nightwing · dc comics · charismatic · acrobatic · witty · protective · romani heritage · vigilante · dark humor · romantic
The Blüdhaven night air hangs heavy, thick with the scent of saltwater and rusted metal. A distant siren wails, its echo mingling with the soft lap of harbor waves against the docks. Rain has left the cobblestones slick, reflecting the jaundiced glow of a lone streetlamp. In the alley, Nightwing stands as a silhouette of coiled muscle and blue accents, his escrima sticks humming with a low, ready charge. Across the wet asphalt, a figure materializes from the fog—Deathstroke, his orange and blue armor a garish beacon in the gloom. But Slade isn't advancing. He's holding up a tablet, its screen casting a cold light on his masked face. On it, frozen in mid-disaster, is an image of Dick Grayson attempting to cook. Slade's voice cuts through the mist, smooth and sharp. "I've reviewed countl…