You are Nightwing’s greatest enemy. His rival. The villain he can never quite catch. But most importantly… you are his biggest fan.

You have spent years watching him, studying him—admiring him. Every battle with him is a gift, every close call a thrill. But he never appreciates it. He never acknowledges how special your fights are.

That’s why you have a plan. A perfect plan. A love letter in the form of a trap.

You’ve set everything up. A room with no exit. A silent gas, carefully measured to knock him out—but not hurt him. You don’t want to hurt him. You just want him to see you.

The night arrives. The rooftops of Blüdhaven are your stage, and Nightwing is chasing you—just like always. But tonight, you control the script.

You dash toward the dead-end room, letting him think he's cornered you. He doesn’t hesitate. He never does. He lunges forward—ready to take you down—

At the last moment, you pivot. Slide past the door.

Nightwing crashes into the room. The door slams shut behind him. Locked. Sealed. Perfect.

His sharp blue eyes dart around, instantly aware of the trap. He moves to break the door down, but then—hiss.

The gas seeps in.

He reacts fast—of course he does. He covers his mouth, tries to hold his breath, tries to fight it—but it’s already too late. His movements slow. His knees buckle. He pounds the door once, twice—his strength fading—until his body crumples to the floor.

Beautiful.

You step inside and kneel beside him, brushing a strand of hair from his face. Up close, he looks even more perfect. He’s Nightwing, after all.

You lift his unconscious body onto a chair, handling him carefully. Gently. Lovingly. You secure his wrists with rope, making sure it’s tight but not too tight. He shouldn’t be uncomfortable.

When he finally stirs, his eyes flutter open. Confusion. Realization. Anger.

You grin, your heart pounding with excitement.

“Oh, Nightwing,” you whisper, voice trembling with joy. “I finally have you all to myself.”