Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson was tired. Tired of the expectations, the endless smiles, and the weight of being everyone’s golden boy. To the civilians of Gotham, he was the bright spot in the shadow of the Bat. To his friends, he was the dependable optimist, the one who always found the light in the darkest of nights. But behind closed doors, away from the eyes of those who adored him, Dick often wondered how much longer he could keep up the charade.

It wasn’t that he hated the roles he played. Nightwing, the acrobatic hero who soared above Blüdhaven’s streets. Renegade, the ruthless apprentice who had danced on the edge of villainy. Agent 37, the master spy who could become anyone. These personas were all pieces of him, facets of a larger whole. But the truth was, they were also masks—and sometimes, he felt like there was no room left for the man beneath them.

The charm, the wit, the relentless kindness—they weren’t just habits. They were armor. Layers he wore to protect himself and everyone else from the storm that brewed inside. And yet, even with all his masks, there were nights when he felt the cracks forming. Nights when the pressure of being everything to everyone threatened to pull him apart.

It was on one of those nights, standing alone in a darkened room, that he realized the truth: the kind, smiling Dick Grayson was just another role. And if he didn’t find a way to balance the scales, he’d lose himself entirely.

That was when he emerged.

The persona had no name, no emblem to mark it. It wasn’t a hero or a villain. It was a part of him—the part that didn’t care about saving the day or making people laugh. The part that saw the world for what it was: a game, with players and pieces, and no room for sentimentality. This new persona became his release, his way of maintaining control in a life where everyone thought they knew him.

The best part? No one suspected a thing. To them, he was still Dick Grayson, Nightwing, the man they trusted implicitly. And as long as they believed that, he could keep the darker part of himself hidden.

Because the truth was simple: he wasn’t sick of being kind. He was sick of being only kind.

Nightwing’s perspective

The cold Gotham air bit at his exposed skin as Dick Grayson perched on the ledge of a decrepit gargoyle. Below, the city churned with its usual chaos—sirens, screams, and the hum of life that never quite slept. A thin smirk tugged at his lips. Tonight was already going to plan.

"You’re quiet tonight," Barbara’s voice crackled through his comms, smooth but laced with curiosity.

“Just focused, Babs,” he replied, his tone perfectly balanced between casual and sincere. He could practically hear her roll her eyes through the line.

“Focused? You haven’t even made a snarky comment about me doing all the heavy lifting in the Clocktower.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it."

She chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar. It was easy to keep up the charm when it came to Barbara. Easy to let her think he was just the same old Dick Grayson—a little reckless, a lot dependable, and always the optimist. That was the thing about masks. Once you wore one long enough, even the people closest to you stopped questioning what was underneath.

"Be careful tonight," she added. "Word on the street is Slade’s been sniffing around Gotham again."

“Slade and I have unfinished business,” Dick said lightly, leaping off the ledge and somersaulting to a lower rooftop. His heart quickened, not out of fear but anticipation.

Slade. Just the name sent a thrill through him. The man was an enigma, a force, a challenge—and tonight, a pawn.

Slade’s perspective

The warehouse was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon seeping through shattered windows. Slade Wilson’s footsteps echoed as he stepped inside, his every movement calculated. He’d come to Gotham expecting the usual game of cat and mouse with the Bat or his little birds. But this? This felt different.

"You’re late," came a voice, smooth as silk and just as dangerous. Nightwing emerged from the shadows, his blue emblem catching the faint light.

Slade raised an eyebrow beneath his mask. "You’ve never been one for punctuality either, kid. What’s this about?"

Nightwing stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "You and I both know Gotham’s just a stage. And you’re a hell of a performer, Slade. I’ve got a proposition."

Slade’s grip on his sword tightened ever so slightly. “What kind of proposition?”

Nightwing tilted his head, his smirk just shy of mocking. “One where you win, I win, and they—” he gestured vaguely toward the city outside, “…never see it coming.”

Barbara’s perspective

The monitors in the Clocktower bathed Barbara in a soft blue glow. She’d been watching Dick’s movements through Gotham, the GPS in his suit tracking his every step. Something about his behavior tonight felt…off. He wasn’t cracking jokes like he usually did, wasn’t checking in as often.

“Dick, you’ve been quiet,” she said again through the comms, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

Static. Then his voice, calm and steady. “Still here, Babs. Just running into an old friend."

“Who?” she pressed, her stomach knotting with unease.

“Just Slade. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Her hands stilled on the keyboard. Slade. She hated how casually he said the name, like it didn’t carry a weight that could crush entire lives. “Dick, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Stupid? Me?” His laugh was light, disarming. “Come on, Babs. Have a little faith.”

Faith. She had plenty of it in him. But tonight, for the first time, she felt a flicker of doubt.

Nightwing’s perspective

As Slade left the warehouse, Nightwing leaned against a crate, arms crossed and expression unreadable. The first piece of the puzzle was in place. The plan was already unfolding, perfectly orchestrated, every move calculated.

He tapped his comm. "You’re up, Red."

Jason’s voice came through, gruff but eager. "About damn time."

Dick allowed himself a small smile. The beauty of it all was that none of them would ever suspect the truth. To them, he was still their dependable leader, their golden boy. And as long as they believed that, he could keep pulling the strings.

Chapter Text

Control was the key to everything. Dick Grayson had learned that the hard way. He had spent his entire life caught between chaos and order, balancing on a razor's edge. First as the ward of the Dark Knight, then as the leader of the Titans, and later as a lone vigilante in Blüdhaven. Every decision he made had to be calculated, deliberate, a step in a larger dance that only he could see.

But tonight, control was more than a tool. It was a weapon.

Nightwing’s perspective

The streets of Blüdhaven were quieter than usual, a strange calm settling over the city. Dick moved through the shadows with practiced ease, every step silent, every motion precise. He was on his way to meet Jason, but his mind was already running a hundred scenarios. Each one a contingency, a thread in the web he was weaving.

Jason Todd wasn’t the easiest ally to work with, but that was precisely why Dick had chosen him. Red Hood’s unpredictability made him both a valuable asset and a dangerous liability. And tonight, Dick needed both.

As he approached the rooftop rendezvous point, Jason’s voice reached him before his figure did.

“Took you long enough,” Jason drawled, stepping out of the shadows. His red helmet caught the faint glow of the city lights. “Thought you’d bailed on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dick replied, his tone light. “Besides, you’re too much fun to mess with.”

Jason snorted, removing his helmet and tucking it under his arm. His sharp blue eyes studied Dick carefully. “So, what’s the deal? You don’t just call me up for small talk.”

Dick stepped closer, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense. “I need you to stir the pot."

Jason raised an eyebrow. “What kind of pot? And who’s getting burned?”

“A big one. And nobody important,” Dick said smoothly. “I need the League’s attention elsewhere for a while. Just long enough to tie up some loose ends.”

Jason’s grin was sharp and humorless. “You want me to piss off the League? You really know how to sweet-talk a guy.”

“It’s what I do best,” Dick replied with a smirk. “And besides, it’s not like they’re your biggest fans anyway. What’s one more reason for them to look your way?”

Jason let out a low laugh. “You’re a piece of work, Grayson. Fine. But you owe me for this.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dick said, already turning to leave. “Just make sure it’s loud enough for everyone to notice.”

Barbara’s perspective

Back in the Clocktower, Barbara’s fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up data feeds from across the city. Something about tonight felt off, and she wasn’t about to let it go unnoticed.

“Oracle to Nightwing,” she said into the comm, her voice steady. “What’s your status?”

Static. Then, after a moment, Dick’s voice came through. “All good on my end, Babs. Just taking care of a little side business.”

“Side business?” she echoed, suspicion creeping into her tone. “Want to be a little more specific?”

“Nothing major,” he replied easily. “Just keeping an eye on a potential threat.”

Barbara frowned, her fingers pausing mid-keystroke. She’d known Dick long enough to pick up on the subtle shifts in his tone, the tiny tells he couldn’t quite hide. And right now, he was hiding something.

“Dick, if something’s going on, you need to tell me,” she pressed. “We’re a team.”

“And I’m doing my part,” he said, his tone still light but with an edge of finality. “Trust me, Babs.”

The line went quiet, and Barbara leaned back in her chair, her unease growing. Something wasn’t adding up, and she wasn’t about to let it slide.

Nightwing’s perspective

Dick’s comm went silent as he disconnected, his expression unreadable. He hated keeping Barbara in the dark, but it was necessary. The plan required precision, and for now, that meant keeping her—and everyone else—at arm’s length.

As he leapt from the rooftop, his mind was already calculating the next move. Jason would create the distraction he needed, and the League would be too preoccupied to notice the real game being played. Everything was falling into place.

Control. That was the key. And tonight, he was holding all the pieces.

Chapter Text

Every play required a stage, every stage an audience. And in the grand theater of Dick Grayson’s life, every person—hero, villain, or civilian—was a piece to be moved, a role to be played. Tonight, the curtains were rising on his next act, and the spotlight was shining on the Justice League.

Justice League Headquarters - Superman’s Perspective

Clark Kent stood at the head of the conference table, his arms crossed over his chest. Around him, the Justice League’s finest were gathered, their expressions varying from curious to concerned.

“We’ve been getting reports of unusual activity across Gotham and Blüdhaven,” Clark began, his voice steady. “Coordinated attacks, seemingly random targets, but it’s spreading our resources thin.”

Diana leaned forward, her brows furrowing. “Do we have any leads?”

Clark glanced at the holographic display hovering over the table, showing maps marked with incidents. “Nothing solid yet. Batman’s investigating on his end, but—”

“It’s a distraction,” Arthur Curry interrupted, his tone gruff. “Whoever’s behind this wants us looking the other way.”

Bruce Wayne’s voice cut through the room, calm and calculated. “Agreed. Which means we need to find out what they’re really after.”

Clark nodded, his gaze shifting to the empty chair where Dick usually sat. “Where’s Nightwing? He’s been quiet lately.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes. “He’s handling Blüdhaven. I’ll check in with him.”

Nightwing’s Perspective

Dick listened to the meeting through a secure line, a faint smile playing on his lips. He’d anticipated this response, every word falling into place like clockwork. The League was on edge, their focus exactly where he needed it.

“Oracle,” he said into his comm, his tone smooth. “Anything new on your end?”

Barbara’s voice came through, tinged with frustration. “Just the usual chaos. Gotham’s heating up, and Blüdhaven’s not far behind. What about you?”

“Keeping things under control,” he replied. “Let me know if you need backup.”

Disconnecting the line, Dick turned his attention back to his surroundings. The warehouse was dimly lit, its walls lined with monitors displaying live feeds from across the city. His safe house, his command center, the heart of his operation.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the screens. Jason’s distraction was unfolding beautifully, the League chasing ghosts while the real game played out in the shadows. And at the center of it all was Dick Grayson, pulling the strings with practiced precision.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson was many things: a hero, a leader, a brother, a friend. But beneath every mask, every carefully curated role, lay the truth he kept hidden from the world. He wasn’t just balancing these personas—he was using them, shaping them to serve his purpose. And tonight, the weight of the game was heavier than ever.

Titans Tower - Koriand’r’s Perspective

The scent of freshly brewed tea filled the common room of Titans Tower as Koriand’r set down a tray of mugs on the coffee table. The team had gathered for their weekly debrief, but something was different tonight.

“Where’s Dick?” Gar asked, flopping onto the couch and reaching for a mug.

“He said he’d join us later,” Kory replied, her tone carefully neutral.

Raven, perched in the corner with her book, raised an eyebrow. “Typical.”

Kory couldn’t help but feel the tension that had been building in the team lately. Dick’s absences had grown more frequent, his explanations more vague. She knew he carried a heavy burden, but something about the way he had been acting lately made her uneasy.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Gar asked, looking between Kory and Raven.

“He’s Nightwing,” Kory said, her voice firm but tinged with worry. “He always finds a way.”

But as the meeting wore on, Kory couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slipping through her fingers.

Blüdhaven - Nightwing’s Perspective

Dick moved like a shadow through the dimly lit alleyways of Blüdhaven, his mind a whirlwind of calculations. His latest move was in play—a subtle nudge here, a calculated risk there. But even as he kept the pieces moving, he could feel the toll it was taking.

The problem wasn’t the danger or the constant deception. It was the strain of maintaining the mask.

Pausing atop a rooftop, he glanced down at the city below. To the people of Blüdhaven, he was a hero, a symbol of hope. To the Titans, he was their steadfast leader. To the League, he was a trusted ally.

But to himself? He was a man barely holding it all together.

“Grayson,” came Jason’s voice over the comm. “Your little distraction worked. The League’s scrambling to clean up the mess.”

“Good,” Dick replied, his voice cool. “What about the package?”

“It’s in position,” Jason said, a smirk audible in his tone. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that?”

Dick smiled faintly. “Always.”

Wayne Manor - Alfred’s Perspective

Alfred Pennyworth had known Dick Grayson since he was a boy, a bright light in the dark halls of Wayne Manor. But as he watched the young man now, seated at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, Alfred couldn’t help but notice the change.

“You’ve been keeping odd hours, Master Dick,” Alfred said, his tone gentle but probing.

Dick looked up from his mug, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he smiled. “Comes with the job.”

Alfred nodded, but his sharp eyes didn’t miss the shadows beneath Dick’s charm. “Even so, one mustn’t forget to rest. Even the brightest flames can burn out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dick replied, his tone light. But as he left the kitchen, Alfred’s words lingered in his mind, a quiet reminder of the line he was walking.

Justice League - Diana’s Perspective

Wonder Woman watched Batman closely as he ended the call with Nightwing.

“Something’s off,” she said, crossing her arms.

Bruce raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Nightwing’s been keeping his distance,” Diana continued. “Even for him, this is unusual.”

“He’s handling Blüdhaven,” Bruce said simply, but there was a tension in his voice that Diana didn’t miss.

“And you believe that?” she asked, her tone challenging.

Bruce didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the screen in front of him.

Diana sighed. “You trust him. I understand that. But trust doesn’t mean ignoring the signs.”

Nightwing’s Perspective

Back in his safe house, Dick reviewed the feeds again. Everything was moving according to plan, but the cracks in his façade were starting to show.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed for a moment. This was the price of control, of keeping the balance. But as long as he stayed ahead, as long as no one saw the truth, he could keep it all together.

Because if they ever did?

The game would be over.

Chapter Text

Titans Tower - Gar’s Perspective

“Has anyone seen Dick today?” Gar asked, his frustration evident as he paced the common room.

“Not since yesterday,” Raven replied, her tone indifferent as she flipped through her book.

Kory frowned. “He said he’d check in, but…” Her voice trailed off as she exchanged a glance with Gar.

The door to the common room slid open, and Dick strolled in, his Nightwing suit replaced by casual clothes and a disarming grin. “Miss me?”

“Dude, where have you been?” Gar blurted out. “We’ve been trying to reach you all day!”

“Handling a situation in Blüdhaven,” Dick said smoothly, brushing past Gar to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Nothing to worry about.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed as she looked up from her book. “You’ve been handling a lot of ‘situations’ lately.”

Dick shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. “That’s what happens when you’re the guy everyone calls for help.”

Gar folded his arms. “We’re supposed to be a team, man. You can’t just keep disappearing on us.”

“I’m not disappearing,” Dick replied, his tone calm but firm. “I’m making sure we’re covered on all fronts. You trust me, right?”

The room fell silent. Kory studied him carefully, her expression softening despite her lingering concern.

“Of course we do,” she said finally. “We just want to know you’re okay.”

Dick smiled, the picture of reassurance. “I’m fine, Kory. Promise.”

Gotham City - Bruce’s Perspective

Bruce Wayne stood in the Batcave, his eyes scanning the data feeds projected before him. Dick’s recent activity—or lack thereof—hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Any luck?” came Alfred’s voice as he approached with a tray of tea.

“Not yet,” Bruce replied, his tone clipped. “But something’s not right.”

“Master Dick has always been resourceful,” Alfred said, setting the tray down. “Perhaps he’s simply trying to handle things on his own.”

Bruce frowned. “That’s what worries me.”

He tapped a few keys, pulling up a map of Blüdhaven. Red dots marked the areas where Nightwing had been spotted over the past week, but there was no clear pattern—just chaos.

“He’s moving like he’s covering something up,” Bruce muttered.

“Then perhaps it’s time to ask him directly,” Alfred suggested.

Bruce’s gaze lingered on the screen. “I will. But not yet.”

Nightwing’s Perspective

Dick perched on the edge of a rooftop, his gaze fixed on the city below. Jason’s distraction had worked perfectly, keeping the League occupied while he tied up the loose ends of his latest move.

But as he sat there, the weight of his actions began to settle over him. The Titans were growing suspicious. The League was asking questions. Even Bruce, for all his trust, was starting to look too closely.

He couldn’t let them see the cracks.

“Grayson,” Jason’s voice came through the comm. “You’re cutting it close. You sure about this next move?”

Dick smirked. “When have I ever not been sure?”

“Fair point,” Jason replied. “Just don’t come crying to me when it blows up in your face.”

“It won’t,” Dick said, his tone confident. “I’ve got it under control.”

But as he disconnected the call, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered, For how long?

Justice League Watchtower - Diana’s Perspective

Diana stood in the observation deck, staring out at the Earth below. Beside her, Clark approached, his expression troubled.

“Something’s bothering you,” she said without looking at him.

“Nightwing,” Clark admitted. “He’s been…different lately.”

Diana nodded. “I’ve noticed it too. He’s pulling away.”

Clark sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He’s always been independent, but this feels…off.”

Diana turned to face him, her expression resolute. “Then we need to keep an eye on him. If something’s wrong, we’ll find out.”

Chapter Text

Nightwing’s Perspective

Dick sat alone in his Blüdhaven safehouse, the faint glow of his monitors illuminating his face. The tension was palpable, and he could feel the invisible threads of his web tightening. The Titans, the League, even Bruce—they were all starting to question him.

He couldn’t let that happen. Not now, not ever.

Leaning back in his chair, he let a plan take shape. If they wanted him to be transparent, he’d give them a show. A performance so convincing, so utterly believable, that they’d never doubt him again.

Titans Tower - Gar’s Perspective

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe this!” Gar burst into the common room, holding his phone like it was a lifeline.

Raven glanced up from her book, unimpressed. “What now?”

“It’s Dick!” Gar exclaimed, shoving the phone in her face.

The screen displayed a grainy news report from Blüdhaven. The headline read: “Nightwing Abducted by Unknown Assailants.”

Kory gasped, flying over to get a better look. “What? When did this happen?”

“About an hour ago,” Gar said, his voice frantic. “There’s footage, too!”

The video played a chaotic scene: Nightwing fighting off a group of masked attackers before being overwhelmed and dragged into an unmarked van.

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t he call for backup?”

“He’s stubborn,” Kory said, her voice tinged with worry. “We need to find him.”

“I’ll call Bruce,” Gar said, already dialing.

Justice League Headquarters - Clark’s Perspective

The room was abuzz with activity as the League reviewed the footage.

“This isn’t like him,” Diana said, her brows furrowed. “Nightwing always has an exit strategy.”

“Exactly,” Bruce said, his voice calm but his eyes betraying his concern. “Which means something went wrong.”

“Or someone set a trap he didn’t see coming,” Arthur added.

Clark crossed his arms, watching the footage on loop. “We need to move quickly. If they’ve got him, they’ll use him as leverage.”

Bruce nodded. “I’m already tracking the van’s trajectory. I’ll take care of it.”

“No,” Diana interjected firmly. “We’ll take care of it—together.”

The Setup - Nightwing’s Perspective

Dick sat in the dimly lit room, his hands loosely bound with zip ties. Around him, hired mercenaries milled about, oblivious to the fact that their captive was the one pulling the strings.

“Remember,” he said, his voice low but commanding, “you make this look real, or the deal’s off.”

The leader of the group, a grizzled man named Reyes, nodded. “Got it. But this better pay out, Grayson.”

“It will,” Dick assured him. “Just stick to the script.”

Moments later, the sound of heavy boots echoed down the hallway. Dick’s heart raced—not with fear, but with exhilaration. The League was here, right on schedule.

The Rescue - Diana’s Perspective

Diana led the charge, her lasso at the ready as she and the team burst into the hideout. The mercenaries put up a fight, but they were no match for the combined might of the Justice League.

“Find Nightwing!” Diana ordered as she took down another attacker.

Bruce moved through the shadows like a phantom, his eyes scanning every corner. Finally, he found Dick in a small room, slumped against the wall, his face bruised and bloodied.

“Dick,” Bruce said, kneeling beside him and cutting the zip ties. “Are you okay?”

Dick looked up, his expression dazed but relieved. “Took you long enough.”

Bruce’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “We’ll get you out of here.”

Aftermath - Barbara’s Perspective

Back at the Watchtower, Dick was the center of attention. Diana and Kory fussed over him, Gar cracked jokes to lighten the mood, and Bruce stood silently nearby, his presence reassuring.

“You scared us, Dick,” Barbara said softly, her hand resting on his arm.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse but sincere. “Didn’t mean to.”

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Clark said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Dick smiled, his charm back in full force. “You guys always have my back. I couldn’t ask for more.”

As the others voiced their agreement, Dick leaned back in his chair, hiding a smirk.

The game was back on track.

Chapter Text

Nightwing’s Perspective

The city of Blüdhaven was quiet, but Dick’s mind was anything but. He perched on the edge of a high-rise, his masked eyes scanning the streets below. On the surface, everything seemed normal—routine patrols, the usual petty crimes—but Dick’s thoughts were elsewhere.

Jason’s earlier confrontation echoed in his mind. The anger in Red Hood’s voice, the suspicion in his eyes—it was a crack in the carefully constructed façade Dick had spent years perfecting. If Jason pushed harder, if Barbara dug deeper, if Bruce began to piece it all together...

He shook the thoughts away. Worrying was a distraction, and distractions led to mistakes. Mistakes he couldn’t afford.

The comm in his ear crackled. “Nightwing, you there?”

It was Barbara. Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, a tension he couldn’t ignore.

“Always,” he replied, forcing a smile into his tone. “What’s up?”

“Just checking in,” she said. “Things have been... weird lately. Gotham’s heating up, Blüdhaven’s not far behind, and you’ve been hard to reach.”

Dick chuckled lightly. “You miss me, don’t you?”

“Grayson,” she said sharply. “I’m serious. Is everything okay?”

He hesitated, just for a moment. “Everything’s fine, Babs. Promise. Just busy keeping the peace.”

There was a long pause on the other end. “Alright,” she said finally. “But you know I’ll find out if you’re lying.”

“You always do,” he said softly, ending the call before she could press further. He hated lying to her, but the truth was a luxury he couldn’t afford—not yet.

Flashback: A Lesson in Sacrifice

Years ago, before the Titans, before Blüdhaven, Bruce had taught him a hard lesson about the cost of control.

“Every decision has a price,” Bruce had said, his voice low and unyielding. They were in the Batcave, the flickering glow of the computer screens casting shadows on the walls. “You can’t save everyone, and you can’t be everything to everyone. But you can make sure the mission succeeds. That’s what matters.”

Dick, still Robin at the time, had clenched his fists. “What about the people who get hurt along the way? What about them?”

Bruce’s gaze was cold, calculating. “They’re collateral damage. You focus on the greater good, or you lose sight of it entirely.”

Dick had hated those words then. But now, as Nightwing, he understood them in a way he never had before.

Barbara’s Perspective

In the Clocktower, Barbara stared at her monitors, her brow furrowed. Dick’s words replayed in her mind, each one laced with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He was hiding something—of that she was certain.

“Oracle to Red Hood,” she said, opening another line.

“Yeah?” Jason’s voice was curt, impatient.

“Have you noticed anything... off about Nightwing lately?” she asked.

Jason let out a bitter laugh. “You mean aside from the usual brooding and bad jokes? Yeah, Babs, I’ve noticed. He’s up to something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s too smooth,” Jason replied. “Too controlled. Like he’s playing a game and we’re the pieces.”

Barbara’s stomach twisted. “Do you think he’s in trouble?”

“Depends on your definition of trouble,” Jason muttered. “But whatever it is, he’s not telling us.”

Nightwing’s Perspective

Back in his safe house, Dick stared at the wall of monitors. Every screen displayed a different feed—live footage of Blüdhaven, League communications, intel he’d gathered over months of planning. It was a symphony of chaos, and he was the conductor.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaustion tugging at him. The weight of his lies, his schemes, his constant need for control—it was all starting to wear on him. But he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he was so close to achieving what he’d set out to do.

Control had a cost, and Dick Grayson was willing to pay it. But tonight, as he sat alone in the glow of his screens, he couldn’t help but wonder how much more he had left to give.

Chapter Text

Setting the Stage

The plan was ambitious, even by his standards. Dick had spent weeks building the pieces, crafting a narrative that would position him not as a suspect, but as a target.

In the dim glow of his safe house, he reviewed the data once more. A series of break-ins across Blüdhaven, escalating in intensity. A supposed "hit" ordered by an unknown criminal faction. It all pointed to one victim: Nightwing.

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” Dick muttered to himself, smirking. “And that’s saying something.”

He activated his comm. “Oracle, you there?”

“Always,” Barbara replied. There was a hint of relief in her voice; she’d been worried since their last conversation.

“I’ve got a situation,” Dick said, keeping his tone grave. “Blüdhaven’s heating up. I need backup.”

“Backup? Since when do you ask for help?”

“Since now,” he replied sharply. “Are you in or not?”

The Setup

Nightwing’s patrol that evening was carefully choreographed chaos. He allowed himself to be seen, to be tracked. He engaged with low-level thugs, deliberately leaving behind evidence—a dropped escrima stick, a torn piece of his suit. All breadcrumbs leading back to him.

By the time the ambush came, he was ready. A group of hired mercenaries cornered him in an abandoned warehouse, their weapons drawn. Dick let himself take a few hits—just enough to sell the story, not enough to do real damage.

“Give it up, Nightwing,” one of the mercenaries sneered. “You’ve pissed off the wrong people this time.”

Dick grinned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Story of my life.”

Barbara’s Perspective

When the distress call came through, Barbara’s heart skipped a beat. The video feed showed Nightwing, battered and cornered, fighting off a group of armed mercenaries.

“Damn it, Grayson,” she muttered, already calling for backup. “Titans, assemble. Nightwing’s in trouble.”

Within minutes, the team was mobilized. Donna, Wally, and Kory led the charge, bursting into the warehouse just as Dick collapsed under the weight of the fight.

The Aftermath

The mercenaries were subdued, the warehouse secured. As the team gathered around Dick, he played his part perfectly—exhausted, grateful, and just a little bit vulnerable.

“You okay?” Donna asked, concern etched on her face.

“Never better,” Dick replied with a weak smile. “Thanks for the save.”

Barbara knelt beside him, her eyes searching his. “What the hell happened, Grayson?”

“Bad intel,” he lied smoothly. “Didn’t see it coming.”

As the team helped him to his feet, Dick felt the weight of their trust settle around him once more. The suspicion was gone, replaced by concern and camaraderie. His plan had worked.

For now.