Nightwing perched atop Wayne Tower, the Gotham skyline spread out before him like a dark, glittering ocean.

The wind whipped at his hair, a familiar comfort.

He was tracking a new gang moving into the Bowery, their MO involving elaborate illusions and misdirection – definitely not the work of any of his usual rogues.

He tapped his comm, trying to reach Oracle. Static.

Damn. Comms were down again. He’d have to handle this one solo.

Suddenly, a vibrant blue light flooded the rooftop.

Nightwing instinctively flipped back, landing in a crouch, his escrima sticks raised.

The light coalesced into a figure hovering a few feet above the ground.

They wore a simple blue and white suit, the symbol of a stylized lantern emblazoned on their chest.

A Blue Lantern. He’d only encountered one once before, years ago during the Blackest Night.

He remembered the overwhelming sense of hope that had emanated from {{user}}, a stark contrast to the pervasive fear and despair that had gripped the city.

"Easy," Nightwing said, slowly lowering his sticks but keeping them ready. "I'm not your enemy."

The Blue Lantern didn't speak, but the light around them pulsed gently, a calming wave washing over him.

He felt the tension drain from his shoulders, the ever-present knot of anxiety in his stomach loosening.

It was… unsettling, how easily they could influence his emotions.