked from his face to the monitors around him, beeping softly at a steady rhythm. He didn’t particularly look any better, but he also wasn’t continuing to get worse, at least not that you could tell. You knew there was one way to check for sure if he was getting worse, but you were terrified of lifting his eyelids to see pure red, so you just sat by his side, desperately hoping Batman’s treatment was working.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed until Alfred came by with a mug of hot chocolate, snapping you out of your thoughts as you stared intently at the monitors.

“It’s four in the morning, miss,” he informed you, handing you the warm mug. “If you would like to get some rest, a room has been prepared for you.”

“I don’t know…” you replied, even as your sore and tired body screamed at you to take him up on his offer.

“Master Nightwing has been given the most effective treatment we have. The best thing you can do for him right now would be to get some rest yourself,” he advised.

Part of you wanted to consider it, but things weren’t that simple. “I can’t. I’m scheduled to work later today. I just started this job, I can’t just…”

“May I ask where you work? And for that matter, would you mind if I were to ask for your name?” Alfred asked.

You weren’t sure why it mattered, but you told him your name. “I work at Bludhaven Public Library.”

“Ah, at the library?” he responded with interest. “We have quite the rare collection amassed here. Perhaps you can have a look at it after you have had a rest.”

“I…”

“If I can promise that things with your job will be taken care of, will you agree to my request?” he asked insistently. “I will alert you if anything changes with Master Nightwing’s condition.”

“Is Batman okay with that?” you asked quietly, feeling your will to refuse slipping away from you, your tiredness demanding you give in and close your eyes.

“Batman was the one who insisted I come to offer you a bed,” Alfred responded. “I’ll keep watch over him, so please get some rest.”

With a small defeated sigh, you stood up, clutching the mug of yet undrunk hot chocolate in your hands. “Thank you Alfred. I’m sorry to be such a burden on you.”

“Nonsense,” he dismissed, leading you up a winding metal staircase. “I haven’t been asked to remove any bullets or stitch up stab wounds. Tonight has been a rather lax night for me.”

His attempts to cheer you up were definitely helping, even if his words made you concerned for what he got up to on a daily basis. Nightwing’s condition would be the same whether you were there or not, and you would be of no use to him if you were passed out from exhaustion at his bedside.

You emerged from the staircase through a trick bookcase, coming out into what looked like the study room of someone wealthy. Just who was Batman?

Alfred led you out of the study, across the hall and then down a small staircase. You were grateful your feet still worked as your brain felt overwhelmed by the sheer volume of opulence around you. You followed Alfred into what looked like a waiting room at a dentist’s officer or something before Alfred opened one of two side-by-side doors for you, revealing a bedroom at last.

The room had a large freshly-made bed opposite an expensive-looking entertainment centre and widescreen T.V. You had been expecting a small bed in a room the size of a closet, not a room that looked like it was straight out of an ad for a five star hotel. Your whole apartment was maybe only slightly bigger than this room, and you had thought it was decently sized, but apparently it was nothing compared to a guest room in Batman’s house.

Alfred stood by the door as you entered the room, in awe. “If you require anything, please buzz the intercom and I’ll be right up.”

“Thanks Alfred,” you said, still struggling to fully comprehend how your night had ended up like this.

“My pleasure. Goodnight, miss.”

The door closed as Alfred took his leave and you were left alone in the giant room. You didn’t have the mental power available right now to survey the rest of the room, just enough to walk your way over to the bed, take off your shoes and crawl under the covers.

For a moment, your brain just wanted to focus on all the worries you had accumulated through the night. Would Nightwing be okay? What did Alfred mean about dealing with your work? What was Parasis planning to do with her new enhanced drug? You had so many questions, but no answers. Eventually your mind wore itself down and you drifted off at last, worries shelved away for when you were awake again.

You woke up slowly, body not fully willing to return to the land of the living. Realizing there was sun coming through the gap in the curtains, you forced yourself up, pulling your phone out of your jacket pocket to see that it was eleven in the morning. Way past when you needed to be at work for, and a whole seven hours since you had been at Nightwing’s bedside.

Springing out of bed, you were immediately struck by how gross you felt. Afraid to even lift your underarm to check, you zeroed in on a door at the other end of the wall from where the door to the hall was. Padding over to the previously-unnoticed door, you cautiously opened it to see the largest bathroom you had ever seen. Eyes focussing in on the fancy tiled shower, you stepped into the room, unable to resist the call of the shower.

You turned the handle, trying to focus on this moment and not all your current stresses. Alfred had promised that he would inform you if Nightwing’s condition changed, and considering you had woken up on your own, you felt it was fair to assume that Nightwing was at least still in the same state as he had been last night. You would worry about what that meant after your shower, but at least he was likely stable. You knew you had the best chance to shower right now anyways; if you rang the intercom only to get bad news, you doubted you would be in any mood to haul yourself into shower.

The bathroom was fully stocked with products, as well as the fluffiest towels you had ever used. Having no other option, you put your hero costume back on, minus mask, cringing in the long mirror at how awful it looked.

There were rips and holes all over your jacket and skirt, and what parts weren’t ripped were stained with dirt, blood and what was likely the small spray of liquid cherry that had made it past Nightwing to hit you. At least your hair and body were clean, but the rest of you looked like you had lost a fight with a cactus, which you supposed was not too far from the truth.

Exiting the bathroom, you forced your feet to take you to the intercom by the door, each step feeling like you were trudging through mud, your mind racing with possibilities. What if he hadn’t gotten any better over the night? What if he had gotten worse? And the hardest possibility for you to discount, what if he had died during the night and Alfred hadn’t been able to bring himself to keep his promise to wake you up and tell you the bad news?

You raised a hand, getting a finger all the way up to the button before freezing, afraid of what you would hear if you pressed it. You knew you had to do this, but you were terrified, pressing the button quickly before you could talk yourself out of it.

There was a short beep before Alfred answered. “Did you sleep well?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer his question, or wait even a moment to hear the news. “How is he?”

There was a short moment of silence. “I think this news would be better delivered in person. I will be there in just a moment.”

The intercom cut off, your chest freezing cold at his words. He hadn’t sounded upset, just neutral, so there wasn’t really much to gain from analyzing his tone, but the words were a whole other story. If he insisted on telling you in person, there was no way it would be anything good, but you wouldn’t know for sure until he got here.

The minutes you spent waiting for Alfred were spent largely alternating between sitting and standing, no position able to keep your panic from rising for long. You knew that only Alfred’s arrival would be able to even somewhat calm your frantic energy, but that knowledge didn’t keep you from pacing a hole in the floor until a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” you said, voice coming out scratchier than you had intended.

The door opened and Alfred entered the room, looking the same as he had last you saw him. You tried to study him, looking for any clues as to what he was about to tell you, but whether intentional or not, his defences were impenetrable, which caused you to assume the worst.

“If he’s dead, just tell me!” you blurted out, unable to take the pressure on your chest any longer.

“He’s not dead,” Alfred replied with a shake of his head and an exasperated smile. “I warned him this would be the likely outcome, but he still insisted we let you sleep.”

“…what?” you asked, feeling lost.

“Master Nightwing regained consciousness about an hour ago,” Alfred informed you. “The drug took effect quickly, and it seems it can be recovered from just as fast, provided the victim be treated with the right combination of medicines in time.”

“Wait, he’s not dead?” you gasped.

“To my great relief, yes,” Alfred replied wearily. “I can take you to see him right now if you would like to see for yourself.”

You readily agreed, following Alfred out through the sitting room and back into the hallway. The walk was a short one, taking you down the hall and around the corner into another sitting room. Did every bedroom in this place need its own waiting room?

There was only one other door in this room, and you raced over to it, not bothering to knock in your haste to make sure that Nightwing was okay.

“Nightwing?” you called out, opening the door only to freeze in shock opposite the equally-surprised inhabitant of the room.

Nightwing, minus mask as well as all other articles of clothing minus a towel around his waist, was standing in the middle of the bedroom, blue eyes wide as he stared back at you. It was silent for a moment until footsteps from behind you broke the quiet as Alfred entered with a succinct pardon me.

Alfred’s voice snapped you out of your gawking and you retreated, quickly hiding behind Alfred.

“I’m sorry!” you apologized definitely too loudly before dashing out of the room, Alfred following, closing the door behind you.

You collapsed into one of the chairs in the sitting room, covering your face with your hands in your embarrassment. Well, Nightwing was alive alright…

“I apologize,” Alfred said kindly. “I’d have stopped you if I had known he was indisposed.”

“It’s fine,” you groaned miserably, reluctantly pulling your hands away from your face. “I’m just relieved that he’s okay.”

Alfred looked like he was about to say something, but someone else spoke up first.

“You saw Grayson naked? If I were you, I’d be poking my eyes out right about now.”

You looked to the doorway to see a boy in his early teens with short spiky black hair and a smug expression enter the room.

You stared at the boy with wide eyes before the sound of a door opening behind you put you on edge again.

“You know I nearly died last night, right?” came Nightwing’s weary voice from behind you.

The boy scoffed. “…and? I nearly died last week. Big deal.”

Nightwing sighed, and you twitched involuntarily as he entered your peripheral vision.

“Come Master Damian, it’s nearly time for your lunch,” Alfred interrupted the boy, who looked to be ready to launch another snarky remark.

“No it’s not, it’s only eleven!” Damian protested, only giving in with a frown when Alfred directed a sharp look his way. “Fine, but this isn’t over. I wanna test my skills against her light powers, so don’t hog her all to yourself, Grayson.”

“She’s too old for you!” Nightwing called out in reply to the retreating boy, his footsteps away turning into loud stomps in response.

When the two’s footsteps finally faded, Nightwing turned to you, although you were still having a hard time looking at him.

“Sorry about him,” Nightwing said. “Tact has never been one of his strong points.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, looking at him at last to thankfully see him dressed now in a teal t-shirt and dark jeans. “I’ll take dealing with a mouthy kid over watching you dying in front of me any day. I’m so sorry, Nightwing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “…Nightwing?”

“Uh…” You were confused; had he hit his head when he had passed out last night?

“Alfred didn’t tell you my name?” he clarified.

Oh. That’s what he meant.

You bit your lip. “He said it wasn’t his secret to share.”

Nightwing laughed. “Alfie can be way too serious sometimes. You saved my life last night, so I don’t think you knowing my name is too much in return.”

“I put your life in danger in the first place,” you grumbled.

“Anyways,” he smoothly interjected. “My name is Dick Grayson.”

That made sense; Damian had referred to him as Grayson. You chose not to comment on the old-fashioned nature of his name, instead giving him yours in return.

You knew you probably still had a miserable look on your face as Dick took a seat in the chair beside yours, waiting until you looked at him to talk.

“You don’t need to feel bad,” he said gently. “I chose to jump in front of you. There’s nothing for you to feel guilty about.”

“But you could’ve died!” you protested. “Nobody else has survived this drug.”

“Trust me, I’ve been through worse,” he said, standing up. “But if you insist on apologizing, then I think I’m in the mood for burgers, your treat.”

You stared at him incredulously, but didn’t resist as he pulled you out of your chair and towards the door.

“What? I haven’t eaten in almost a day. You called me right as I was about to order a pizza for dinner.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” you asked warily as Nightwing led you up to his bike.

You were already feeling fairly out of your element, dressed in a borrowed sweater and shorts from Dick’s closet to replace your stained and ripped hero clothes. You had passed Alfred on the way out, Dick rebuffing his offer to drive the two of you, insisting on taking his bike. Alfred had informed you he would source you some clothing to replace your ruined outfit, which you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse, not wanting to spend all day dressed in ill-fitting mens clothing, especially ones made for someone way more muscular than you.

“It’ll be fine,” Dick dismissed. “I’ve driven this thing just fine with a bullet in my shoulder.”

That wasn’t really the reassurance you were looking for, but you climbed on the bike behind him. You were still somewhat scarred from the last time you had been on this bike, but it helped that you weren’t riding with someone who was half dead this time. Dick was warm, but not feverishly so, which was another relief. You could not stop being reminded lately just how different this place was to your small town.

Dick drove into the city, pulling over outside a building with a red neon sign denoting it as Caroline’s Diner.

You followed behind Dick as he entered, averting your eyes to the booths behind when the hostess sent a judgy stare your way, assumedly based on the odd sight of such a strangely-dressed girl out with a guy as good-looking as Dick. She was all smiles when she met eyes with him however, grabbing two menus from behind her podium and leading you towards a booth, swinging her hips as she went. She really didn’t have to try so hard; it wasn’t like Dick was yours for her to steal in the first place.

Dick had insisted that you try the milkshakes here, and so you waited until the hostess had gone with your order before bringing up something that had been on your mind.

“What do you think she plants to do with the new strain?” you asked, making sure to speak as covertly as possible, aware of the diners all around you.

“We can talk about that later,” he replied. “I didn’t want to come here to talk business.”

“Uh… then what?” you replied.

He laughed. “I want to know more about you. Haven’t you ever been on a date before?”

“A date?” you squeaked. You had never thought of yourself as a particularly dense person, but didn’t asking someone on a date usually involve using the word date?

“Do you have a job?” he asked, seemingly unwilling to let you drown in your own thoughts again.

You could answer that. You just had to ignore his date comment and pretend you were out with a normal friend, instead of a gorgeous superhero that you had nearly gotten killed last night.

“I work at Bludhaven Public Library,” you told him, and his eyes lit up.

“I’ve been meaning to check out the library, but I keep getting too busy,” he replied.

“Just don’t go in costume,” you warned teasingly. “My coworker Gertie hates Nightwing. Even made a kid in a Nightwing shirt turn it inside out just to be allowed into the library a few days ago.”

He winced. “Hopefully it’s not a sentiment shared by all the staff?”

You guessed he was referring to you and shook your head. “Maybe at first. I came here thinking I could easily handle things, at least until last night’s reality check. You have to admit you were annoying at first though!”

Dick grinned. “I think the word you were thinking of is charming, but I see your point. I figured I would introduce myself and try and figure out if you were on our side or not.”

“You thought I was a villain?” you whisper-shouted.

Dick raised his hands in surrender. “There are always new criminals popping up in Bludhaven. I wanted to make sure you weren’t a member of the League of Limousine Assassins that suddenly developed a conscience.”

“The what?” you retorted. “That can’t possibly be a real group.”

“As I said, we get all types in Bludhaven, but not a lot of heroes,” he explained. “It takes a masochist to move to Bludhaven nowadays.”

You had definitely gotten that impression, and you had only been in the city just over two weeks now. But it wasn’t like you had come to Bludhaven for a normal reason. As you were pondering what to say next, the hostess returned with your milkshakes. You were fairly certain her job didn’t involve serving customers, but it seemed she had made an exception for your table.

“Enjoy,” she purred seductively, giving a finger-wiggling wave to Dick as she strut away.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer difference between your milkshakes. Dick’s was pristine, topped with a more than generous amount of whipped cream and not one but two cherries. Meanwhile yours had not a drop of whip cream and was fairly messy, several lines of milkshake dripping down the glass that hadn’t been wiped.

Dick raised an eyebrow at you and you laughed again, gesturing between your milkshakes. “I’m pretty sure the hostess has the hots for you. She probably spat in mine.”

Dick huffed, rolling his eyes as he reached across the table to switch your milkshake with his.

Shushing your protests, he pulled the straw up to his lips, taking a sip from your comparatively-bland-looking milkshake. “It’s your first time here, you take mine.”

You reluctantly accepted the fancy milkshake, fairly certain you could feel the hostess’ glare all the way from her podium.

“So why Bludhaven?” Dick asked.

You plucked a cherry off of the pile of whipped cream, popping it in your mouth. “If I tell you, then you have to answer one of my questions.”

There was a challenge in Dick’s eyes as he answered. “Deal.”

“My friend’s brother was one of the first people to die from cherry, back in our hometown. I saw how wrecked she was after he died and figured that it was time to make the move to somewhere where I was doing more than rescuing cats from trees and catching shoplifters, and the trail to cheery led me to Bludhaven.”

“That’s happening more and more lately,” Dick replied with a wry smile. “So what’s your question?”

You took a sip from your milkshake before narrowing your eyes slightly at the man across from you. “How did you see through my trick that night?”

“With the double?” he asked, and you nodded, staring him down. Your pride had received quite the bruise that night. “I put a tracker on your phone.”

“On my–” You pulled your phone out of your shorts’ pocket, Dick’s hand reaching across the table to stop you from trying to pick your phone apart to search for the bug.

“Not a physical tracker,” he corrected. “I have a function in my mask that allows me to put a trace on your phone’s signal.”

You were almost impressed enough to not be mad. “All my mask does is itch if I wear it for too long.”

“I’ll show you when we get back,” he said. “Alfie said I should stay a few days so they can make sure the drug is out of my system, so I’ve got some time.”

His words gave you pause. “Wait, you don’t live there?”

“I’ve got my own place in Bludhaven,” he answered. “Attached to my cross train studio.”

He owned his own cross train studio? Just how laughably out of your league could this guy get?

The food arrived, the hostess bending over way more than was necessary to place Dick’s burger and fries down in front of him, a busboy bringing your own plate over. At this point you would be astounded if the hostess didn’t try to jump him in the parking lot in your way out.

“So?” Dick probed after you had taken a bite of your burger.

“It’s good,” you said. You had been so busy with everything lately that you felt like you hadn’t had a good meal in forever.

“This place has been here forever,” he said, looking fondly around at the fifties-style interior.

“I can tell,” you laughed, watching a little girl fiddling with the jukebox in the corner.

It was nice spending time with Dick. Between your regular job and your unconventional hobby, you never had much time left to hang out with friends anymore. Thinking on it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had texted Kamila, the realization making you feel guilty.

The hostess returned with the bill, which was set in the middle of the table. You reached out for it, but Dick was faster, pulling the bill to his side of the table and pulling out a credit card.

“You said it was my treat!” you complained as the hostess left to go swipe the card.

“I lied,” he shrugged, smiling at your annoyed expression. “And it’s not like you owe me anything anyways. Like I said, it was my choice to take the hit for you. We should probably head back before I’m late for Alfie’s next blood test. He’s making me get tested every twelve hours until it’s all out of my system.”

You giggled at the dejected-looking vigilante, not envious of his situation.

The hostess chose then to return with Dick’s card and the receipt, once again bending over excessively to place both objects in front of him.

“Call me after you drop your sister off,” she said with a pointed look in your direction before making her way back to her podium.

Well she certainly wasn’t pulling any punches, not if the phone number and deep red kiss mark on the receipt were anything to go by. You knew that you definitely didn’t look like his sister, but whatever floated her boat. Sure Dick was cute, but he likely had better options than you for the hostess to compete with.

Dick didn’t acknowledge the number on the receipt, and was polite enough to wait until you had returned to the mansion to throw it in the trash when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Master Dick, I was about to call,” Alfred greeted. “I have everything set up in the Batcave.”

Dick groaned, but obeyed, trudging up the stairs, assumedly towards the secret entrance to the Batcave.

Once Dick was gone, Alfred turned to address you. “I took the liberty of procuring you a selection of clothing that is waiting in your guest room. Please let me know if anything is not to your liking.”

A selection? You felt bad bursting his bubble, but it had to be done. If you somehow weren’t fired for no-showing today, then you definitely would be by Monday.

“Thanks, Alfred, but I should probably be going soon. I just started my job, and I can’t afford to miss any more days right now.”

“That won’t be a problem,” a deep voice said from the living room, and you turned to see a broad-shouldered handsome man with dark hair and a strong jaw enter the foyer.

You looked to Alfred, who smiled reassuringly, which helped calm your nerves at the stranger’s approach.

“Bruce Wayne,” he introduced himself, offering a hand. Taking his hand, you gave him your name in return. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like you to stay here while Dick is recovering.”

“I…” you hesitated. “I appreciate the offer, but my job…”

“I called Bludhaven Public Library and informed them that you were lending me your skills for a private project in return for a generous donation for the library from Wayne Enterprises.”

Wayne Enterprises? You had heard that name before… wasn’t it some tech giant company that owned stadiums all across America?

It took you an embarrassingly long moment to piece together the Wayne company with the man before you, but when you did, you just stared at Bruce in shock. It did explain the giant mansion… and the Batcave. You felt uncomfortable with the knowledge, but Bruce didn’t seem to share your worries.

“I’ll go attend to Master Dick,” Alfred announced, taking his leave and leaving you alone with the intimidating billionaire.

Bruce didn’t seem to be bothered by the awkward atmosphere. “I know how important Bludhaven is to Dick, but it’s dangerous.”

Why was he bringing up Bludhaven? You weren’t sure what to say, or how to escape this conversation, so you just settled for a short nod.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, and you got the impression that you were missing something.

“You lack combat experience, but your powers have potential,” he said, not insultingly, but simply pointing out a fact you now knew to be true. You had been embarrassingly useless in the encounter with Parasis and Ivy and you knew it. “I’d like to take the time now and do what I can to train you before you return to Bludhaven.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” you asked meekly. “Me knowing you’re…”

“Do you have a reason why I should be worried?” he asked, and you furiously shook your head. “Then, yes, it’s alright. I’ve looked into your background and didn’t find any points of concern, other than your lack of combat skills.”

Batman had looked into you? It felt almost surreal, your brain doing its best to process the information. You doubted he would have seen to share his identity with you if you hadn’t brought Dick here last night, but it was incredibly flattering that Batman thought of you as someone trustworthy, your lackluster combat skills aside. And who were you to turn down an offer of training from Batman himself, as daunting of a challenge as it was.

“I would love to,” you said gratefully. “It was my fault Dick got hurt, and I don’t want to be a liability again.”

“Good to hear,” Bruce replied. “If you’re ready now, then I have something to show you.”

Following Bruce back upstairs into the study, you re-entered the Batcave through the secret staircase. But this time you were taken away from the main area to an open area that you assumed would be for training. There were various pieces of equipment on a nearby workbench, along with a pile of folded white fabric that instantly caught your eye.

After a gesture from Bruce, you approached the table, expecting to find your now-washed hero costume, but instead unravelled the fabric to find an entirely different outfit.

It had a similar shape and color to your original costume, but holding it in your hands, you could tell this one was of a much higher quality than the one you were used to. Running a hand down the front, you couldn’t place what material it was made from, but found yourself entranced by the upgrade.

“Try it on,” Bruce instructed. “We’ll get started when I return.”

You figured he was giving you privacy to change, but reconsidered when he returned in full Batman getup. You had been admiring the upgrades to your suit, which included some sort of thin metal on the inside of your new gloves.

“They store reserve solar light,” Bruce explained as he returned to see you staring down at your gloved hands. “They should keep you from running out of usable light again.”

You were about to thank him, but were interrupted by some hurried footsteps in your direction. You looked over to see Dick turn the corner, still fully tugging on his Nightwing suit as he made his way over to you.

“Has Alfred cleared you?” Bruce asked, unconcerned by Dick’s sudden appearance.

“I’m fine,” he replied, putting on his mask. “More importantly, I should be the one training her.”

“She needs to be prepared the next time Parasis acts,” Bruce said sternly. “Her inexperience could get both of you killed.”

“I know that,” Dick stressed, an odd tension flaring in the air between the men. “I want to try things my way first.”

Bruce stared at him for a moment, but backed down. “If you need anything, let Alfred know.”

You watched Bruce walk away, feeling stunned, but then Dick took his place in front of you. Your heart throbbed guiltily in your chest as you stared at Dick in his full Nightwing outfit, the sight reminding you of last night when he had been dying in front of your eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked cautiously. His skin was a much healthier shade now, but you didn’t want him to push himself and make things worse.

“You sound like Alfred,” he dismissed teasingly. “We don’t have time to wait. We don’t know what Parasis is planning to do next, so we need to use the time we have now.”

“So… what now?”

“We’ll start with basic self-defen–”

Dick darted out towards you, and you first assumed this was some sort of sneak attack training until he pulled you into his body, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back a few feet. You were confused and flustered, at least until you heard a clang of metal from behind you.

Turning around, you saw an angular knife in the floor, just about where you had been standing. You were on edge immediately; were you under attack? Had Parasis followed you here?

“You weren’t supposed to help her, you know,” an annoyed voice complained, a costumed boy who could only be Damian flipping down from a higher railing to land in front of you and pick up his discarded knife.

“You’re a trained assassin, Damian. You could have killed her!” Dick accused, his words sending chills down your spine. That bratty teenager from earlier was an assassin? In his costume, he just looked like any sidekick you had ever seen in the news.

“She was supposed to use her powers,” Damian grumbled, prickly from being scolded by Dick.

“She’s not like us,” Dick replied, not unkindly. “You can help, but maybe save the knife throwing until we’ve covered basic self defense.”

“Fine,” Damian relented, returning to sit on the railing, his judging stare fixed on you.

It was somewhat mortifying to have a teen assassin watching your pitiful self-defence lesson, but he didn’t seem to be going anywhere, so you had little choice in the matter.

Dick was a patient but tough teacher, your muscles screaming at you after your fifteenth attempt at breaking out of a hold. You were finally able to execute the move on your sixteenth try, collapsing to the floor as soon as Dick had stepped away from you.

“Is it time for the knives now?” Damian’s impatient voice rang out as you laid on the floor panting.

You knew that this was beneficial to you, but you were beginning to feel like you were the only sane person in this place right now.

“Do you want to try another move?” Dick asked, helping you to your feet.

What you wanted to do was pass out until your body wasn’t on fire anymore, but you didn’t vocalize that desire. As hard as this was, you had chosen this lifestyle, and you couldn’t just back out now. You had resigned yourself to just be one big bruise tomorrow when you were once again rescued by what felt like the only other person with any sense in this place.

“If I may put forward a suggestion,” Alfred said, entering the area with a shiny silver tray in hand. “How about a demonstration from the two of you while she takes a break? It would not do to overdue things so early into her training and leave her bedbound.”

You could hug Alfred, but were reluctant to accept his help, not wanting to seem weak in front of the two heroes.

“Finally!” Damian cheered, clearly eager for some action.

Dick frowned, looking you over and seeming to come to a realization. “Sure. Take a break with Alfred and then we’ll work on some other moves.”

You agreed, following Alfred over to one of the work benches where a chair was waiting for you. Alfred chose to stand, offering you a glass of water from his tray, which you gratefully accepted as Dick and Damian squared up opposite each other.

“Don’t look too harshly upon Master Dick,” Alfred said as he watched the two readying themselves. “He’s been a part of this world since he was young and sometimes forgets that others are only human.”

You hummed in response as Dick removed the two sticks from his back and Damian unsheathed a sword. Looking at the two now, your light powers felt like party tricks. The feeling only grew as Dick leapt out at Damian, his metal stick meeting Damian’s blade. They fought fiercely, and you were having a hard time determining who was winning. You would have to try harder.

Damian seized Dick’s arm, trying to flip him, but Dick went with the movement, flipping through the air and landing in a perfect tuck roll. Watching the two meet blows, you were filled with the urge to push yourself farther, to be an asset to Dick when thus far you had just been a burden.

After a harsh kick from Damian sent Dick to the floor, you saw your chance to act. Dick’s back was to Damian as the teen dashed forward with his sword. You knew he couldn’t possibly be going for the kill, but you saw your chance to fulfil Damian’s earlier request and prove your worth all at once and took it, quickly creating a sloping barrier of light in front of Dick, solidifying it right as Damian lunged forward, his sword clanging uselessly against the sudden barrier.

Damian let out a surprised noise, but recovered quickly, approaching the barrier to take a closer look at it as Dick stood up, looking past the barrier to where you sat with Alfred.

“Thanks for the save,” you heard, jolting in surprise from the closeness of his voice. He was across the room, but you could hear him as if he was standing next to you.

Dick laughed. “Bruce upgraded your mask, so it’s on our frequency now.”

How had you not noticed? It had looked so similar to your mask. Pulling it off, you let the light barrier fall as you examined the inside of your new mask.

“Hey! Put it back up!” Damian exclaimed, sword in hand. “I was gonna see if I could break it!”

Standing up, you thanked Alfred for the water before approaching the boys, waving a hand and creating a new wall for Damian to wail away at.

“You’re lucky she saved you,” Damian taunted. “I was about to win our match.”

You laughed, and Dick’s attention turned to you. “Is that a request for more hold escape training I hear?”

“Uh–” You backed up, trying to assess your chances of retreating to hide behind Alfred before Dick could get over to you. Today was going to be a long day.

You were so tired. Dick had definitely made you pay for laughing at his expense.

He had made you run through escaping holds several more times, as well as numerous other defence techniques. By the time he mercifully called an end to the day’s training, you were worn down physically and mentally, unable to do much more than collapse in your bed. The reality of self-defence was much more difficult than those YouTube videos you had watched had led you to believe, but you had to do what you could to be ready the next time Parasis struck.

The rest of your week passed in much the same way, training yourself to the bone during the day and sleeping all night, with one notable exception.

Much to his own dismay, Damian had been unable to so much as crack your light wall, and had become obsessive with the need to defeat this new self-imposed foe. He didn’t seem to have any interest in accepting defeat, and had been pestering you several times a day to test himself against your powers. He hadn’t let up, and by Friday he had been driving you insane.

You hadn’t minded humoring him at first, but he got more and more frustrated with each failed attempt, and unfortunately was no less interested in besting your powers with his own skill. You had even considered breaking the wall and pretending he had done it just to get him to leave you alone, but dismissed the idea; Damian was too smart for his own good, and definitely too smart to fall for a trick like that, which left you only one option.

It was late evening, just about time for Damian’s usual late night practice request as you rushed down the hallway and into Dick’s sitting room, hurriedly knocking on the door to his bedroom. Dick opened the door, dressed in a pair of striped pajama pants and a black tank top, and was about to lean against the doorframe until you stopped him by pushing him into the room, entering behind him and shutting the door.

He looked a little confused by your odd behavior, at least until you opened your mouth.

“You have to help me. I can’t take it anymore!” you groaned, back against the door, listening for any noises in the hallway outside, but knowing it was a fruitless effort with how quiet that kid was when he wanted to be.

Dick looked at you with a sympathetic wince. “Damian?”

“He’s driving me nuts!” you exclaimed, slumping to the floor. “Does he ever give up?”

“From my experience, no,” Dick answered. “Not until he wins. He’s a good kid, and he’s usually not this bad, but…”

“And I can’t even fake break it because he’d know!” you lamented. “If I have to sit through another hour of him acting like I make my walls unbreakable just to spite him, I’m going to lose it!”

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” Dick reassured you, pulling you up from the floor. “I’ve got a plan that’ll make him leave you alone for the night.”

“Seriously?” you replied. You didn’t think anything would dissuade the persistent Robin; your denials and excuses sure hadn’t.

“Leave it to me,” he said, gesturing for you to follow him over to his couch that sat in front of a T.V. that was the same size as the one in your guest room. “You came at a good time. I finally figured out how to work Netflix on this thing.”

Work Netflix? You raised an eyebrow at his surprisingly poor technology skills for someone who had put a tracker on your phone using just his mask. But how was Netflix supposed to ward Damian off for the night?

“He usually comes to find you right about now, right?” Dick asked, remote in hand.

“Yes,” you groaned. “I don’t know why he thinks try forty-one is going to go any better than try forty.”

The Netflix logo appeared on the T.V., quickly loading into the selection screen, which you noted didn’t have anything under the continue watching category. Seemed that Dick didn’t often have time for movies, which wasn’t really a surprise from what you knew of him.

Dick was scrolling through options with you sitting on the other end of the couch, confused, when there was a loud knock on his door.

You flinched at the voice you had grown to dread as of late.

“Hey, Grayson, is she in there? I’ve got a technique down that’s gonna crack that wall in half!”

Dick moved quickly, clicking on a movie from the Romantic category, skipping partway into the movie before reaching over and pulling you over to him. You couldn’t so much as yelp in surprise as you found yourself sitting in Dick’s lap, his arms around you from behind as you stared dumbly at the screen that was displaying a scene from some rom-com that you vaguely recognized.

“Yeah, she’s in here,” Dick called out, and the door opened, Damian not waiting for permission to enter.

“Okay, this time–” Damian froze, his face looking as stunned as you felt right now. “What are you doing?”

“Watching a movie,” Dick answered casually, subtly pushing your body back to rest against his front.

“That’s not… you know Parasis is still out there!” Damian scolded, clearly put off-kilter by the unexpected scene before him.

“Parasis? I thought you were here to ask her to train with you again,” Dick replied with tactical casualness.

“I–” Damian froze up.

“She’s kinda busy right now,” Dick added. “If you really want to watch the movie with us…”

“I don’t!” Damian snapped with a scowl. “I’ll train by myself.”

Damian turned on his heel, quickly exiting the room. You waited until you heard the door in Dick’s sitting room close as well before moving.

“Thanks for the help, I–” you started, making to get up from the couch, but found yourself unable to move, thanks to Dick’s arms staying stubbornly wrapped around your waist. “…Dick?”

You turned as much as you were able to, finding yourself almost nose-to-nose with Dick, the movie still playing beside you, the sound dulling more by the second as it was overtaken by the thumping of your heart in your ears.

“Uh,” you breathed with a shudder that he definitely had to have noticed. Dick didn’t shy away, in fact he moved closer, now so close that your noses almost brushed, leading your brain to unleash the only thought that had entered your mind at the moment. “That thing you said about it being a date… it wasn’t just a joke?”

“Nope, wasn’t a joke,” he replied lowly, sending goosebumps prickling along your skin as he leaned the last bit forward to kiss you… only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

Dick pulled away from you with a sigh. “It’s open, Damian.”

The door opened to reveal Alfred instead. “I’m afraid I am not Master Damian, but I come with news. It seems Parasis has finally made her next move.”

You and Dick stood behind Bruce at the Batcomputer, all three of you in costume. You fidgeted in place as Bruce pulled up a feed from a news channel that seemed to be live.

“…have confirmed that the victim was the current C.E.O. of Clifton-Woods Trading. It is being reported that his eyes were found to be red when his body was examined, a symptom that is being linked to an emerging new party drug. What we can…”

The noise faded to a whisper as you stared at the picture of the victim on the screen. He was older than you remembered, his hair a lot grayer than the last time you had seen him when you were younger, but he was unmistakable.

“No…” you gasped in horror, more for your friend than yourself.

“What’s wrong?” Dick asked, leaning over to get a look at your distressed expression.

“That’s my friend’s… that’s Kamila’s dad.”

An hour later, you were on the phone with Kamila, sitting on the guest room bed. Dick had volunteered to go to the scene in your stead, a suited-up Damian eagerly joining him, leaving you to once again try to keep Kamila together.

“When are you coming to Bludhaven?” you asked.

“Tomorrow,” she replied quietly, voice hoarse from crying. “Mom’s paying for the funeral to be tomorrow afternoon. After Emile died, she can’t handle another big service.”

“I’ll be there,” you promised. “I don’t want you to be there alone.”

“Thanks,” she said with a shuddered breath. “Just… why is this all happening? Wasn’t I miserable enough after Emile died? Why does this keep happening to my family?”

Her last sentence stuck with you long after you had hung up the phone. It was tragic for one member of her family to be killed by cherry, but what did that make it now? As much as you wanted it to be a tragic coincidence, there was almost no way that was possible. With the death of Kamila’s father, it shifted from a coincidence to a pattern. Someone was targeting Kamila’s family, but why?

“There were traces of the new strain in his wine and his food,” Dick explained when he returned. “Someone really wanted to make sure he died.”

“But was it Parasis or someone else?” you wondered out loud. “She didn’t seem to care what the dealers did with the cherry once it was out of her hands.”

“We also have to consider that Parasis has some sort of grudge against your friend’s family. It’s pretty easy to slip an addict a death pill, but going after a C.E.O… it’s like she doesn’t care about being stealthy anymore.”

“What do we do then?” you said, nails biting into the bed sheets. “Wait until Kamila and her mom are dead too?”

You knew that you were getting overemotional, but you hadn’t expected this case to get so personal. You couldn’t lose Kamila; she was your oldest friend, you had been there for each other through everything.

“Calm down,” Dick soothed gently. “What we’re going to do now is get some sleep. Parasis showed us her hand for a reason by going after him, so I doubt she’s going to go after anyone else tonight.”

“How do you know that?” you asked, wanting desperately to believe what he was saying was true.

“When you fight as many villains as I have, you learn that they all have a flair for the dramatic,” he answered. “She’s made her targets clear, so now it’s just a matter of what she plans to do now. These types always go for a dramatic finale.”

The Bludhaven Police Department had evidently thought along the same lines, as there was a heavy police presence at the small funeral. The guests in attendance were little more than you, Kamila, her mother and a few family friends who lived nearby, but the venue was plenty loud, owing to the mass of reporters outside, all clamoring to get a statement from the grieving family.

Alfred had sourced you a simple black long-sleeved dress to wear, and Dick had driven you to the church, thankfully by car this time. You had told him that you could find your own way back to your apartment after the funeral, but he had insisted on driving you after, going so far as to jokingly threaten to wait outside the church.

“Thank you for coming, dear,” Kamila’s mom greeted you. “First Emile, now Sergio… I feel like I have nothing left in this world.”

You smiled politely, glad that Kamila wasn’t in earshot to hear that. Eliana Parra had never been particularly rude to you, but she had a clear narcissistic streak. But she had just lost her husband and son, and was clearly suffering, and you weren’t enough of a jerk to kick her when she was down. You just hoped she would keep any more comments like that to herself when Kamila was nearby.

“You’re here,” Kamila said, approaching you as her mother left to talk to another family member. She had a long black dress on, her dark hair pulled back in an updo.

“I’m so sorry, Kamila,” you said, giving her a hug.

She sighed. “It’ll be a miracle if I make it through the service. I tried to convince mom to make it a closed casket, but she started going on about seeing dad one last time…”

“Does he have…?”

“The veil on his eyes?” Kamila finished for you. “No. This time it’s sunglasses. Maybe I should ask for heart-shaped ones for my funeral.”

“Kamila!” you chastised quietly as the scant attendees filed towards the casket to say their goodbyes.

“What?” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Clearly I’m next. The mandatory police detail sure thinks so at least.”

“You’ll be fine, Kami,” you said as you both watched Kamila’s mother slump over the casket, wailing loudly.

“Easy for you to say,” she replied. “You’re not the one with some psycho supervillain after you.”

“The police will protect you!” you protested.

“The police are a joke,” she retorted. “But I’ll worry about them later. Wanna come up with me when mom stops drowning dad in tears?”

Kamila was going to be in town for a week to help her mother deal with matters related to her father’s estate. She had informed you that she would be staying with her mother, brushing off your concerns for her mental health and instead making you promise to meet up for coffee in a few days if she wasn’t dead by then.

“I’m not sure how she’s holding up,” you told Dick on the ride to your apartment after. “On the phone she sounded upset, but in person she was so angry.”

“Maybe it’s a stages of grief thing,” he suggested.

“I hope so,” you replied. “I just can’t stop worrying that something is going to happen to her.”

“I know,” he replied somberly. “But we won’t let anything happen to her. Bruce is doing what he can to investigate anyone with links to Parasis so we can stop her before she goes after either of them.”

You didn’t reply, staring dully out the window and hoping that this time you would be able to prevent another tragedy.

Monday morning, you were back at work, trying desperately to put your current worries aside long enough to focus on your job. Thankfully Gertie was more than willing to distract you, and had been chattering your ear off since you got in about the whole donation from Bruce Wayne fiasco.

“I hear they have these new water fountains that give an electric shock when someone tries to put gum in them. Now that we have some cashflow, I think I’ll finally put in a request for one!” she informed you proudly.

You were pretty sure that there was no such thing, but you didn’t want to rain on her parade. It was a wonder that Gertie had decided to work in a public library in the first place, since she didn’t seem to like the public all that much, with one apparent exception.

“Now that Bruce Wayne, he’s a real stud of a man,” she said, and you bit your lip to keep yourself from letting out a nervous laugh. “If he was my age, I would’ve snapped him right up.”

She probably would’ve snapped him in half if she know who he really was. She had a special hate for Nightwing, but had also turned away a man in a Batman shirt earlier, pointing to her large sign that read no attire that promotes criminal behavior is allowed in the library when he tried to argue. You were just glad that her self-described vigilante radar wasn’t as sharp as she seemed to think it was, or you’d be out of a job and possibly arrested.

Your stomach was a little less in knots by the time your shift was almost over, which you had Gertie and her ramblings to thank for. Kamila had texted you a few times since the funeral, mostly to complain about the police detail or her mother’s emotional outbursts, but at least she was alive. You were relieved she was being protected, but for how long?

You had just given the fifteen minutes to closing warning over the PA system when the front door opened and in walked a dark-haired guy, dressed in jeans and a blue sweater with a leather jacket thrown on overtop.

Walking around the custodian’s cleaning cart, he made his way over to the circulation desk.

“Can you tell me where the superhero comics are?” he asked.

Gertie was on him before you could answer.

“We do not carry that kind of deviant filth in our library, young man!” she spoke sternly. “Today’s youth should be spending less time venerating those bat hoodlums and more time studying Reaganomics! What I wouldn’t give for things to be like they were back then…”

While Gertie was losing herself in her 80s political nostalgia, you stepped up to the desk opposite Dick.

“I hope you’re happy,” you whispered grouchily. “Now I’m going to have to listen to another speech about vigilantism corrupting the youth at the next library team meeting.”

“That’s Gertie, I take it? Maybe I should introduce my–”

“Maybe you should tell me why you’re here. At closing. When I’m trying to close,” you cut in.

“Bruce wants us to come by,” he explained. “He wants to talk about Parasis.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “But don’t say that name too loudly.”

“Parasis?” he asked.

“No, Bruce,” you clarified. “I only just got Gertie to stop talking about what a strapping young hunk of a man he is.”

“…got it,” Dick replied, looking somewhat amused. “I’ll wait in the parking lot.”

Dick left, and you risked a glance over your shoulder, paranoid that Gertie might have heard your conversation, only to find that she seemed to have lost interest in being at the desk entirely after Dick’s superhero comic query, and was off chasing lingering patrons out so you could close. She seemed even more fired up than usual, which you figured was owing to the T.V. show she had been talking about all day (when she hadn’t been talking about Bruce Wayne) that she refused to be home late for.

“See you tomorrow,” you said with a wave to Gertie as she gleefully locked the front doors.

“You have a nice night, dear,” she replied. “Just stay away from hoodlums like that boy. I don’t want you being corrupted by his dangerous ideas. First it’s reading those Special Man comics, next it’s robbing banks and stripping cars!”

You were pretty sure she meant Superman, but didn’t dare correct her, merely parting ways with her with a smile on your face. Given you had to work with her most days, you weren’t willing to risk having her wrath aimed in your direction.

You found Dick in the back parking lot, leaning against his bike. Seemed it would be the wind-ruffled hair look for you today. You were at least glad you had worn pants to work.

You purposefully stopped a short distance away from him, crossing your arms over you chest. “You know, I’m not sure if I should go with you. Gertie said you’ve got dangerous ideas, like reading comic books and stripping cars.”

“Me, dangerous ideas?” he replied with exaggerated shock. “If anything, you’re the one getting me involved in the nefarious schemes.”

You groaned in response as he climbed onto his bike, patting the seat behind him.

“You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll only strip maybe one car.”

“Dick!”

“She’s gathering forces. I managed to intercept a message recruiting men for some sort of an attack next Saturday,” Bruce explained.

Your heart sunk. “That’s the day Kamila’s supposed to leave Bludhaven to go back home.”

“So that’s Parasis’ last chance to get them both at the same time,” Dick observed.

“Why is she waiting?” Damian cut in. “She could attack them at any time. Why wait until the last second?”

“Is there some sort of event happening then?” you asked Dick. “I know you said villains like to be overdramatic.”

“They usually do,” he confirmed. “But this doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing special about Saturday that I can think of.”

“Back in the warehouse, she told me she was doing this for revenge, but I don’t remember Kamila ever telling me about anyone with a grudge against her family,” you said. “She didn’t say anything like that at the funeral either.”

“I’ve considered that as well,” Bruce replied. “We’ve looked into Sergio Parra’s company, and it seems fairly typical for a stock brokerage, but that doesn’t discount the possibility of a scorned client wanting to get even.”

“I did an analysis on the firm’s clients, but not many fit the profile we’re looking for,” Alfred said as photos of several women appeared on the large computer screen. “These women are all former clients of Clifton-Woods whose files listed their stock portfolios as performing significantly poorly. Three such clients have filed reports with FINRA alleging stock mismanagement, but their complaints have all been deemed meritless.”

“But who could hate a stock brokerage enough to kill the C.E.O. and his family? And why kill all the other drug addicts then?” you asked, staring at the faces of the potential villainesses.

“You’d be surprised the lengths people will go to for any little slight,” Dick said, and you knew that it was likely experience talking.

“So what now? Are we going to interrogate them?” Damian asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“No,” Batman replied. “We investigate them. We can’t risk tipping Parasis off again and winding up in another trap.”

You knew that he wasn’t saying it maliciously, but his words made shame burn in your chest. You were the only one here who had done both of those things and complicated the situation. It was plainly obvious that you were the weak link here, leaving you feeling like you were the odd one out.

“It’s okay,” Dick spoke softly, too quietly for the others to hear, one hand rising to run gently up and down the small of your back. “Nobody is blaming you. Every one of us has felt like you do right now.”

“Dick…”

“Is that all?” Damian said, pushing himself up out of his chair and turning to face you. “Because if I’m helping with this, then you owe me one. That dumb light wall is breaking for sure this time.”

You looked to Dick for help, but received a powerless shrug in response. Great.

“I think Damian’s got the right idea,” Dick said as you and Damian shared a confused look. “You normally use your powers to fight, so I think we should start training with you using them.”

You had no objections, considering that was the only chance you had to last in a fight with either of them, so you donned your new suit, standing opposite Damian in his.

“Now Damian, remem–“

“Remember to go easy on her, I heard you the first time,” Damian deadpanned, eager to begin. “I won’t kill your girlfriend, Grayson, stop worrying.”

Dick didn’t correct him, merely staring at him warily for a moment before giving the signal for you to begin. Damian charged at you, but your mind was elsewhere. He hadn’t mentioned the date, or the almost-kiss… you had no idea what to think about the whole situation with Dick.

Damian wasn’t about to wait for you to sort out your mental issues, and you were barely able to create a spear in time to block a blow from his sword. Undeterred, Damian came back at you, and you were forced to back up to avoid his slashes.

“Don’t concede ground to him unless you have to!” Dick called out. “Otherwise you’ll get yourself backed into a corner.”

“Your form sucks,” Damian added, pausing in his attack. “Can you turn that into a sword?”

“I can turn it into pretty much anything,” you replied, obligingly changing the spear into a copy of his own blade, which seemed to fascinate him.

“Give it here,” he said, taking the sword and seemingly assessing its weight. As he held the sword, a thought seemed to occur to him. “Can you create another wall?”

You weren’t sure why he was on about the walls again, but obliged, creating a wall off to the side. Damian put down his own sword, instead diving at the wall, the light sword in his hand. Unlike his previous attempts, this time the wall was cleanly severed in two by one swipe of the light blade.

Damian stood smugly beside the felled wall. “Knew it wasn’t invulnerable.”

That was something new for you as well. You hadn’t considered attacking your own solid light with itself. At least this hopefully meant that Damian would stop bugging you to make walls for him to attack.

“You just need to learn to think on your feet,” Dick said as he approached. “Villains aren’t going to give you the time to think about your options in a fight, so you have to be able to react in an instant.”

Easy for him to say, when he had been doing this for… how long had he been doing this for? The articles on him you had found had gone back a few years at least…

“Bruce took me in as Robin when I was twelve,” Dick answered when you posed the question.

“Wait…” Dick had to be around your age, if not a little older, but that would mean… “You were the first Robin? That one they kept calling the boy wonder on T.V.?”

Dick winced at the title, but Damian let out an amused snort. “More like the grandpa wonder now.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “What was that? You want me to give Tim your new number? Just let me–”

“You do that and I’ll–” Damian snarled, while you silently regretted asking the question in the first place.

Now that you had the date that Parasis intended to strike, there wasn’t much for you to do but go about your life until Saturday. Investigation was clearly not your forte, so Bruce had been handling that side of the operation, supported by Alfred as well as Dick and Damian. You had asked if there was anything you could do to help, but Bruce had gently rejected your offer, insisting that the most helpful thing you could do was continue training with Dick after work.

It had been easier to just meet up at Dick’s cross train studio, so that’s where you had been heading after work to train with Dick in his back area between his sessions with actual clients. You knew that your reaction time was slowly improving, even if you doubted that you could ever beat him in an actual fight, though improving your fighting capabilities hadn’t taken away all of your other problems.

Dick still hadn’t made any mention of the almost-kiss, or said anything else to clarify for you what you were supposed to think about the two of you. While he seemed like a sweet guy, you didn’t know him well enough to know if he was just like that with women or if you were a special case. He had clearly sidestepped the attractive hostess’ more-than-obvious advances, but that alone wasn’t enough to convince you that he was actually interested in you, and you weren’t about to ask him just to be rejected for taking his flirting too seriously and then making things awkward. And what was worse, Kamila had stopped replying to your texts.

She was still upset by her round-the-clock police escort, and had blown up at you when you had tried to suggest that it was justifiable under her current circumstances. Five texts and three calls since had gone unanswered, so you assumed she didn’t want to talk to you, which was so unlike her. You did your best to ignore your pitiful personal life, instead putting your all into training to make sure you would have a chance the next time you clashed with Parasis.

“Still nothing?” Dick asked as he entered the back area after a training session with some hockey player to see you sitting on his couch, staring blankly at your phone.

You set your phone down beside you with a sigh. “She’s never just blown me off like this before. I want to tell her what I know so badly, but I can’t explain how I know she’s likely going to be attacked on Saturday. All I said was that it was good the police were protecting her and she just went off on me.”

Dick crossed the room, taking a seat next to you. “She’s probably just stressed and lashing out.”

“I don’t want her to die,” you said quietly. “I’m just terrified I won’t be able to save her if something happens.”

“That’s normal,” he replied, pulling you into his side, one arm around your shoulders. “But you’re not alone this time. Bruce, Damian, Alfred, they’re all here to help.”

“…and you?” you asked lowly, almost afraid to voice your desire for his support.

“I thought that was implied,” he grinned. “How am I supposed to redeem myself in Gertie’s eyes if I let everyone else hog all the glory?”

“You know, if she was dangling from a burning building, she’d probably stab you with a knitting needle before she’d let you save her,” you laughed.

“I used to be popular with old women,” he grumbled.

“When?” you asked. “When you were the boy wonder and saving their cats from trees?”

“I’m never going to live that name down,” he replied wryly. “Villains love greeting me with that one. I’d like to see one of them try to get away with calling Damian the boy wonder.”

You laughed at the mental image as Dick got up to shift some furniture and make room for you two to spar. Dick was more pleasant than Damian, but no less of a difficult opponent. At least you could confidently say you were getting good experience in sizing up when you were fighting a losing battle, which was most of the time when you sparred with Dick, even if he was trying to go easy on you. You were just glad he was good at controlling the amount of force he exerted or you would be as black and blue as his suit.

The week had passed by with no further attacks from Parasis, just as Bruce had predicted. Kamila had finally begun replying to your messages, but only with short few-word answers, which you would take over no reply at all, even just as a reassurance that she was still alive and well.

Given whatever Parasis was planning was more than likely to happen on Saturday, you had been asked to leave early to return to Bruce’s mansion to go over the strategy. Even for Batman, you doubted that a simple strategy meeting would need so much time. Alfred hadn’t said it on the phone, but you were pretty sure Bruce was also looking to see if you had improved your combat skills since last time, which was a daunting prospect.

“You’ll be fine,” Dick had told you on the Friday afternoon ride back to Gotham. “He’s not going to expect you to be at our level overnight.”

Gertie, for her part, had been more than understanding about you leaving work early, suspiciously so. You had told her that Bruce had requested a follow-up regarding the project you had helped him with, which you suspected had fed into her willingness to pick up your slack. Your suspicions were only further confirmed when she stopped you on your way out, making you promise to ask Bruce if he had an interest in slightly older women, shuffling gleefully over to yell at a shouting kid when you had agreed.

You had entered through the front door this time, Alfred insisting on having you sit down for dinner, dismissing your polite protests.

“If you are to go on a mission tomorrow, you need to be eating properly,” he had said as you followed him to the dining room. “Master Bruce is… busy, but I will call Master Damian down to join you.”

“I feel bad,” you said to Dick after Alfred had left to get Damian. “I don’t want to make Alfred go to so much trouble.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Dick replied. “Alfie likes family dinners, but with how busy Bruce always is, he doesn’t often get the chance to do them. I know I don’t visit as often as I probably should.”

“You’re right about that,” Damian agreed as he entered the room, taking the seat opposite Dick. “If you’re not here, whose ass will I kick at Swordwalkers?”

You recognized the name; some teenagers had been in the library the other day, all asking if you had the newest installment of that particular fighting game. Now that you thought about it, Damian seemed like the perfect target for a game like that, since he was both a highly skilled fighter and a teenaged boy.

“You’re bad at it?” you asked as Alfred brought out bowls of a tasty-looking stew.

“Terrible,” Damian answered before Dick could. “He can take out a room full of ninja assassins, but can’t figure out where the A button is without looking down.”

Dick ignored the jibe, instead tucking into his stew. “Great as always, Alfie.”

“Thank you, Master Dick,” Alfred replied proudly. “I was unsuccessful in my earlier attempt to coax Master Bruce into eating, so I would be grateful if you could bring his bowl down with you when you go.”

He was looking at you, and you stared back, confused. “You want me to do it?”

Alfred smiled a smile that told of the hardships he had endured with this particular issue. “When Master Bruce is busy, he does not often make time for basic life-sustaining necessities. Since he isn’t listening to me, I thought that maybe this situation required a woman’s touch.”

“He thinks father will agree if he catches him off guard,” Damian cut in.

“An astute butler uses all methods at his disposal,” Alfred replied, not denying Damian’s assertion.

You stared down at your almost-empty bowl of stew, feeling bewildered at the prospect of encouraging Batman to eat dinner like you were feeding a toddler cheerios.

“I can give it a try if you’d like,” Dick offered from your side. “You look like he just asked you to babysit Killer Croc.”

You appreciated Dick’s thoughtfulness, reluctantly agreeing to give it a try, following Dick and Damian down to the cave carrying a warm bowl of stew in your hands. Both boys came to a stop when you all caught sight of the dark figure sitting at the Batcomputer, and you took that as your cue to step forward.

“Um, Mr. Wayne?” you spoke up nervously, too nervous to just call him Bruce like a normal person, the man before you in full Batman getup minus his cowl turned in his chair to face you. “Alfred said you hadn’t eaten yet, so he gave me this to bring down for you.”

Bruce stared at you for a short moment before he held out a hand. “…fine. I wasn’t expecting Alfred to be so persistent this time.”

You retreated back as Bruce accepted the bowl and spoon and began to eat, relieved that you had gotten through it somehow. At the same time, a worrying thought occurred to you; how were you supposed to face Parasis again if you had this much trouble working up the courage to hand Batman his dinner?

“The Mr. Wayne was a nice touch,” Damian remarked as you approached. “Don’t think that’ll work when you fight him though.”

“Fight him?” You reeled back in shock.

Damian looked unimpressed, raising an eyebrow at you like you were an idiot, which he probably thought anyways. “You didn’t think he was going to send you out into the field without testing your abilities himself?”

You turned your terrified eyes to Dick, who sent you a sympathetic smile. “It’s a right of passage of sorts. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t budge.”

“He won’t kill you,” Damian added. “…probably.”

“Don’t scare her,” Dick rebuked Damian, who looked unfazed.

“Don’t coddle her,” Damian countered. “You’ve been training her by yourself the past week and we need to know what we have to work with tomorrow.”

You were too nervous about the imminent fight with Batman to be offended by Damian’s words, staring at the floor as your stomach twisted in knots. You had learned a lot from Dick over the past week, but Batman would have to be unconscious for you to stand any chance at beating him in a fight.

“You’ll be fine,” Dick’s reassuring voice came from your side. “We’ve both been in your place before.”

You didn’t look up, but froze in place at the next voice to talk.

“Suit up.”

You forced yourself to look up to see Bruce, who had finished his stew and now stood before you in full suit and cowl. You let out an internal sigh as you followed him to the training area, feeling like you were walking to your execution.

You stood twenty feet or so apart, unsure of when the fight would begin until Bruce suddenly darted at you. You backed up, nerves flaring up, but then Dick’s previous warning rang out in your head. If you let your opponent corner you, you were handing the fight to them on a silver platter. And you had no doubts that Bruce would happily take advantage of any weaknesses you presented to him. You didn’t think you could win this fight, but maybe you didn’t need to; if you could last long enough to impress Bruce even a tiny bit, then you would consider that a win.

You didn’t have the fancy moves Dick and Damian had, or the strength that Bruce had, so you would have to let your powers do the heavy lifting. When Bruce went in for a punch, you jolted back, creating a wall of light and propelling it forward to push him a few steps back.

You weren’t given a moment to relax as Bruce quickly darted around the wall and you were forced on the retreat. Bruce went to throw a kick your way, a kick which you discovered too late he had faked as you were grabbed and tossed across the room. Relying on training from Dick, you did your best to go with the momentum, altering your position so you would land a little less painfully. Side stinging, you got up as Bruce approached yet again and you mentally reminded yourself not to get in a real fight with him.

“Study your opponent,” Bruce instructed. “Adapt your style as you go. The last thing you want to be in a fight is predictable.”

Taking his advice, you created an illusion of yourself, sending it walking in the opposite direction you were. You didn’t want to injure Bruce, but you needed to prove to him that you were capable. You didn’t want Dick and Damian to look on at the fight and cringe. You knew they were watching, but you couldn’t divert your attention from Bruce for one second right now.

Bruce looked between the two yous and you tried to remain steady as you thought of a plan. What came to you was definitely an unconventional plan, but hey, they were the ones who had emphasized fast thinking.

You and your illusion stepped closer to Bruce, hoping to distract him as you stealthily created a thin pole of light on the ground behind him. Creating a spear of light in your and your illusion’s hands, you made like you were readying to attack him.

Bruce seemed to decide something, turning his attention towards you instead of your illusion, but you weren’t worried, not if he hadn’t caught onto what you were actually trying to do.

You took another step forward, goading Bruce into doing the same, and then you struck. The light pole you had made had been inching closer to the caped crusader, and at your command, it struck, slipping up under his cape and flipping it up over his head. Bringing two spears from the overhead lights, you sent them stabbing down, pinning his cape into the floor below.

Somewhat unsure of what you should be doing now, you ran at Bruce and leapt onto his back like a monkey. You were about to try and pin him to the ground like you had done to that one drug dealer, but a metallic click rang out and you then found yourself bucked over Bruce’s head as his cape fluttered to the ground. You were momentarily stunned as you sat in Bruce’s arms, as he had mercifully caught you after bucking you off his back like a horse.

“Not bad,” he said, placing you down on your feet. “You’re using your powers much better than you were before.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you stammered, not expecting the praise.

“One thing,” he said, leading you back to the Batcomputer. “Keep your eyes on your opponent, not your illusion. Your glances at it gave you away.”

“…oh.” So that was how he knew. Well, he at least didn’t seem upset by your performance in the fight.

“Remind me to return that cape I got on sale last week,” Dick remarked as he and Damian approached.

Now that you had seemingly passed his test, Bruce was back to business, pulling up the photos of the three scorned female ex-customers from Kamila’s dad’s firm. “I’ve eliminated all three from being Parasis. Two have been out of the country for years, and the last one is currently in prison. That doesn’t eliminate the possibility of Parasis acting on behalf of one of them, or another ex-customer, but the chance is very unlikely.”

Well that wasn’t the news you had been wanting to hear, especially the night before your friend and her mom were due to be attacked by a rogue villain. Who else could possibly want Kamila and her family dead?

“Do we have any other leads?” Dick asked. “Maybe the mother is the main target.”

“I considered that as well,” Damian added. “Why kill the one you hate the most first? It would be much more satisfying to get them after you’ve killed everyone they love.”

You blinked a few times, not quite believing you had just heard a fourteen-year-old say that. You had really found yourself in the middle of an interesting bunch of characters, to put things politely. You were just happy they were on your side.

“So what happens tomorrow?” Dick asked, staring at the Batcomputer’s giant monitor.

“Unless we get any new information, we trail Kamila and Eliana,” Bruce answered. “Damian and I will take Eliana, while you and Lightspear follow Kamila.”

“Kamila told me her plane home is at nine tomorrow night, so they’ll have to strike before then,” you informed the group.

“An all-day stakeout mission… great,” Damian said apathetically, boredly inspecting his fingernails.

“We have a trace on both of their phones, so they should be easy to track,” Bruce added. “You should get some rest before tomorrow. Alfred has set up the guest bedroom for you again.”

“Thanks,” you said awkwardly, finding it weird to talk to a fully-suited-up Batman about guest bedrooms.

“I’ll continue to research links between Eliana Parra and organized crime,” Bruce said as you turned to leave. “Be ready to go at six. We don’t know when Parasis will strike, and it could be early.”

“Is he going to sleep tonight?” you asked quietly as you left Bruce at his computer.

Damian shrugged, while Dick sighed.

“It’s a fifty-fifty chance,” Dick replied. “He always gets like this when there are holes in an investigation.”

You felt bad leaving Bruce to do so much of the work by himself, but you knew that you wouldn’t have much to offer tomorrow if you were too sleep-deprived to stand. Bruce had been doing this whole hero thing for much longer than you had, so you’d have to trust him on this one.

Damian split from you and Dick, muttering something about checking on Alfred, leaving you and Dick to walk down the hall that led to both of your rooms. Even though you had been constantly alone with Dick over the past week, you had been unable to fully shake all of the nervousness you continued to feel.

It felt so wrong, worrying about a cute guy who was way out of your league when your best friend was in imminent mortal peril, but you couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from coming. You wanted comfort, you didn’t want to be alone right now, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to impose on a guy who had clearly had chances to clearly express an interest in you but hadn’t. Well, after tomorrow, you wouldn’t have to see him all the time, which would probably help quash your pesky infatuation with the handsome vigilante.

Saying goodnight to Dick, you entered your room, hoping to get some semblance of sleep before you went into battle. You just hoped that tomorrow wouldn’t end with Kamila’s death.

Alfred was a godsend, you decided, as you sat at the table eating an already-made breakfast.

You had woken up at five, too nervous to sleep in any longer, and had been sitting up in bed staring at the wall when there had been a knock on your door, which had revealed Alfred with a breakfast invitation.

Damian walked in with a yawn just as you were finishing your toast, Dick coming down not long after.

“So this is where you were,” Dick said, taking a seat next to you as Damian begun to dig into some eggs with incredible table manners.

Dick had been looking for you? You stared back at him, trying not to look too flustered.

“I thought you’d have trouble sleeping,” he admitted. “I was going to check on you, but your room was empty so I came down here.”

“I slept okay,” you said, suddenly not feeling like eating the rest of your food. “I’m just worried about how today is going to end.”

“It’ll be fine,” he replied softly. “You’re not going in alone this time. You’ve got all of us with you.”

“What if I let you down?” you pressed. “What if something happens to you or Damian or–”

“Then we’ll handle it,” he said, not denying the possibility. “But don’t undersell yourself. If you act on instinct, you’ll surprise yourself.”

“…right,” you sighed, deciding to attempt to shift gears and lighten the mood. “Sorry you’re stuck with me all day. I can ask Damian to switch with me if you guys want some boy time.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Trying to get rid of me? Is this about the thing with Gertie?”

“Oh, god no,” you laughed, before remembering your last conversation with her. “Maybe she should have been paired with Bruce. She wouldn’t let me leave until I promised her I’d ask if he was into older women.”

“Can we not talk about father’s dating life right now,” Damian cut in disgustedly.

“If you have finished your breakfast, I would suggest getting into costume. Master Bruce is especially poor at waiting,” Alfred spoke up.

You turned to Dick and the empty space on the table in front of him. “You already ate?”

He smiled. “I was up at four.”

“Like a kid on Christmas morning,” you said with a shake of your head, although you weren’t exactly a stranger to being up at all hours of the night either.

“Comes with the job,” Dick shrugged, getting up, which prompted you and Damian to do the same. “Meet you in the cave in five?”

“Sounds good,” you replied, heading back upstairs with the two vigilantes.

Donning your upgraded costume, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, turning on one of your palm lights to make sure they worked before exiting the bathroom. After wearing this costume only a few times, you couldn’t imagine going back to your old store-bought one.

Examining your mask up-close, you ran a finger over the new metallic inside. This was it. Kamila’s fate today sat in your hands, and you were determined not to let anything happen to her, not if you could help it.

Storing your phone in your pocket, you left the room at last, making your way down to the Batcave to find everyone else already there and suited up. Feeling like you were late to the party, you walked towards the group, feeling nervous.

With a short glance your way, Bruce began. “We have no new information on the ex-clients, but we’ve established a link between Parasis and the Gray Dragons. It’s likely that they’re the ones supplying her with men.”

“Gray Dragons? I thought she was working with Poison Ivy,” you said.

Bruce shook his head. “Poison Ivy wouldn’t concern herself with something like this. It’s likely that Parasis made a deal with her in exchange for making her drug more potent, but Parasis needs men for whatever she has planned today.”

“So she linked up with a gang?” Dick finished.

“They’re likely the same gang that lured you into going to the warehouse,” Bruce said to you, bringing forth a memory of the time you had decided it would be a great idea to jump in on a gangster-infested drug deal. You felt so stupid, thinking back on that moment from not-so-long-ago.

“Have we been able to find anything out about when they intend to strike?” you asked. “Kamila told me she was probably gonna spend most of the day studying in a café downtown.”

“Their usual communication channel has been radio silent,” Bruce answered. “Alfred will be monitoring all of the usual frequencies while we’re out today in case communications resume.”

“Well what are we waiting for? We’ve got an old lady to stalk…” Damian said, not sounding incredibly enthused as he made his way over to the Batmobile.

“Stay in communication,” Bruce said as he made his way to the Batmobile as well. “If anything happens, contact us for help. I mean it, Dick.”

“Yeah, you got it, Bruce,” Dick replied, leaving you wondering why Bruce had emphasized it like that to Dick.

You waited until the sound of the Batmobile’s engine started up, quickly speeding up the pathway out before turning to Dick as he handed you a helmet.

“What was that about?” you asked.

“Er…” Dick smiled, looking sheepish. “Since I’ve been in Bludhaven, I try to do things on my own. I don’t want to be the me I was when I was Robin, always relying on Bruce for everything. With that shift in mentality, I admit I’m not the best at always returning calls lately.”

That was a surprise, but you supposed you could understand the feeling of striking out on your own, especially after he had been Batman’s sidekick for so long.

“I’m just glad you answered my call that night,” you replied softly. “Or else it would be me we’re hearing about in the news.”

“Well if we do our job well, the biggest story tonight will be the weather forecast,” Dick replied, leading you over to his bike before donning his own helmet.

You got on the bike behind Dick, silently jealous of Damian, who got to ride in a much safer vehicle. It wasn’t that Dick was a bad driver, but it was hard to beat the allure of a specially-reinforced bulletproof vehicle for a mission.

“Remember, only code names in the field,” Dick said, starting up the bike.

“Code na–?” You were cut off as the bike started up and you were forced to cling to Dick for dear life.

The ride into Bludhaven wasn’t too bad, but your nerves made it hard to focus, as you couldn’t stop worrying about the unknown. When would Parasis strike? Would you be able to stop her in time? Your mind was a jumbled mess of worries as Dick pulled into an alleyway near the coffee shop you knew Kamila would be at.

“Is it okay to just leave the bike here?” you asked dubiously. This was a nicer part of Bludhaven, but nowhere here was truly guaranteed to be free of crime.

Dick shrugged, grabbing an escrima stick from his back. “The bike can defend itself.”

“It can what?” you replied.

Dick just grinned in response, grabbing you around the waist with one arm before shooting his grappling line at the roof of the building opposite the coffee shop. Not expecting the action, you let out an embarrassingly loud yelp, legs feeling wobbly when you landed safely on the roof.

“Can you at least warn me when you’re going to do that?” you griped, feeling weary. Was everyone in this line of work an adrenaline junkie but you?

“Sorry,” he replied politely, peering over the edge of the building at the coffee shop below. “You said she’ll be here most of the day, right? Maybe I should have brought folding chairs.”

At the time, you had laughed, but as the day went on, you were wishing you did have a chair to sit in. Kamila had arrived at the little coffee shop at eight-thirty, and had replied to your text wishing her luck with her studies by sending you a picture of her books spread out on the table, a fancy latte just off to the side along with what looked to be a blueberry muffin.

You had been fine with the stakeout for the first few hours, but by two in the afternoon you were an unpleasant combination of sleepy, hungry and sore. You had thought that this would be the easy part of your day, but it certainly wasn’t turning out that way so far.

“Hey, I’ll grab us some lunch,” Dick said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. “Can you handle things here for ten minutes or so?”

“Sure,” you agreed. It was busy on the streets, and Kamila wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, not exactly prime conditions for kidnapping.

“Be back soon,” he said, before leaping off the roof.

You could only hope that Bruce and Damian were having a relatively easy time tailing Kamila’s mother. Speaking of which, Dick had showed you how to use the communication device in your new mask…

Activating the link, you spoke up, keeping your eyes on Kamila through the coffee shop window. “No movement here. Dick’s out getting us some food. How are things with you guys?”

The reply came immediately.

“You guys get food? I should’ve asked Pennyworth for a chicken and jalapeno sandwich before we left,” came Damian’s surly voice. “It’s only two and this old lady has been to two hair salons, a nail salon and five dress stores. If I have to watch her try on one more hideous dress, then I’m going to go down there and do Parasis’ job for–”

“We’ll update if we have any new information,” Bruce interrupted, and then the feed cut out.

You giggled to yourself; it seems like you had definitely lucked out in the subject and partner departments after all. As cool as it would be to partner with Batman on a mission, you weren’t sure if you could take the oppressive seriousness that always seemed to surround him. Dick’s comparatively more easygoing nature made him a better choice to partner with, even if it was hard to fully let go of all the awkwardness you had been feeling around him lately.

Before you could ruminate too much on that particular touchy subject, Dick returned, carrying a paper bag from a nearby fast food chain.

Taking the burger he offered your way, you stared at him curiously. “So did you just walk in and grab these?”

“Went through the drive-through,” he answered, taking a bite out of his own burger. “These aren’t as good as the ones at the diner, but it beats what Batman and Robin are doing.”

“You heard?” you laughed. “I knew Kamila’s mom was high-maintenence, but…”

“Robin is probably swearing vengeance on us as we speak,” Dick replied, and you would’ve laughed if your mouth hadn’t been overtaken by a long yawn. “First stakeout?”

“Yeah,” you answered tiredly. “There was never a need to trail anyone in my hometown, since the biggest crimes we had there were kids tagging train cars. It’s still hard to believe that I’m working with Batman and fighting people like Poison Ivy.”

“Hope you’re ready, since it doesn’t get any easier from here,” he replied, observing you for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. “Hey, in honor of your first stakeout, how would you like a one-time special offer? I’ve never even offered this one to Batman.”

“What?” you replied, puzzled by the sudden flourish to his words.

“You look tired,” he said kindly, gesturing his way with a wave. “I think we’ll still be here for a while, so my shoulder is available if you want to get a quick nap in.”

“Oh…” you breathed, recovering quickly enough given your surprise. “I would hope you had never offered that to Batman. I’d be scared to even try.”

“So?” Dick pressed with a teasing smile. “I promise to wake you up if anything happens.”

“I…” His offer was tempting, but not one that was so easily accepted. How would it look if you were sleeping on the job on your first serious mission?

“No one’s looking down on you,” he added. “But we’re likely going to have a fight on our hands tonight, and I need my partner as well-rested as possible, so really, you’re doing me a favor.”

Clicking your tongue, you sidled up to him, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “I get it, no need for the reverse-psychology.”

“Hey, I’ve gotta make some use out of those mandatory psych classes,” Dick quipped back, bringing one arm up to wrap around your side to keep you firmly against him.

You wanted to laugh, or be embarrassed by the close contact, but as it was finally given the opportunity to make up for lost sleep, your body took advantage of its opportunity, your eyes sliding closed as you slumped against Dick’s body and fell quickly asleep.

You were pleasantly warm and comfortable as you came back into awareness. Keeping your eyes closed, you began to recall your situation in full, from the mission, to your position on the roof across from the coffee shop, to your current predicament. You had remembered falling asleep on Dick’s shoulder, but it certainly didn’t feel like a shoulder under your head right now.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the underside of Dick’s chin. Blinking sleepily, you realized that your head had gone from resting against his shoulder to laying in his lap.

“Feeling well rested?” he asked, reaching down to brush some hair away from where it covered one of the eyes of your mask in a gesture that made your cheeks flush. “Hope you don’t mind the change in position; my shoulder was getting a bit sore.”

He didn’t seem eager to rush you off his lap, but you reluctantly sat up anyways, finding the position hard to stand now that you were fully awake and aware of your confusing feelings for Dick. You wished you could gather up the courage to ask him what he was feeling, but now wasn’t the time.

“How long was I out?” you asked, sitting up and peering over the edge of the roof to see Kamila in the same spot she had been in before you had dozed off.

“Uh, just over two hours?” Dick replied, trying to sound casual. “And before you freak out, all you missed was a minor car accident and Kamila getting a second drink.”

Two hours?! You were lucky that Batman wasn’t here or you were sure you’d get a lecture on standards of vigilante professionalism.

“I didn’t mind,” Dick added. “I’d rather have you rest now than pass out when the action starts, which is, uh, when did Kamila say she was studying here until?”

“Six,” you answered. “Then she’s heading back to her mom’s place to grab her stuff and then go catch her flight.”

“Then we’ll probably be on the move soon,” Dick replied. “It’s twenty minutes to six.”

Checking your phone, you found that he was right, as well as a text from Kamila that read if I don’t ace this final, then I’m suing the Bludhaven P.D. for this officer talking my ear off while I’m trying to study! Replying with your condolences, you stowed your phone back in your pocket, fixing your eyes on the street below.

“If she’s going to be attacked, they’ll do it on the streets,” Dick said from next to you. “One police officer isn’t going to make a difference to a gang like the Gray Dragons.”

“What’s the plan then?” you asked. Considering how much experience he had on you, and how your last plan had gone, you knew you were better off trusting Dick’s experience on this one.

“We stick to the roofs,” Dick answered. “It’s getting dark out and we want to keep them from noticing us until they make a move.”

“Got it,” you said, although the prospect of more swinging around on his grapple line had you feeling weary.

The twenty odd minutes you waited for Kamila to leave the coffee shop felt like a minute and an hour at the same time. Your stomach was in knots as you watched her pack her books in her bag before leaving the coffee shop to head home. Chest tightening with anxiety, you took Dick’s hand, allowing him to pull you to his side in order to begin your rooftop pursuit of your friend.

Kamila walked down the busy street for a while, any person getting the slightest bit closer to her sending your nerves into overdrive, but none of them so much as stopped her to ask for the time. Just as you were beginning to calm yourself down to a manageable level of panic, Kamila turned off the main street, heading down an alleyway.

You wanted to shout at her not to go that way, to jump down and get her out of there, but you couldn’t. If you blew your cover now, then you doubted you would have as much information the next time Parasis decided to go after her. Your best chance of saving Kamila and taking down Parasis was to put a stop to this all now while the chance was presenting itself to you.

The police officer trailing behind Kamila looked bored, and seemed to be playing on his phone as he walked five or so feet behind her. He was probably just excited about being off protection duty starting tomorrow, clearly already having discounted the possibility of anything happening to Kamila tonight. And here that salty news reporter had called vigilantism the biggest threat to the safety of the people of Bludhaven.

It was only when Kamila was near the end of the alleyway that you could breathe a minute sigh of relief, one that you quickly discovered had been woefully miscalculated. You took a step towards the next rooftop, eyes on Kamila below, feeling like she might come out of this okay.

“Lightspear!”

There was a harsh tug on your hand and you were pulled into Dick’s body as he took cover behind a broad chimney. An impact against the roof behind you had you turning to see a dark purple sphere where you had been standing. The sphere had begun leaking some kind of dark gas, which you quickly mitigated by creating a box of light over the sphere, the black gas quickly blocking the sphere entirely from view as it became heavily thick within the confines of the small box.

“What the hell is tha–”

A female scream from below interrupted your words and you focus and you turned your gaze below to see Kamila now surrounded by men in gray suits and masks. With a curse, you abandoned the smoking orb, allowing Dick to grab you and drop you both down to the alleyway below.

“Haven’t you heard that gray washes you out?” Dick called out to the men, pulling his escrima sticks from his back while you created a long spear for yourself.

The gray dragons clearly had no shortage of men. There were at least twenty packed in the narrow alleyway, half of which had already taken out the police officer and were dragging a struggling Kamila out of the alleyway and towards a waiting car.

There wasn’t a lot of time to talk, so you both jumped into action, Dick running in and easily knocking two men aside with a slash from his sticks. Standing farther back, you targeted the mens’ weapons, sending your spear through the barrel of their guns before pulling it back out, rendering the now-damaged guns useless.

It was obvious to you and the men that you were the weaker of your duo, so you weren’t surprised to find more attention being directed at you over Dick, who was fighting his way towards Kamila, who was nearly at the car now.

The threat of the advancing masked men forced your attention away from Dick and Kamila and onto the impending fight you had on your hands. You had broken their guns, but even without weapons, the bulky gang members wouldn’t be easy for you to win against in a fair fight, so it was a good thing that it wasn’t.

You created a wall in front of you, using it to push the men back away from you like you had done with Batman before splitting the wall into tiny splinters of light, leaving them in the air between you and the men as you took up a fighting stance with your spear.

The men around you seemed confused, but not undeterred by your light chips, running at you, only to impale themselves on the sharp slivers of light, quickly retreating back and picking the slivers out of their flesh as their blood stained their clothes. Hoping the slivers would serve as both a warning and a distraction, you charged forward, the sliver storm ahead of you moving as well and forcing the men to either side of the alley as you ran past.

Ahead of you, Dick had taken out a few men already, their bodies slumped down on the ground or against the equally-grimy alley walls. He was currently fighting his way through a group of men who were blocking the two that were lunging Kamila into the car, and though he was easily outclassing them in terms of skill, there were too many of them and too little time.

You sent the light chips behind you to keep the group you had escaped at bay, sprinting forward to try and reach Kamila, but there just wasn’t enough time. You heard the desperation in Kamila’s cries for help, saw the fear in her eyes, but then the car door was shut, the car quickly driving away at a rate of speed you could never hope to match on foot.

Turning around, you found that the men you had injured had all fled, the alley behind you bare except for small patches of shed blood. A sound behind you had you turning to see Dick kick the last standing man into the wall, where he slumped unconscious from the impact.

“Nightwing, they took her!” you cried, remembering not to use his real name at the last second in your panic.

You both rushed out of the alleyway, looking down the street to catch one last glimpse of the black van as it sped out of view.

Cursing, Dick activated his comm. “The Gray Dragons got Kamila. Dragged her into a black van with tinted windows.”

“The old lady was taken as well,” Damian replied. “They sent around fifty men after her and we only just finished taking them all out.”

“Do we still have the track on their phones?” you asked desperately. You didn’t see Kamila’s bag on the ground, but that didn’t mean that the gang hadn’t thrown it out the window the first chance they got.

“Both traces are still moving,” came Alfred’s voice. “They seem to be heading for the portside warehouses near the stadium.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Dick said, turning to meet your eyes when Bruce spoke up.

“You’ll have to go alone,” his deep voice responded. “We’ve just gotten reports that Parasis’ men have poisoned the water supply with cherry and destroyed the failsafe. Robin and I will go to the water treatment plant to stop it, you and Lightspear go after Parasis and recover the victims.”

You frowned. Either she wanted to take out the entirety of Bludhaven now, or she wanted all of you out of her way, and you knew which possibility you would bet on.

“Stay safe,” you said as Dick pressed a button on one of his sticks.

Damian snorted. “I should be saying that to you. Don’t expect me to go easy on you in Swordwalkers later if you get yourself poisoned again, Nightwing.”

Dick sighed as the comms dropped. “With little brothers like him, who needs enemies?”

With a screech of tires, Dick’s bike pulled up right outside the alleyway, assumedly in response to the button he had pushed. Wordlessly, you climbed on behind him, the bike taking off towards the west end of town.

Following Alfred’s trace work, you arrived at a warehouse at least twice the size of the one Parasis had previously used. You didn’t see the car Kamila had been abducted into, or really any vehicles in the area, minus a rusty bicycle on its side in the patchy grass.

Dismounting from the bike, you approached the gate, staring ahead at the building just beyond it.

“You okay?” Dick asked, stopping beside you.

“Yeah, I… let’s just go in,” you replied, trying to keep your emotions at bay. You could freak out later, after Kamila and her mom were safe and Parasis was arrested.

“Hey,” you turned to look at Dick, his hand on your shoulder. “I’m here with you. Just keep fighting like you did back in that alleyway and we’ll be fine.”

But they had still taken Kamila, you wanted to say, but held yourself back. Dick was trying to bring up your morale, being nice like he always was, and so you just nodded, creating a ball of light to guide your way through the evening dark.

It was unsettlingly quiet, the only things you could hear as you approached being your combined footsteps in the solid dirt. Dick pushed the door open, heading fearlessly into the warehouse with you on his heels.

At first, it looked like an average warehouse, pallets of boxes stacked to one side, but the illusion of normalcy was shattered the moment you looked to the rest of the room.

You didn’t see Kamila, but you immediately spotted Parasis at the back of the room, Kamila’s mother right beside her in what looked to be a sadistic version of a dunk tank. Eliana was gagged and shackled to the back wall of the tank by metal bands around her limbs and neck above a tank of medicine-red liquid that was all-too-familiar to you.

Rushing towards them, you were stopped about halfway into the room by a harsh tug on your arm, Dick pulling you back to him. You looked back at him, confused and frustrated, but Parasis spoke up before you could ask why he had pulled your arm.

“You’re just in time,” she called out. “Are you ready to observe my final act? Come a little closer.”

“Drop the electric fence and we might,” Dick shot back.

At his words, you squinted at the area before you and found that you were just barely able to make out a grid of electric current running from ceiling to floor.

“Maybe I will,” she purred. “But not for you. Come to me, Lightspear. After all, you’re the only one who understands why this has to happen.”

What? She had barely told you anything in your previous interaction, so how were you supposed to know the reason behind what she was doing? Dick was the more experienced investigator of the two of you, so logically he was the one who would have a better chance of guessing her motives.

“Unfortunately, we come as a pair today,” Dick replied with a cocky grin. “Take it or leave it.”

“My invitation is extended only to Lightspear, bat freak,” she hissed. “But fortunately, I’ve got a different offer in mind for you.”

Behind Parasis, Kamila’s mother wailed against her gag, struggling in vain against her binds.

“Decide fast, Lightspear,” Parasis taunted. “Maybe I won’t be so generous in a minute or two. And don’t worry about Nightwing, he won’t be lonely for long.”

Hearing a fizzing noise, you turned back to see another of those smoking orbs sailing your way and were forced to dive one way while Dick dove in the other direction. As soon as you gained your bearings, you entrapped the orb in another box of light, trying to contain the smoke before it spread, but it had already provided the gang with the distraction they needed.

Men in similar gray outfits and masks ran out from behind the boxes, their numbers even greater than they had been back in the alleyway. You summoned a spear, preparing yourself for a fight, but were surprised when the men ran straight past you and right at Dick.

You were left momentarily stunned until Parasis spoke up again.

“Now that he’s busy, last chance, Lightspear,” she said, and you watched as a door-sized space opened up in the electrified lattice wall.

You looked frantically between her and Dick, who was busy fighting the group of men that surrounded him. “Nightwing!”

“Go!” he shouted back, kicking a man in the stomach before turning to block another man’s knife with one stick. “I’ll be fine, just go!”

You sent him one last reluctant look before walking forward through the electric wall to the other side of the warehouse, still unsure of what Parasis wanted with you specifically.

“Let her go,” you demanded. “Whatever this family has done to you, this is wrong.”

“Wrong?” Parasis echoed. “Not everyone lives in a perfect world, Lightspear, not that I would expect you to understand that.”

“Then what am I supposed to understand?” you shot back. “You really think killing an entire family will solve your problems?”

“No, but it’ll make me feel better,” she laughed. “Revenge isn’t about practicality. It’s about inflicting pain on others like they inflicted on you.”

“But what did they do to you?” you asked. “If you lost money, there are better ways of–”

“I’ve lost a lot,” she replied simply. “And here I thought you would realize why this is happening. You were the only one who knew even the smallest fraction of my pain.”

“I…” Your words dried up in your throat. What was she talking about?

Parasis let out a frustrated sigh, holding up a phone and pressing a few buttons. Immediately, the phone in your pocket began to vibrate.

Pulling your phone out, you saw Kamila’s name on the screen along with her contact photo, a selfie of you two at a birthday party, both of you grinning at the camera, wearing matching heart-shaped glasses over your eyes. You remembered that day, it had been not long before Kamila had moved in with her aunt.

But if Parasis was calling you from Kamila’s phone… your heart felt like it was about to stop. Did Parasis know who you really were?

“What have you done with Kamila?” you demanded, stepping closer.

“Nothing,” she dismissed. “Now answer the phone.”

Why was she doing this? You were aware from Dick’s insight that villains liked to be overdramatic, but you couldn’t see the point of this particular stunt. You were already talking to her, so what point was there to talk on the phone when you were fifteen feet apart?

Not wanting her to become angry and send Kamila’s mom into the liquid cherry, you complied, pressing the accept call button and raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello…?” you spoke uncomfortably into the phone.

“Hi,” Parasis said back, greeting you by name, the sound coming from your phone and right in front of you. You could only watch in horror as her mask plate retracted to reveal…

“…Kamila?”

It felt like time had frozen as you stared at the face of your oldest friend, a sadistic glint in her eyes that you had never seen before. Staring at her now, your limbs felt frozen. How could this be happening?

“You don’t wanna talk?” she asked with false sweetness in her voice. “You’ve been texting me non-stop lately. Fine. We’ll move onto the action then.”

She hung up the call, approaching her mother, whose muffled cries only got more frantic as her daughter approached. “I decided I would save mom for last.”

Your brain finally began to work again as you watched the scene before you. But if Kamila was Parasis…

“…then she killed her dad and Emile,” you mumbled to yourself before speaking to Kamila. “How could you turn into a killer?”

“A killer?” she replied, sounding bored. “Maybe for dad, but Emile… that was all on him. All I did was dangle the carrot, and that little junkie ate it up.”

Kamila had a small smile on her face, like she was telling you a funny story, her words making you feel sick with horror.

“But he... they…”

“They were nothing to me!” she snarled. “But it’s only fair, since I’ve always been nothing to them!”

“Kamila…”

“They sent me away,” she growled. “All so they would have more money and time to put into Emile. Emile, who couldn’t piss clean on a drug test if his life depended on it. I had to wear shoes until the soles burned out, had to use the same backpack since kindergarten, all so the poor little druggie could have everything he ever wanted.”

You had noticed some of that in your childhood, but had at the time chalked it up to Kamila’s parents maybe having money problems. She mostly came over to your house when you were younger, so you hadn’t been around her family much.

“They never wanted me, so they shipped me off to whoever would take me,” she said, briefly glancing at her mom, who was still trying to scream through her gag. “Did you know she’s only called me twice since she abandoned me? Once when Emile died, and then again with dad. And now you’re all alone, aren’t you, mom? As alone as I was all those years. And your husband and golden boy are in the ground feeding the worms. But don’t worry, you’ll be with them soon.”

“You don’t have to do this!” you appealed, looking from Kamila to her mother. This all felt like a bad dream, but you had to stop her. You could distantly hear Dick still fighting behind you, but forced yourself to keep your mind on the problem in front of you.

“Yes, I do,” Kamila retorted. “I guess I misunderstood you, or you would understand why this bitch has to die.”

You frowned at the villain before you that happened to have the same face as your best friend. There wasn’t a single thing you recognized in her hateful expression; the way she was right now, she felt like a stranger. You felt sad for her, going through all that she had, all while you were none the wiser, but this wasn’t the way to solve her problems. Though you had to admit it was clearly a little late for that approach, considering she had killed two out of three of her targets, not to mention the multitude of other drug users who had the misfortune to run across her supply of cherry.

“Kamila, I can’t let you kill your mother,” you said solemnly.

She regarded you as if you were an ant under her boot. “I really should’ve killed you last time then. I didn’t know it was you until after, but I won’t let you stop me. With how long we’ve known each other, I really thought you would be the only one to understand me.”

She reached one hand down, plucking a remote off of her belt and slowly stroking along the length of it with one finger as she turned her attention to her mother.

“We’re shorter on time than I thought, so we’ll have to skip the mother-daughter bonding sesh,” she sneered, glaring smugly at her incapacitated mother. “Say hi to dad and Emile for me when you’re rotting next to them.”

She raised her other hand, obviously intent on pressing the button that would release her mother’s restraints and send her into the cherry water to die. Dick wasn’t going to be able to save you this time, so you would have to put everything you had been taught into action, and fast.

Before she could press the button, the remote was knocked out of her hands by a bolt of light you sent at her. The sting of the bolt made her drop the remote, and you quickly impaled it into the ground, splitting the small remote in two.

“You–!” Kamila seethed, looking from the broken remote on the floor over to you, face twisted in anger. “You would choose my bitch of a mother over me? Nice to know for sure where your loyalties lie.”

Did she seriously think you were just going to let her kill her mom in front of you? She was so delusional that it wasn’t funny. Watching her now, you began to get the feeling that she didn’t really get who you were as much as she accused you of being the same way with her.

She glared your way before turning to approach the torturous dunk tank, the action letting you know that you weren’t quite done here. There was likely some sort of manual release on the machine, which was something you couldn’t allow her to use either.

Not bothering with a warning, you created a spear, throwing it at Kamila and forcing her to leap backwards to avoid being hit by it. Not giving her a moment to breathe, you continued to send spear after spear her way, giving her no choice but to back away from the tank as you advanced, placing yourself in between Kamila and her mother.

Holding a spear at your side, you approached Kamila, who looked not unlike a cornered animal. “Kamila, you need to stop this. I don’t want to hurt you. We can get you help, we–”

“Don’t preach at me!” she shrieked, furious. “Don’t fucking preach at me! I’ll kill you too if that’s what it takes!”

You were taken aback by her rabid anger, even more so when she charged straight at you like a raging bull. Luckily for you, she was sloppy in her anger, and you easily moved back to avoid the punch she threw at your face.

“Just die!” she screamed. “Fucking die and get out of my way!”

She was kicking and scratching at you like a wild animal, a kick to your side knocking you back, but not out. Looking back, you realized that you had allowed her to push you too close to her mother’s tank, something you could not allow if you wanted to keep her away from the manual release. That was one lesson of Dick’s that you clearly hadn’t mastered.

Using your minor distraction, Kamila leapt at you, shoving you harshly to the ground before dashing past you and towards the tank.

Side stinging, you scrambled to turn to face the tank, only to see that Kamila was nearly at the large lever on the side wall of the tank. You had only this moment to act before her mother drowned in the liquid cherry.

As Kamila reached the lever, hand outstretched to pull it down, you materialized a spear, sending it straight into the glass of the tank with a determined shout. As she pulled the lever down, you wrenched the spear across the tank, slicing a long horizontal cut through the glass. The cherry rushed from the tank, spilling and running across the floor. Kamila’s mother fell, hitting the floor of the tank, the cherry only up to her ankles as it continued to spill out.

Kamila let out an enraged scream, moving to run at her mother, but you got to her first, encircling her wrists in cuffs made of light.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed as you approached. “I’ll kill her! I need to kill her!”

“It’s a little late for that.” You turned to see Dick striding up to you and Kamila. “Your dunk tank of death looks more like a kiddie pool now.”

As Dick took over for you, grabbing Kamila by her arm, you heard the doors to the warehouse burst open, dozens of police officers filtering into the room. You watched as a few rescued Kamila’s mother from the tank, several others coming to take Kamila from Dick. You watched the scene, your boots sticky from the cherry underfoot, as Kamila was dragged away, screaming insults as she went.

“We took care of things over here,” Dick spoke into his comm. “The police have taken Parasis into custody and Eliana is safe."

“What about Kamila?” Bruce replied.

Dick looked to you, and you swallowed before answering. “Kamila is Parasis. She, uh…”

“Understood,” Bruce replied, not pressing you to force yourself to talk any more about it. “We were able to stop the contaminated water from being circulated.”

“We took out at least fifty gang members each,” Damian added. “They were way too easy. It was like they learned how to fight by watching martial arts videos for toddlers.”

“Is everything handled over there?” Bruce asked, his words belying his silent offer of assistance.

“Yeah,” Dick answered. “The police can take care of arresting all the Gray Dragons here, so we’ll take our leave before they get an itchy handcuff finger.”

“Right. Good work,” Bruce replied, and then the communications cut out.

The whole warehouse was a mess. The cherry had run halfway across the warehouse, police officers slipping and sliding as they pulled up and cuffed the gang members that lay scattered all over the floor. Clearly they had been no match for Dick, but that didn’t explain one thing.

“How did you get past the electric grid?” you asked as you both made your way out, leaving footprints in wet red as you walked out of the large puddles of cherry.

“The cherry short-circuited it when you broke the tank,” he replied. “That was smart. You saved the mother and caught Parasis without hurting her.”

“I just wish I felt better about it,” you said glumly. “I almost didn’t act in time.”

“But you did,” Dick insisted as you both climbed onto his bike. “I’ll take you home. Get some sleep and we can talk more tomorrow.”

Nodding, you held onto Dick as he started up the bike, still having a hard time believing your hectic night was finally at an end.

The next evening found you on Dick’s couch, hugging a pillow to your chest as you watched the T.V. in horror.

”It was terrible, Bethany,” Eliana Parra spoke tearfully. “How could I have raised such a monster?”

“You said she had a perfect childhood?” Bethany probed gently.

“We were always the perfect family,” Eliana replied. “I think she got into drugs that messed up her brain. She was everything to us, to her brother, but she had a nasty jealous streak. Always has.”

“Such a sad story,” Bethany said with a shake of her head. “The Parra family has created a fundraiser for associated costs, which you can donate to at this website. This has been Bethany Snow of Channel 52.”

You sunk back into the couch with a scowl as it went to commercials.

“You okay?” Dick asked from the other end of the couch.

You let out a frustrated huff. “Am I supposed to feel good now that we saved the day? That we saved a woman like that?”

“Bad parent or not, you did the right thing,” he replied. “It’s not our role to judge who is and isn’t worthy of being saved. You saved a life yesterday, that’s something to be proud of.”

You sighed dispiritedly. “Does it ever get easier?”

“No,” he answered. “But all days aren’t the same. You just need to remember the days when you were able to make a difference… or you could just do what Damian does.”

“What Damian…?”

Ten minutes later, you laughed as you executed a perfect combo, reducing Dick’s character’s health to zero.

“You know more martial arts than Jackie Chan, how are you so bad at this?” you asked teasingly.

“I don’t often have time for stuff like this,” he admitted. “I only knew how to set the system up because I’ve watched Damian do it before.”

“Clearly you didn’t watch him play then,” you said, unable to resist taking one more cheap shot at his incredibly poor video game performance. You had never played this particular game before, but you had still made incredibly quick work of the match, and the following two.

You giggled at his sulky demeanor, his pout turning into a smile and catching you off guard with the sudden intensity in his eyes that you were having a hard time deciphering. You were trying to think of what to say to dispel the odd feeling that had taken over the moment, but Dick was faster.

“I’ll happily take the defeat if that’s what it takes to get you smiling again,” he said with a smile of his own. “I’d even take you yelling at me again, although I hope I’ve proven myself to be trustworthy to you by now.”

“You nearly died just to protect me,” you said, glancing at the T.V. as the news came back on, a reporter covering a story on unusual weather on the other side of the country. “You helped me take on a fight that wasn’t your problem to begin with. How could I not trust you after all that?”

“You didn’t make it easy,” he replied playfully.

“Well you put a tracker on my phone, and stared my underwear and–”

You cut yourself off as you realized that his voice had sounded closer than before, looking over to see that he had moved over, now within arm’s reach of you on the couch.

“What was that last one?” he asked with mock innocence.

You huffed, feeling shy. You shouldn’t have mentioned the underwear thing. No matter how stained your pants were, you would never wear a skirt out on a mission ever again. Why had you even said that? Way to make things even more awkward...

You turned back to face Dick, only to find him even closer now. “Uh–”

“I’ve actually been wanting to do this for a while,” he murmured, eyes drifting down to your lips before looking back up into your eyes.

“Kiss me or get your ass beat in Swordwalkers?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“As it happens, both,” he answered cheekily. “If that’s still okay with you.”

“Ugh!” you groaned. As much as you liked his voice, you would really like to stop hearing it right about now. You had waited long enough, the confirmation enough as you snuck a hand around the back of his head, pulling his mouth down to yours at last.

Dick groaned into the kiss, maneuvering your body so he could press you into the couch as you kissed, his tongue making you feel dizzy. One of his hands took hold of your thigh, encouraging your leg around his hip so he could press his body closer to yours.

You wove a hand into his hair, tugging at it as he rutted his hips against yours. His body caging yours in as you kissed would normally have been great, but the arm of the couch was really starting to press uncomfortably into your upper back, so you pushed on Dick’s chest and he immediately leaned back.

“You have a bed in this place, right?” you asked. “Because I’m not sure if I like you enough to wake up tomorrow with a couch arm-shaped dent in my back.”

He laughed in reply, getting up off the couch. “Nice to know you’re committed. I wasn’t sure if you were still interested for a while there.”

You stood up, mouth dropping open as you stared at him incredulously. “Me? You’re the one that almost kissed me and then didn’t mention it again!”

“Oh, uh…” He looked embarrassed, but you found it endearing, getting the feeling that he wasn’t like this often. “I felt like maybe I was coming on too strong, and then everything got serious with Parasis and I thought maybe the moment had passed.”

“Is that still what you think?” you asked. “That the moment has passed?”

Dick stared at you, his eyes dark as a smirk took over his face. “Not anymore. All I can think about is how bad I wanna get my mouth between your legs.”

You froze up, shocked by the sudden dirty talk, which Dick happily took advantage of. Scooping your frozen body up into his arms, Dick walked the few steps across the room to a door, kicking it open and depositing you onto the bed inside the room.

You crawled backwards on the bed, backing up to the backboard but keeping your eyes on Dick, who stood at the foot of the bed. He still had that sexy smirk on his face as he stared down at you, pausing to impatiently tug his sweater off and toss it to the side before climbing onto the bed with you.

You had briefly seen him shirtless before, but you had been unable to get the full look that you were currently getting, not that your attention was on his body for long as he reached for your hips.

You were expecting another kiss, but were surprised when he instead began pulling the fabric of your leggings down your legs, his fingers hooking into your panties and pulling them off you as well. He got the clothing off so quickly that it was already tossed halfway across the room by the time you regained your senses.

You felt weird in just your shirt and bra, and had been half-ready to just take them both off as well when Dick grabbed your legs, pushing them apart and quickly taking up the resulting space himself, his mouth on you before you could blink.

Dick easily lifted your hips up, his tongue eagerly pressing against your clit, your eyes flinching closed at the sudden strike of pleasure that shot up your spine. Crying out, you tried your best to open your eyes, but the sight of Dick’s head between your legs combined with what you were currently feeling was too much as you fisted the bed sheets, needing something to hold onto.

“You can pull my hair, I don’t mind,” he spoke against your skin, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to smack him or kiss him.

Dick worked your clit gently with a thumb as he set his mouth to work again, only further emboldened by the noises you couldn’t stop making as he blew all of your previous sexual encounters out of the water with his mouth and fingers. You couldn’t find the words to tell him how close you were, but he seemed to understand anyways, intensifying his work on your core until your pleasure crested over, with one unintentional and embarrassing side effect.

As Dick pushed you over the edge, you let out a pleasured cry, and then the room became almost blindingly bright as every light in the room shot on at full intensity. Startled, it took you a moment to gather your wits, scrambling to sit up before hurriedly extinguishing the lights and staring down at the bed, too embarrassed to look Dick in the face.

“That, uh… that’s never happened before,” you mumbled, cringing at how much you sounded like a guy with erectile dysfunction. You were such an idiot; you had these powers for how long and still lost control because of something like this? That’s what every guy wants mid-sexual-encounter, to be blinded by hospital-level brightness.

“Good,” Dick spoke slowly against your ear, his chin leaning on your shoulder. “I’ve never made a girl cum so hard that she lost control of her powers.”

You jolted back against him in shock, turning back to look at him, only to feel his grin against your lips as he kissed you. You allowed him to maneuver your body back to facing him, pulling you up onto his lap as he sat back on the bed.

“So I didn’t ruin everything?” you joked, your hands on his shoulders.

You sat fully down on his lap, and he let out a pleasured exhale of breath as you brushed against the noticeable bulge in the front of his jeans. His hands came up to sit on your hips, keeping you against him as he shallowly rutted up into you.

“No,” he groaned in reply. “There’s not much you could do to turn me off right now.”

“Good,” you said, feeling more confident now that you could see that he was truly putty in your hands right now.

His eyes were on you as his hands crept up your hips to your sides, taking hold of your shirt and starting to slide the material up and over your head. You were about to reach back and unhook your bra, but Dick was faster, unhooking the clasp with two fingers. As the bra straps began to slide forward on your arms, you realized that you shouldn’t be too surprised; after all, you had just received a very thorough demonstration of just what he could do with his fingers.

You let the bra drop down, gently tossing it away as Dick’s hand, still on your back, pushed you forward, allowing him to lean down and get his mouth on one of your breasts. You enjoyed the feeling, but refused to let him distract you completely from returning the pleasure he had been giving you.

Reaching a hand down, you ran a thumb along the length of his cock, very hard under the rough fabric of his jeans. He groaned against your breast, pulling away from you and leaving you on the bed to get up and remove the last of his clothes.

You felt a rush of excitement as he unzipped his pants, carefully pulling them and his underwear down and off. As he stepped out of the clothing, you laid back on the bed, inviting him with your eyes, Dick eagerly climbing onto the bed with you in response.

“Fast or slow?” he asked teasingly, nudging your legs apart so he could bring them over his hips.

You let out a shaky breath as you looked from his cock up the length of his body, stopping at his blue eyes, which were currently fixating on your panting form. “Dick…”

“Fast it is, then. I’m too worked up to go slow now, but we can save that for another time.”

The prospect of another time made sparks pop in your chest, but you still had the rest of this time to get to. You watched with growing impatience as Dick fished a condom from the top drawer of his bedside table, rolling it easily onto himself before turning his attention back to you.

“Take it easy on the lights this time,” he grinned. “Not sure how I would explain that one to an electrici–”

With a huff, you used your legs around him to tug him forward, intent on making him shut up with your mouth. Dick caught himself before he fell on you, bracing himself with a palm against the bed by your head, but didn’t resist the kiss you pulled him into, moaning against your mouth.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, just long enough to line himself up with your pussy before surging forward, slowly at first, and then pushing fully inside you once he found no resistance from your body. Dick let out a groan as he bottomed out inside you, pausing for only a moment against your breast before his hips went into motion.

At first, his thrusts were shallow, the smaller movements still feeling good, considering he was definitely bigger than you had had before, the tip of his cock pressing just where you needed it. But as pent-up as you both were, slow wasn’t going to cut it, and you both knew it. Quickly, the gentle rocking of his hips got faster, your fingers grasping at his body as he isolated the spot inside you that made you squirm with almost tactile precision.

His piercing blue eyes stared down into yours, Dick leaning down for another long kiss as you did your best to move your body along with his own.

“I’m really close,” he groaned, his nose brushing yours, eyelashes fluttering over his pretty blue eyes. “You’re so…”

His words were lost to a moan as your nails bit into his back and he continued to hammer his cock against your g-spot until he reached his own end, his cock hitting against you one last time before he stilled, his thumb working against your clit as he sucked a bruise onto the side of your neck to push you over the edge again.

Once you had taken some time to come down from the moment, Dick pulled back, discarding the condom before laying back on the bed on his side, pulling your body into his.

You turned your head up to look at his face, but were forced to save your thoughts for a moment as he kissed you again, his hand moving to your hair to keep you close to him.

“So was this your way of welcoming me to Bludhaven?” you asked coyly.

“Did it work?” he asked with a grin. “It’s hard to come by good allies around here. The last time I thought I could trust someone here, I got sold out to a four-hundred-year-old drowned hipster.”

You looked dubiously at him, afraid to ask about said drowned hipster.

“Maybe I should take you to meet Guppy sometime,” he hummed thoughtfully. “He wasn’t the one that sold me out, but you don’t often see shark men with five o’clock shadow walking around. He’d probably like your company a lot more than mine during the prison’s visiting hours.”

You felt like you could really understand how Dorothy felt when she had said she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. You had never seen, nor heard of a talking, let alone poorly-shaven shark before, but it seemed that this was the kind of thing that lay ahead of you if you continued your descent into Dick’s world. But as you snuggled into his chest, letting your ear rest against his heartbeat, you found yourself looking forward to what your new life in Bludhaven would bring, even if it seemed like it would be joining Dick in visiting a scruffy shark man in prison.

#xreader #reader insert #nightwing #nightwing x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader

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awesomerextyphoon · 4 years ago

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A Warrior’s Heart | Phase 1: Welcome – 3

A Hero’s Welcome?

Summary: When someone with a connection to Steve’s past dies, he’s reminded of the promise he made to Dr. Erskine and whether or not he’s failed. Can Ife help him see that he hasn’t?

Characters: Steve Rogers, Ifekerenma ‘Ife’, Abraham Erskine (mentioned), Marlene Erskine (mentioned), Nick Fury, Eliza Maza, Azeneth Ramirez

Main Pairing: Stucky x Black!OFC (Ifekerenma ‘Ife’)

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 5,801

Warnings: Depression, Talk of Death, Slightly Cynical Steve, Politics, Smutty Thoughts

A/N: I’m sorry that this so long. I really wanted to try something different with Erskine and the time around CA:TFA. Also, I wanted to explore how Steve would be feeling right after AoU (little bit of a downer, but it will get better). Furthermore, this story will diverge a bit from MCU in terms of Steve’s and Bucky’s abilities. Feedback is welcomed and greatly appreciated. Dividers were by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Thanks to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for the beta!

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<<Previous

Early June 2015

“What do you have to report, Ifekerenma?”

Ife pursed her lips together,”Wanda is doing well with her training. Djamila and Nazaret had some sung her praises during their first session.”

It took a few days to convince the team and Fury to let her friends train Wanda. Luckily Nat had her back and Wanda was able to show the compound how much she improved from what Ife was able to teach her. Unfortunately, Azeneth was unable to make it due to being tied up with a BNA mission and relocating to the NYC division.

“That’s good to hear. Have you made made any progress with the others?”

Ife’s eyes casted down in thought. Vision was a no-go for now. Pietro was warming up to her, but he thought she was still suspicious (wasn’t wrong). She didn’t want to try Rhodey yet (too close to Tony). Nat was..difficult; she’ll try again later.

“I’m going to try Steve next. He seems like a safe bet, even with the serum. Hopefully, he won’t catch before it’s time. I will need Erskine’s folder though.”

Eliza’s lips turned upward in a small smile, “Agreed. I’ll have it sent to you within the hour. Best of luck, Ife.”

And with that, Ife got dressed and headed towards the common room.

Steve leaned back and clasped his hands together behind his head in thought and vexation.

The 21st century must be fucking with him.

Right after Operation ‘Captain Briar Rose’, Steve went to Brooklyn. He could barely find any trace of his old neighborhood. The apartment complex where he and his mother lived was now a ritzy condominium with a Starbucks on the ground level.

All of the places he’d go with Bucky were now soulless veneers filled with empty promises of ‘happiness’ or ‘self-esteem’.

He remembered the time Bucky bailed him out of yet another beating by Arnie and his gang back in 1928. His mother berated him for getting in yet another fight while Bucky’s mom laughed and treated them to ice cream from the local sweets parlor. Bucky’s sisters – Rebecca, Rose, and Annabelle – were making a fuss and bursted out in giggles when Annabelle got ice cream in Bucky’s hair. It was one of the best days that year.

A T-Mobile now stands in its place.

All of his friends and comrades save Bucky and Peggy are dead; he nearly bawled in the middle of briefing when found out that Timothy ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan died and had a cry alone in his quarters afterwards.

Felt shitty about the current state of the country. It seemed as though everything has gotten worse. He found out about the Gulf, Afghanistan, and Iraq Wars. How income and wealth inequality has somehow gotten as bad as, if not worse, than the Gilded Age. Corruption has turned DC and NYC into dog and pony show.

He was furious at all of the politicians and corporations that wanted him to endorse them or their actions. They wanted Captain America’s helmet and shield to mask their heinous acts. They were the same if not worse than Senator Brandt.

Some days Steve wished SHIELD let him stay in the ice. Even worse, there were days he felt that Captain America was for an America that never was.

Nowadays, he felt even more like an anomaly.

It started when he got out of the ice. He felt a lot stronger and faster; only Thor knew the extent of it and he has to hold back a lot when fighting for fear of government asking for more of his blood. Though he suspected Ife and Natasha might be onto him.

He was a lot hungrier than before he went on ice as well. Often time, he would have late night ‘dinners’ (now it's every night), To be honest, he was a bit embarrassed at how much he ate, though the thought of pinning the blame on Ife did cross his mind. It wouldn’t work due to Ife almost never eating with the team and Sam said that he would know if Ife was the culprit. Steve suspected that Ife has been using her connections to restock the food between when he retired to his quarters and before the rest of the team came for breakfast. Also, she kept leaving him fun pop culture facts and media recommendations for the night.

Steve didn’t feel he could go to Dr. Cho since he doubted she had anything to go on in his case.

He did wonder if Ife could help him. She seemed to like helping the team and she was knowledgable about Non-Humans. Wanda’s rapid improvement in her powers and control bolstered his decision.

Sighing, Steve sat up straight in his chair and picked up the letter he received that morning. Marlene Philomena Erskine had passed away and he was invited to her funeral.

It was sad to have yet another link to his past slip from his grasp.

Steve was finishing up another book to fight off his jitters. It was the night before the operation and he needed to have a few moments of respite from the war.

He was so engrossed in what he was reading that he failed to notice Dr. Erskine entering.

Erskine, for his part, was eyeing several books in Rogers’ makeshift bookshelf: They Odyssey, Of Mice and Men, Murder on the Orient Express, Tender is the Night, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Homage to Catalonia, and To Have and have Not.

“What do you think of the book?” Erskine asked as he sat across the startled recruit.

“Just finished. Y’think it wise to get buzzed before a major operation, sir?” Steve noted when he saw the bottle and two shot glasses on the bed.

Erskine chucked, “Calms my nerves a bit. What did you think of the book?”

Steve pressed his lips together for a moment, “It was a good read. The book had a lot of good points for something written eleven years ago.”

“What truths?”

“Well, for one thing, how technology is used to make the populace happy, but not better. The World Government found a way to get people to willingly trade self-expression, self-awareness, and their happiness for cheap happiness and comfort. Makes you wonder if the US was next, you know?”

Erskine was taken aback by his answer. It was much deeper than most of commanding officers gave if they even read the book.

Though that last sentence was interesting.

“What do you mean next?”

“Isn’t that what happened in Germany?”

Erskine sighed, “Yes and no. Most people here think Hitler came out of nowhere, but he didn’t. Not everyone in Germany was for WWI. There was a 100,000 person march in Berlin, but it didn’t matter since the Social Democratic Party failed to rise to the occasion and went along with war effort. Many were scapegoated for Germany failure, Matthias Erzberger for instance.”

“What about the Weimar Republic?”

Once again, Erskine was taken aback by Steve’s knowledge, “Weimar Germany was a great place to be creative, curious, and make new discoveries. I met my wife, Greta, in Berlin during that time. I made a lot of friends, friends I had to leave behind.”

Erskine frowned as his face darkened,”The terrible thing, my friend, was not that Hitler was dangerous, it was that either people didn’t take him as the threat he was or they wanted to use him for their own ends. The cops and judges sympathized with the Nazi Party to get one over the Socialists and Communists. Industrialists wanted to make money off of the Nazis getting into power. Even the German and International newspapers didn’t cover him with the urgency required.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Ja, and it almost happened here, didn’t it?”

Steve nodded in reference to the America First movement and the German American Bund. He still remembers getting the crap beaten out of him by the Silver Shirts when he spoke out against them a few years ago.

“So why did you choose me?”

“I suppose that is the best question.” Erskine admitted while glancing at Steve’s bookshelf, “What do you think of the Odyssey?”

Steve shrugged, “The adventures were fun, but they were just fantasy.”

“They may not be, Mein Freund. How old do you think I am?”

“Uh, mid sixties?”

Erskine laughed, “You’re too kind. I will be 94 this September,” he smiled noting Steve’s shock, “Things are not always as they seem. I come from a long line of ‘healers’ dating back to before Rome. One of them was able to ‘make a man more’. They inspired me to go into this profession.”

“Making super soldiers?”

“Medicine and bio-chemical engineering.”

“Oh”

“Did you know that you will not be first to undergo this?”

“Who was?”

“His name was Konrad Jager. He was a lot like you: small, frail, but had a great deal of courage and compassion. He was willing to fight Nazis in the streets knowing he’d lose. One day in 1930, his parents begged me to save him as the doctors had given up all hope.

I was woking on a serum that would make the body impervious to all diseases rather than wait for the next outbreak to occur. I thought it would propel the medical field.

The trial worked and he was healed. He became much taller and broader in size as a result.”

Erskine pulled out a picture of himself next to a tall, well-built young man.

“That’s Konrad isn’t it?”

“Yes. I was able to help eight more people through the earlier version of the serum. All but one turned out well.”

“What happened to the one?”

“Ah yes, Eren Kant. He was a shy young man before the serum, but then became more like Hodge: a philander, arrogant, and bit of a bully with a temper. He ‘grew too big for his britches’ as one would say and was arrested by the Munich police. He let his arrogance blind him and he escaped in a way that intrigued Der Fuhrer and was taken to Berlin soon after. By this time, rumors had spread of my work and the Nazis were anxious to be the ‘best of the Aryans’. They were able to get my whereabouts from Eren and sent Schmitt to fetch me, but I was already on my way to Switzerland when he reached my home.”

“How did he get you?”

Erskine slightly jerked his head to the side and back, “A year prior to my attempted escape, I met a man in Geneva who warned of the dangers that lied in Berlin. He gave me his card if I needed to escape. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have waited so long before I made the phone call. I was tipped off by an old colleague of Eren entering Nazi custody.

Everything was set. My family and I were to enter Switzerland by crossing Lake Constance. We made it to Meerburg and the lake was in sight when Schmitt and his agents cut us off.

Schmitt believed that there was a power left behind by the gods. He believed himself to be a leader of a new race of men. He wanted me to ‘perfect the serum’, make him stronger than Eren. He had my children, Klaus and Marlene, taken to the outskirts of town as insurance implying that they would be sent to Dachau if I should fail.

I stalled for as long as I could hoping Schmitt would forget about me, but it was not meant to be. A few years after I was taken hostage, Schmitt stormed into my lab and pointed a gun to Greta demanding I give him the serum.”

“Did it make him stronger than Eren?”

“It did, but it had...side effects. The serum was not ready. Schmitt’s skin turned red and his face became so disfigured that Hitler called him the Red Skull. He killed Greta with his bare hands,” Erskine wiped away a few tears, “and ordered Marlene and Klaus to be sent to Dachau while I was banished to the dungeons.

Fortunately, Agent Carter and the SOE were able to save Marlene and myself. Though Klaus sacrificed himself when the agents could only save one of them.”

“Your son is a hero.”

“I only wish I could’ve told him that myself. But, back to your original question. I chose you because, like Konrad, you are a weak man. You see, the serum amplifies everything; good becomes great and awe-inspiring, bad becomes worse and a nightmare. Men who are strong their entire lives often do not value strength and abuses it. However, a weak man who is compassionate and brave will use it to help others. You were chosen because you had the aforementioned virtues and because you use your mind.

The world does not need perfect soldiers, look where that has gotten us. No, what we need right now are good men.”

Erskine poured out two shots and gave a glass to Steve.

Steve raised his glass, “To the little guys.”

The liquor was just about to touch his lips when Erskine snatched the glass from him, “What are you doing? You have an operation tomorrow. No fluids.”

Steve chuckled as Erskine bid him farewell and good luck tomorrow.

Ife found Steve in the Common Room hunched over a chair with a letter in his hands. Emotional echoes of gloom came off in waves as she approached him.

“Whatcha looking at, Steve?”

When Steve didn’t respond, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

Steve finally turned to Ife, “I received an invite to a funeral. It’s for Marlene Philomena Erskine, Dr. Abraham Erskine’s daughter.”

Ife nodded in understanding; he feels that he failed Marlene by not protecting Dr. Abraham Erskine.

But in fact, he didn’t fail her.

She lived quite the life for a human.

Not long after her father’s assassination, Marlene became a badass mechanical engineer and physicist. Her designs and schematics for transportation vehicles and energy storage/distribution gave the colonizer nations a fighting chance during the Wars Against Colonialism.

Though part of it was because the UA was a little cocky at that point. Marlene sure lit a fire under their ass! Ife can still hear her Aunt Eziamaka pouting at the news of one of UA bases nearly falling into their control.

Marlene’s assistance with the war effort didn’t last long as her gratitude towards the people who saved both her and her father wasn’t enough to overlook the Military’s treatment of some her colleagues.

Her life from there was pretty standard. She became a professor at MIT, got married and had a few kids.

BNA took her off the ‘humans of special interest’ list in 1971.

Thinking back on it, Marlene may have had a better life by her father not making it past WWII.

Though Ife thought it would be wise not to mention this to Steve.

“When is the funeral?”

Steve didn’t raise his head, “It’s in a week.”

“In that case, might I accompany you?”

“Yes...and thank you.”

“No Problem! See you later.” Ife wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug and went on her way leaving Steve slightly bewildered.

Steve didn’t know what to make of Ifekerenma.

She was always asked the team how they were feeling at what seemed to be the right moment. Shoot, she even talked to custodial staff that few of ever acknowledge. Compassionate to nearly everyone, especially the child hostages during the last mission.

She’s nerdy to the point of Sam jokingly calling her a weeb (anime lover?) when she walked around in an oversized Cowboy Bebop t-shirt once. Wanda mentioned a ‘digital friend’ in her room and caught her mentioning how slow Stark’s tech was much to the amusement of team at Tony’s expense.

Steve’s certain Nat sent Clint a video of the whole thing.

Also, she was what Sam called a ‘Supreme Chef’. He contently patted his midsection remembering the feast she prepared for the team last night. Her cooking would’ve put some of Stark’s gourmet chefs to shame. She asked the team what they liked and she ended up having to create a dinner rotation. Steve was especially touched when she went to an antique bookstore for a recipe that was close to what his mother would’ve made for him.

Furthermore, she would leave out little homemade treats/ snacks at night. Pietro and Sam would sneak some when they thought no one was looking. She even giggled when he accidentally let out a huge belch after an amazing dinner a couple nights ago saying it’s a sign of thanks on her home planet, Avlenia.

Ife always called him Steve; not ‘Captain’ or ‘Cap’ or even ‘Good ol’Century Virgin’ (damn it, Tony!). She never made light of him ‘taking an ice nap’ or asking him about the 1940s in a demeaning way like some reporters and ‘little upstarts on social media’. Somehow, Ife found out about his love of drawing and got him art supplies with a list of recommended artists

She made him feel more like a person and not a symbol or a far off figure who’s emotionless.

Steve felt warm whenever he was around her in a way not unlike Bucky or Peggy though much more like Bucky. She seemed to sense that he was desperate to truly be seen in way that only Sam and sometimes Nat has.

It also didn’t hurt that she was a total knockout. He had the, ahem, pleasure of seeing her out of her uniform and training outfits a few times. She usually wore clothes that were more on the modest side...except for that one time when she wore a Sailor Moon crop top and high-waisted shorts as a dare from Nat. Half of the compound was staring and Steve spent most of the day in his quarters nursing a hard on he was so aroused.

And yet, Ife was one of the toughest women he knew; even Nat was a little scared of her (at least, he thinks). She might be the strongest person physically and she doesn’t take shit from people who badmouth her or the team; Agent Roussel learned that the hard way.

All in all, Ife was...something else, someone he wanted to get close to.

The day of Marlene’s funeral started out well enough.

Ife spent the early morning making Sam’s request of cinnamon rolls, sausage, omelettes, waffles, and hash browns since he won the raffle of Vision’s turn as he doesn’t eat.

She was handing out everyone’s first servings (didn’t care what happened afterwards) when she felt Steve’s emotional echoes of depression, melancholy, and despair noting how his eyebrows furrowed and how tense his body language was.

She just hoped she could get to him.

Steve was walking to garage hoping his outfit wasn’t too much.

Nat somehow convinced him into wearing a Highbridge Black Custom Suit with an Eastley Dobbey Blue Shirt, a Black Solid Tie, a Navy Blue Pocket Square, and Ink Black Dress Shoes.

He ‘upped the swoon dial’ as Nat put it. Could’ve sworn he heard Sam snickering.

Steve reached the entrance hoping not to keep Ife waiting when he heard clicking of heels behind him.

He turned around to find Ife looking almost unearthly.

She was wearing a black Ankara (?) dress with a cape that was black on the outside and golden on the inside with various blue, silver, and khaki rectangle clusters. Her hair was mostly contained in a wrap with a few strands framing her lovely face. Her full, plump lips were coated in a Light Plum (?) Matte Lipstick and she wore minimal gold eye shadow.

Her outfit did a splendid job of hinting at her voluptuous curves without needlessly flaunting them like the women who throw themselves at him at press tours.

Ife smiled at him and asked which car were they taking.

Steve motioned to one of the Black SUVs and the two of them strapped in for the three hour car ride.

Ife sighed and gazed out the window at the scenery. Neither one of them had said anything in the past twenty minutes. Steve wasn’t a fan of most of the music that’s on the radio despite Sam’s best efforts. Ife had to break out her puppy dog eyes to get him to let them listen to some instrumental music from her favorite movies.

It seemed that they weren’t going to say anything until Steve cleared his throat.

Ife, not wanting to suffer in silence, decided break it, “How did you know Marlene?”

Steve raided his eyebrows for a split second, “I didn’t. I just feel like I should pay my respects, you know? I mean, I should attend the daughter of the man I failed’s funeral.”

The last sentence struck a chord with Ife. Emotional echoes of despair hit her like a tsunami.

Tentatively, Ife continued, “How did you fail Erskine?”

“I-I don’t think I’ve fulfilled my promise to him. The country has changed so much since I was on ice. It’s funny; I thought that Brave New World would only have a one of two aspects come to life, but I didn’t see nearly the whole book being right.”

Ife didn’t argue with the last two points. The US was nothing but a never-ending commercial sometimes. People were too busy being ‘happy’ or trying to get the newest thrill to realize that they were living in a sham of a republic.

Though she was concerned about the first sentence.

“What was the promise you made to Erskine? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Steve turned slightly, “To be true to who I am; a good man, not a perfect soldier. To be more like Konrad.”

Ife nodded musing on his answer. Erskine would want everyone he helped to be a good person considering the dangers of such power.

Though she wondered if she knew Dr Abraham’s full history.

Abraham Erskine came from a long line of Homo Magis who specialized in Alchemy . He turned to science when it was clear that his magical powers would never manifest (being only 1/16 Homo Magi). Erskine started working on what would become the Super Soldier Serum in 1920 after the witnessing the horrors of WWI firsthand as a medic.

He made a breakthrough in 1927 when he found what looked to be an old power cell in the attic of his childhood home. Turns out it was a modified Atlantean battery dating back to the 1600s, but whatever.

Konrad Jager was the first of nine volunteers; most of whom went on to fight in the Spanish Civil War with the International Brigades and be part of the German Resistance’s Special Forces during WWII.

Needless to say, they were recruited into BNA’s European Division.

Only Eren Kant was deemed a failure in the end.

Ife shook her head at the info in Erskine’s folder.

Eren was pompous dumbass who broke himself out jail by bending/breaking the bars of his cell after getting arrested for being a player and bully by the Munich Police in August of 1935. His show of superhuman strength got Erskine’s work onto the Hitler’s radar. BNA had to send a cleaner to ‘handle’ Eren before he could get everyone in even more trouble.

She wondered if Konrad and the others would make an appearance.

“What do mean by not staying true to yourself?”

Steve sighed, “It seemed a lot easier to do so in my time.”

Ife wanted to go further, but she couldn’t. Steve was punishing himself up for something he couldn't control and it was tragic.

She hoped that she could actually help him, not for the mission, but for himself.

They arrived at the venue twenty minutes early. Steve was trying (failing) to fix his tie while Ife was looking as glamorous and poised as can be.

Sensing Steve’s unease, she gave his hand a comforting squeeze, “You’ll do fine,” she whispered as she fixed his tie while not trying inhale his delicious natural scent like a creep (again).

“Let’s go inside.”

Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing when they entered the venue. Though Ife had to hand it to the guests; no one asked Steve for an autograph or a selfie. She noted several BNA officials and a couple of Earth-based Non-Human big wigs in attendance.

Guess Marlene was popular.

“Ife!” Azeneth shouted as she strode over to from a corner and enveloped her in a hug.

“Azeneth, how are you? I didn’t think you would be back from Mexico City so soon.”

“Well, the mission was short and they wanted me in New York to accompany Eliza here. Now, who is this fine gentleman, Ife?” Azeneth queried while Steve started shifting uncomfortably.

“This is Steve Rogers, one of my new teammates and Ca-”

“Captain America. I know, Ife. I was jesting.”

Ife sighed dramatically while rolling her eyes, “Steve, this is Azeneth. She’s one of my best Earth-based friends.”

“Kickass friend.” Azeneth corrected, “How are you liking Ife? She’s not too much trouble.”

“Stop it, ‘Aze!” Ife playfully hit Azeneth’s shoulder, “Feel free to ignore her, Steve.”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think I will, especially after the stunt you pulled on the first day at the compound.”

Azeneth burst out laughing at Ife’s shocked expression and Steve’s sly grin. She probably would’ve kept goin if not for Eliza cutting into their conversation.

“Excuse us, Mr. Rogers. I’ll have to speak with Ife for a moment. My name’s Eliza Maza, by the way.”

Once they were out of Steve’s line of sight (Azeneth was keeping him busy), Eliza activated a noise canceller.

“So did anyone die in the attack on the Magic Council?” Ife asked as she made sure Steve wasn’t looking at them.

“No one was harmed, but several books are missing from the library.”

“Shit! Okay. Well, would Dr. Strange be available to assist Wanda with her training? Wong and Nazaret are at the Sanctum and he said that he knew of some spells that could help.”

“I’ll look into it. I should have an answer in a week”

“Okay.”

“Ife, please give me a call when you get back to the compound.”

Ife eyed Konrad Jager, Gregor Eisenberg, Sonje Decker, and Lukas Denhart making their way to Steve. She hoped they weren’t going to drop an info bomb on him today.

“I will.”

The service was short and sweet as Marlene didn’t want everyone to be bored to tears on her behalf. The crowd got a laugh out that joke.

Afterwards, Marlene granddaughter, Zahara, requested if Steve could stay for a bit. She gave him a beautifully wrapped package.

“My grandmother wanted you to have this. She saw you fighting in the Battle of New York and knew you would know what to do with it.”

“It would be an honor, Miss.”

Ife thought about her earlier conversation with Steve on the say back. She realized what’s happened to Steve was heartbreaking.

Here was a man who gave up everything for a country that only wants him as a cudgel for their heinous deeds. Someone who, if he hadn’t fallen into the ice, would’ve probably been ruined by the same country he swore to protect. They would’ve labeled him as a communist and destroyed his good name for not immediately getting on board with the next war.

To be honest, Ife didn’t think much of Steve before joining the team. She thought he was just the banner boy for colonizers to feel good; he was the reminder of that brief moment when the US was totally the bad guys (totally being the operative word).

But now?

She saw the toll the helmet and shield had on him. Ife doubted he knew that he was going to be alive for awhile judging how neither Konrad or the others aged a day since they received Serum 1.0 and Steve supposedly got one that was at least 3x as powerful.

She wanted to comfort him somehow, but she was lost on what to do.

When she got back to the compound, she gave Steve a hug and went straight to her quarters to call Eliza.

“Eliza. I can’t do this by myself, and if we’re going to pull this off, I’m going to need some serious backup because the Avengers need some serious help.”

Fury was going through some mission reports when he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in.”

Oddly enough, Ife was the one to enter the room and not Maria Hill.

“Good Evening, Fury. I have someone who would like speak with you.”

“Well, give me a name and contact info and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Actually,” Ife reached in her pocket for a disc, “I can do you one better.”

Ife tossed the disc into the air and a moon-door portal formed from it. Out came Eliza, Azeneth, and Angela in her gargoyle form.

Eliza gave Ife a quick nod and turned to Fury, “Good Evening, Nicolas Fury. My name is Eliza Maza and we’re from the Bureau of Non-Human Affairs or BNA. I would advice that you lower your weapon. It won’t do you a lick of good,” Fury lowered his gun,” Good. Put Maria Rambeau on speaker, we need to talk.”

-Somewhere in France-

Maeve was enjoying her brunch while watching the footage of Eliza officially making contact with new SHIELD and SWORD.

“Well, it looks like it’s time to ‘get the band back together’ as the kids would say.” She chirped to the woman across the table.

“That expression pretty much died in the 90s. No ‘kid’ uses that phrase anymore.” Koronis deadpanned.

Maeve scoffed, “Anyone born after 1800 is a ‘child’ to me. This is what I get for trying not to sound like ‘an old hag’ as you put it.”

“Well, is everything on track?”

Koronis, or Carol, closed her eyes for few seconds, “I see nothing standing in our organization’s way. However, we should have the meeting sooner rather than later.”

“Duly noted. Anything else?”

“The new variable, Ifekerenma, will be more useful to our plans than I originally anticipated.”

“Oh, I do love surprises! I mean, I know how it will end, but I still like to be at least a little surprised. I knew it was a good idea to let Klaue be discovered by Ultron in Istanbul!”

Another woman walked up to the pair,”You wanted to see me, Mistress?”

“Yes. Svetlana, call the others. It’s time to put our plan into high gear. Hell’s Moon is upon us.”

Steve was having a shitty birthday.

The press was pestering him about the presidential election. Several outlets have called him a sellout and a coward for not endorsing anyone.

He was figuring out the best way to take a shower and hit the hay in less than 30 minutes when he found a beautifully written note taped to his door.

It said to come to Ife room wearing his best dancing clothes.

Ten minutes later, Steve knocked on her door and it instantly opened to reveal a modest dancing hall not unlike the ones he went to with Bucky before the war.

He was so lost in thoughts admiring the place that he failed to notice Ife hovering a few feet from him.

“Happy Birthday, Steve! How do you like it?”

Steve turned to see Ife in a knee-length golden yellow African Wax Print Ankara dress with cold shoulders, ruffled sleeves, and a v-neckline. He didn’t miss the modest view of her cleavage or how her legs looked oh, so smooth in the dress.

Ife, for her part, was super nervous about this. Nat said that people went to dance halls all the time in the late 1930s and 1940s and it took her five days to get the architecture, the music, and the lighting just right.

She hoped that Steve wouldn’t be angry with her.

Steve looked incredibly handsome in his simple dress shirt and slacks. His powerful shoulders, thick biceps, trim waist, and beefy thighs were accentuated by the lighting which made him look like he was glowing.

Ife would’ve drooled if she knew that he didn’t like it when most women would throw themselves at him.

“It’s amazing. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about the dress. I couldn-”

Steve raised a hand to stop her from going off on a tangent,”You look beautiful.”

Ife felt a flurry of warmth in her core at the compliment.

“So, what would like to do?”

Before Steve could answer, Duke Ellington’s Don’t Mean a Thing starting playing.

Steve stretched out his hand, “Would you like to dance?”

Ife took his had and they glided onto the dance floor.

“Where did you learn to dance?”

“Bucky’s mom made us learn when Bucky started getting attention from the girls at school. She thought it best that we knew how to treat them to a good time.”

“I see,” Ife giggled, “Then she was wise to make take the lessons. Though I’m more familiar with the jitterbug.”

Steve chuckled as they resumed swinging. He hummed a bit as they danced to Ella Fitzgerald, Caro Emerald, Jo Stafford, Billie Holiday, and Gene Krupa.

Ife was impressed with Steve’s dancing skills. What were those women thinking passing him up like that?!

After a couple more rounds of dancing, the music shifted to something more modern but not (it was Howl’s Moving Castle’s Main Theme) , the colors on the walls and ceiling brightened, and several chandeliers formed on the ceiling.

Steve gave Ife a slightly confused look and asked her if she would like to try a waltz this time.

The song lasted a little more than five minutes. Steve was somehow able to lead their movements in sync with the song.

Ife felt her body was aflame with gentle yet commanding touches Steve was giving her. He even lifted her a few times making her feel as though she was flying with how gently he held her.

They were absorbed in their own world they either failed to notice or ignored Nat and Wanda entering Ife room to see if they could have another spa day. Nat even got a few pictures of the two dancing.

Steve gave Ife one last life during the climax and pulled her in when the music came to a close. They were about to come in for a kiss when Ife pressed her lips together and back away.

“We should probably retire for evening. Goodnight, Steve.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but left Ife’s room with a simple goodnight with Nat and Wanda in tow.

Ife frowned. She knew Steve wasn’t in the best place for a relationship and her conscience wouldn’t let her take advantage of that.

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