Birds, Bats, and Tights

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Get well soon Uncle Dick!!!  Here’s some friends for you to help you feel better!!  Also the jellybeans are like pills you can take to heal!  Love you lots!
— Lian

Aww, thank you, Lian!  They’ll keep me good company and watch over me while I sleep.  The jellybeans are delicious; I think they’re working already!!
Ooh, and a word-find!  That’s good, because it’ll help me stay sharp.  Gotta stay quick to be a good detective.
Love you lots, Lian!!!

Get well soon Uncle Dick!!!  Here’s some friends for you to help you feel better!!  Also the jellybeans are like pills you can take to heal!  Love you lots!

— Lian

Aww, thank you, Lian!  They’ll keep me good company and watch over me while I sleep.  The jellybeans are delicious; I think they’re working already!!

Ooh, and a word-find!  That’s good, because it’ll help me stay sharp.  Gotta stay quick to be a good detective.

Love you lots, Lian!!!

oodelollie:

looktothenightstar replied to your photo:
…a little cold there, huh?
flylikearobin replied to your photo
That’s an awfully big feather ya got there, Ollie.

What is this, ‘She Said He Said’ with the Duelling Graysons??

We’re starting our Medbay Comedy Duo Act.  You should come check us out.  We’re a riot.

Where Once Was Rage

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The Rage of a Beast

When Dick woke up, he found himself chained to a wall in what was either an abandoned warehouse basement or one hell of a rundown sex dungeon.  Either way, he was getting real sick of being knocked out only to wake up somewhere else.  His side didn’t hurt so much anymore, though, so that had to be a point in his favor.  He was just starting to test the give of the cuffs when Peterson walked in with a large, burly goon.

Peterson laughed when Dick turned his head away.  ”Trying to hide your identity?  You really think that’s gonna work, Grayson?”  Dick glared at him.  ”I’ve got a present for you.  I want to see if you’re worthy.”

"Glad to hear you sound all right after I broke your face," Dick said.  "It’d be a shame if you couldn’t monologue to me.  I like a good comedy."

Peterson smirked and sprayed Dick in the face.  Dick flailed, trying to get away from its burn.  ”I’ve been lookin’ into you a lot more, Grayson.  You’re pretty interesting.  Circus brat taken up to the high life.  Took to that pretty well from the tabloid photos I’ve seen.  It makes me wonder why you became a cop.  ’Haven standards really that low?”

Dick glared at him, a dull red filtering around the edges of his vision.

"Maybe you just wanted a new thrill.  Maybe being a hero wasn’t enough for you."  Peterson looked him over so slowly it would have felt salacious if not for the clear disgust on his face.  "What do you get up to in that getup?  Running around with Catwoman, I could think of a few things.  Probably have a lot of luck with the ladies, especially around Blüdhaven.  They probably jump you first chance they get."

Tarantula flashed in Dick’s mind and he jolted, straining at the chains holding him.

"Do they all know who you are?  You seem pretty easy, the kind that gives it away.  All your secrets."

Dick strained against the cuffs.  He could probably break his thumb and slip one hand free, but he wasn’t thinking clear enough to do it safely.  All he wanted was to get at Peterson’s throat.

"Nightwing, this is Catwoman.  Are you there?"

All three of them froze, staring at the comm Peterson pulled out.  ”Well….  Looks like someone’s finally decided they want you back.  I should take this.”  He nodded to the henchman next to him.  ”Test him.”  He sprayed Dick in the face once more and walked away toward the front of the basement.

[warning: transphobic, mysoginistic, and racial slurs and graphic violence below]

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Apr 8

[Sorry for lack of plot stuff.  Been fighting off fatigue and a migraine of death all day.  Lots of stuff will be up tomorrow!]

Apr 6

[TEXT] off.// no. \deactivate tracer/

bowsbulletsbruises:

flylikearobin:

bowsbulletsbruises:

Roy reads the text, reads it again, and then, he reads it again.

[TEXT] Who is this??

Peterson is surprised when a message comes through in reply as if he’d sent one out.  He probably had, idiot.  What the hell kind of weird phone was this thing?  Still, whoever it was, if they didn’t get a reply, they were bound to get suspicious, and since this wasn’t a police issued thing, “they” were probably more capes.

[TEXT]  its dick am fine. sry

Roy reads the message, twice, and then tosses the communicator between his hands before shooting off:

[TEXT] No worries, man

[TEXT] are you down for bringing beer for the GoT premiere tonight

Peterson isn’t around when Roy’s reply comes through, but Dick can hear him talking in the distance.  His side hasn’t stopped bleeding since it broke open and he’s starting to feel the blood loss.  The comm buzzes on Peterson’s chair where he left it; Peterson doesn’t seem to hear it.  Dick drags himself over to the chair, grabbing the comm quickly before he falls back to the floor.

[TEXT]  in warehouse

[TEXT]  don’t kno where

[TEXT]  roy help

That’s all he gets out before he hears Peterson yell something at him and the comm is wrenched from his hands.  He doesn’t have the strength to fight back— must’ve lost more blood than I thought— but he did enough for now.

It had to be enough.

Apr 5

[TEXT] dnt wry im fine

heirtotheknight:

[text] Where are you? 

[TEXT] hm. cum c.

Five minutes later, Peterson rethinks his choice and sends a new message.

[TEXT]  come find him.

Apr 5

Surprise, Surprise

Dick’s apartment looks fine from the outside with the exception of the forced lock.  Inside, the place is a mess.  Everything is tossed around and overturned and smashed.  It looks like a cross between a struggle and a search.

Small trails of blood line the walls and floor of Dick’s apartment, leading to the bedroom.  A dark pool of drying blood stains the bed.  There’s a faint trail of blood leading to the secret door that connects Dick’s apartment with Dr. Fledermaus’.

That apartment looks the same as Dick’s, wrecked and torn apart.  On a more thorough search, it’s clear that some of Dick’s weapons are missing, along with his bike.  A smashed comm lies in the doorway to the hidden garage elevator.

Apr 5

[TEXT] off.// no. \deactivate tracer/

bowsbulletsbruises:

Roy reads the text, reads it again, and then, he reads it again.

[TEXT] Who is this??

Peterson is surprised when a message comes through in reply as if he’d sent one out.  He probably had, idiot.  What the hell kind of weird phone was this thing?  Still, whoever it was, if they didn’t get a reply, they were bound to get suspicious, and since this wasn’t a police issued thing, “they” were probably more capes.

[TEXT]  its dick am fine. sry

Apr 5

Slow Build to Rage

The next time Dick woke up, his head was clearer, even if he was still a bit woozy.  The rest of him still hurt like nothing else, but that’s what happens when you get blown up.  He was on the floor this time, someplace hard and too solid, like concrete.  He wriggled, trying to stretch and get movement back in his limbs when his side erupted in pain.  ”Gah!”  His eyes flew open in shock.

"You’re gonna rip your stitches you do that," Peterson said, moving into Dick’s view.  "I thought I’d leave a gift for anyone who came looking for you.  Some blood splattered around the apartment, a few things broken; it paints a pretty good picture."

Dick curled in on his side, as if he could undo the damage he’d done by pushing his side back together.

"It’s not that deep, if you were wondering.  Just enough to bleed a lot."

He sure as hell wasn’t fooling about that.  His suit was stained with blood, but was undamaged, meaning Peterson had pulled it off, sliced him, let him bleed out, and— unless he really wasn’t lying about the stitches, which Dick didn’t really believe from feel— let the suit’s compression seal the wound.  Well, that explained a lot of the light-headedness.

"Y’know," Peterson began, crouching down next to Dick, "I was gonna frame you for your own murder.  Well, first I was gonna frame you for the murder of that old doctor next to your place, but there wasn’t enough sign of him around.  So I went for the next best thing:  a vigilante found dead in a cop’s apartment.  Would’ve been a hell of a time gettin’ out of that, wouldn’t it?"

Dick tensed slowly, trying to be as subtle as he could.  Everything about Peterson screamed to get punched in the face, from his arrogance— seriously, was he monologuing?— to his stupidly powerful cologne (and you’d even warned Selina about that, hadn’t you?  Good job, Grayson).  Thankfully, Dick wasn’t bound this time and Peterson was well within range.  What an idiot.

"But you’re actually the same person.  Who knew?"  He grabbed Dick by the hair and pulled him up.  "Seriously, who knows?  Your sister?  Your partner?  The Captain?"

Dick jammed the heel of his hand into Peterson’s nose, wickedly satisfied at the crunch it made.  Peterson reeled back, one hand flying up to protect his face.  Dick lunged at him, hands reaching for his throat— throttle him, strangle him, snap his neck— but Peterson kicked out, his foot catching Dick’s side hard.  With a grunt, Dick toppled over, curling in protectively again.  From the new wetness on his suit, he was definitely bleeding.

Peterson reached over and sprayed Dick with that tube again, but this time Dick was focused enough to know what it was.  It was that cologne chemical, concentrated enough to burn in his eyes and nose and throat, making him gasp even as he tried to not breathe.  His head swam again, his vision going red as Peterson stood up, one hand still on his nose.

"Son of a bitch!

Peterson kicked Dick in the head, and the last thing Dick thought before he hit the concrete floor was how much he was gonna kill the next person who hit him.

Apr 4

Home, Sweet Home

Smoke and heat and his head was swimming and his back hurt and his lungs were burning and then there was just…

nothing.

Nothing until he found himself breathing familiar smells and hearing familiar sounds.  He cracked open his eyes, lids straining to pull apart from a nearly painful glue of salt and tears and ash.  He was in bed.  In a bed.  In his bed.

Selina.

She must’ve found him and dragged him home.  That would explain why his mask was off.  She probably wanted to make sure it didn’t melt onto his face.

Thanks, Selina.

Dick closed his eyes, sinking back into the warmth of unconsciousness.

"Fuck!"

That was a deep voice.  Not Selina’s.  A man’s voice.

He wasn’t safe here.

Dick groaned, urging his limbs to move.  If he really was home in his apartment— and judging from the things his eyes finally focused on, he was— without his mask….  None of them were safe.

A figure moved into the doorway, shadowed by the light behind him.  ”Wondering when you’d wake up,” it said.

Peterson.

Dick thrashed, his movements still terribly sluggish and… restrained.  He was tied down.

Peterson moved closer.  ”Been trying to get this damn thing to work,” he said, holding up some small thing.  ”I smashed the other one.  People kept talking over it.  I figured they’d start to use it to trace you or something if you didn’t answer.”

His comms.  Dammit!

Dick grunted, trying to get his voice to work if nothing else.  His head was still swimming and he couldn’t figure out why.

Peterson held up something else, something thin and cyllindrical, like mouth spray, or pepper spray, or….

"Go back to sleep, Dick," he said.  "We’ve got some movin’ to do."

A spray of gas hit his face strong enough to make Dick gasp and inhale the horrible odor.  He shook his head to try and clear it, seeing Peterson’s fist coming down too late.

Then it was back to nothing.

oodelollie replied to your photo:[Dick’s fashion choices now extend to putting his…

So this is … /your/ new costume??

Well, it’s an idea…  I’m still working on it.  Maybe it’ll be Dickie Grayson’s new outfit!

The Smell of Death Surrounds You (Part 3)

theblondebat:

felinesfury:

bowsbulletsbruises:

"Hey.. Hey!" He made his way over to Catwoman and Batgirl, words stumbling as he jumped over flaming pieces of brick—flaming brick?—to the two women. He looked at Catwoman, his eyes narrowing behind his Arsenal mask. “Where’s Nightwing?”

Wasn’t that the $64 question.  Selina reached out, using his shoulder for support to move away from her hiding place.  Strong shoulders, like Ollie’s, good archer.  If she was the swooning type, he’d come in very handy.

She pointed over to the far corner where most of the flames were.  ”Last I knew, he was there.  I don’t know where the blast might’ve thrown him.  I saw a body around there.”  She had a suspicion it wasn’t Nightwing from the shape she’d seen through the smoke, but she couldn’t be sure.  The heroes could check it out.  ”There were two others in there with him when it blew.”

Batgirl pulled the Compact over on the ash and ember covered floor and hopped out, waving at Arsenal and Catwoman through the smoke. “I suppose we could squeeze you in, but just this once,” she teased lightly, regarding Catwoman. Batgirl reached into her belt and brought out a mouthpiece to filter the smoke, not unlike a piece of scuba gear, and held one up to each of her friends’ mouths for them to take. “If there’s anything to find in here, we’d better search quick. I don’t like our chances if the fire keeps climbing before the fire brigade gets here.” Her eyes darted to the walls, flames beginning to lick at support beams and other important things. 

"Here, take my keys," she said to Arsenal, pressing the key ring into his hand, a scratched up piece of cheap purple plastic which read TALK BATTY TO ME in block letters. Batgirl gave him a reassuring smile, knowing he was definitely more anxious to be away from the flames than she was. "Go ahead load Miss Kitty up and I’ll meet you guys outside in five minutes. Be careful, okay?" She gave Roy’s arm a squeeze and left Catwoman in his arms, Batgirl sprinting off into the marginally-less-on-fire corner of the room Catwoman had indicated.

The set-like walls of the office in the corner lay broken and burning around the most charred area of the warehouse.  Near the wall is the body of the smiling man, clearly already dead.  If the explosion and subsequent flames hadn’t killed him, the chemicals from the burning plywood surely did.  The oak desk where the bomb had been attached took most of the blast, shattering and shooting shrapnel when it exploded.  All of the walls have pieces of desk embedded in them except for the back wall, as if it had been out of the way of the blast before it happened.

Just beyond the short wall, between it and a back exit to the warehouse, lay two eskrima sticks and two masks.  There is no other sign of Dick or Peterson.

[Dick’s fashion choices now extend to putting his face on Polaroid dresses.]
New costume idea, y/y?
THE HOT NEW LOOK!!

[Dick’s fashion choices now extend to putting his face on Polaroid dresses.]

New costume idea, y/y?

THE HOT NEW LOOK!!

The Smell of Death Surrounds You (Part 1)

Blüdhaven City Dock.  WH 6.  One hour.

He received Selina’s text at 10:59 pm.  The meeting would be taking place at the witching hour.  Pretty dramatic by Blüdhaven terms, but standard fare for Gotham.  Since the deal was coming out of Gotham, it certainly made sense.  Dick repacked his gear and made his way towards the docks, hoping he’d have some time to work out some sort of plan with his new pseudo-partner.  With any luck, this would end with him only taking in the smugglers themselves.

At 11:52, Dick was crouched on the roof of the warehouse, looking out for any familiar shadows with whips.  He wondered for a moment if she would be in costume, or if Selina Kyle would raise less suspicion, but then he wasn’t exactly sure how she knew this set.  Like all of Gotham, she played her hand as close to her chest as possible.

Five minutes later, someone landed on the roof behind him.  ”I was wondering how long you’d take.  Too many muggings on your way here?” Selina asked, the usual amusement in her words blurred by a strange tightness in her voice.

"Traffic’s terrible this time of night," he said, standing to greet her.  He nodded at the large bag in her hand.  "You ready to really tell me what’s going on here?"

She leaned into one hip and pulled out a file, tossing it to him.  ”Everything my sources have found about the ring and the items stolen.”

Dick flipped through it, glancing between the file and Selina’s bag.  ”And the rest?”

She smirked.  ”The item I was paid to deliver.”

He closed the file and sighed, a small smile slipping into his exasperated look.  ”So you were hired.  I should’ve known.”

"Yes, you should," she said.  "It’s a cat.  I like all things feline.  It needed to be removed.  Who else were they going to call?  The Riddler?"

Dick moved closer, trying to peek into the bag.  ”What’s so special about this cat anyway?  Why bother putting it up for viewing if it’s just going to be stolen?  Art theft at a Gotham museum always draws attention.”

Selina smiled and moved away, slowly circling with him.  ”But nothing has been stolen.  You’ll find the statue sitting exactly where it should be, no harm done.”

"That still doesn’t answer my question, you know.  What’s so special about it?"

She stopped suddenly.  ”Do you remember that cologne we talked about at the museum?  The horrible thing that makes your hair stand on end?”

Dick stopped too, and nodded.  ”You’d smelled it before.”

"As had you."

Dick frowned when she didn’t continue.  ”And?”

She held up the bag.  ”It’s the cat.”  As if that explained everything, she turned to leap to the ground.

"Catwoman!"

Selina paused at the edge of the roof and looked back at him.  ”What?”

Dick held up his hand until she turned around, then tossed her a small device.  ”It’s a League comm.  Just in case something goes down, this’ll contact anyone we might need.  I want you to have one for this.  Just hit the center button and talk.”

She looked at him for a long moment, suspicion clear in her eyes as she tried to read his expression.  ”You’re worried.”

Dick stepped forward.  ”Whatever that cologne stuff is, the first time I was around it for a while, I shattered a guy’s arm and knee.  The last time I smelled it, a guy was asking about my relationship with you and I got so mad, I almost picked a fight and blew my ID.  The way you looked when you mentioned it at the museum makes me think it did something to you, too.”  He glanced down at the bag.  ”If that’s what it does to the ones who just smell it, what might it do to the ones wearing it?”

Selina pursed her lips and tucked the comm away in her suit.  ”If all goes right, you’ll be able to find out exactly what it does.  For now, let’s just get this over with.  Skylight’s over there.  I’m sure I’ll see you in it.”  She shot him a quick smile and leapt off the roof to make her entrance.