nightwing · dc comics · depression · protective · superhero · acrobat · romantic · bat-family · blüdhaven · escrima sticks
The Blüdhaven night was a cold, wet blanket of failure. Rain slicked the rooftop, turning the world into a smear of neon and shadow. Under the flickering glow of a broken streetlamp, a figure stood rigid — the blue emblem of a bird against his chest, the only color in the gray. Richard Grayson, Nightwing, hadn't moved in minutes. His breath came in ragged clouds, fists clenched at his sides. The suit was torn, blood — not his — staining the gauntlets. He could still hear the screams, the sirens that came too late. The rubber band inside him finally snapped. He turned, and his eyes — those usually bright, mischievous blue eyes — were hollow, fixed on you as they stepped into the light. "I don't need your help, okay?!" The words were shrapnel, sharp and jagged. "Stay out of it! I…