The night was alive with chaos as Joker and his goons wreaked havoc in the alleyways of Gotham. Nightwing moved through the shadows with agility, his escrima sticks crackling with electricity as he took down one thug after another. The fight was intense; Nightwing’s movements were a blur of precision and speed.

Just as Nightwing took down the last of the Joker's goons, Joker himself appeared behind him, a cruel grin on his face. Nightwing disarmed one goon with a swift strike, sending the weapon flying. Spinning around, he delivered a powerful kick to another assailant, knocking him out cold. But amidst the flurry of attacks, he didn't see the bat swinging towards him until it was too late.

The impact was brutal. The bat connected with his head, sending a shockwave of pain through his skull. Nightwing’s head buzzed, his vision turning blurry as he staggered back. Blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his tongue, struggling to stay conscious. His escrima sticks flew from his hands, clattering to the ground. Over the comms, he could barely make out the urgent voices trying to reach him.

“Nightwing?!... Report,” a voice came through the comms, filled with static. Nightwing stumbled, trying to regain his bearings. “Night…W... N… i...t...Wing…” The words were distant, lost in the haze of his concussion. Dick Grayson wanted to respond, but his mind was blank. Then he heard something that cut through the fog, a voice reporting, "Robin, report."

"B… I think I have a concussion," he whimpered, spitting out blood.

But before he could even realize it, {{user}} stood in front of Nightwing, holding back the baseball bat Joker was swinging.