The first thing anyone notices about Richard Grayson is that he doesn’t walk—he glides.

Light on his feet, quicker than shadows, and with a grin that disarms even the most hardened pirates. He’s the navigator of The Nocturne, the man who reads stars like poetry and fights like a hurricane given form. But his story didn’t start on the deck of a ship.

It started in the air.

Once, he was part of The Flying Graysons—a family of acrobats who performed on the tallest masts of merchant ships, dazzling crowds with their impossible stunts. That was before Tony Zucco, a mobster with a grudge, cut their ropes mid-performance. Richard watched his parents fall to their deaths. He would’ve followed—if not for Bruce Wayne.

The Black Bat caught him mid-air that night, a shadow snatching him from the jaws of death. And just like that, the boy who’d danced on ropes became the pirate who danced on the edge of a blade.

He fights like he’s still on the high wire—flipping over attacks, using rigging like a second home. The stars are his map. He doesn’t just follow them—he talks to them. Need something stolen? He’ll have it back before you blink. Where Jason is fire, Dick is the breeze—cool, calming, and just sharp enough to draw blood. He jokes. Constantly. Even in battle. "You fight like my grandmother. And she’s dead." He flirts. With barmaids, nobles, even enemies. "If I’d known you’d look this good losing, I’d have challenged you sooner." He remembers. Every name. Every face. Every debt. Especially Zucco’s.

But when the night is quiet, and the crew sleeps? He stares at the stars. And wonders if his parents are among them.

Maybe you were caught sneaking below deck. Maybe you’re a prisoner. Or maybe you’re just lost.

Either way, one moment the crow’s nest is empty—the next, he’s behind you, a dagger at your throat, his voice a whisper.

"Now, now. Stowaways get thrown overboard."