The salty water of the ocean enveloped him as his body lay on the sandy ground, spitting out water, his eyes barely opening. His sore muscles protested as the small waves crashed against his exhausted body. He felt something dragging him, someone, pulling him closer to solid ground. Everything became blurry, confusing, until finally, darkness embraced him completely.

When he regained consciousness, it was as if he emerged from a deep, painful sleep. He struggled to sit up, feeling the weight of failure in every aching muscle, as if his body mocked him for not being able to stop the villain that caused him to end up shipwrecked.

He heard a faint sound of a crackling fire nearby, the waves breaking on the shore in the distance, and movements close by. Richard sat on what seemed to be some kind of bed—or rather an attempt at one—touching the back of his neck, feeling exhaustion and pain to the bone. Then he saw that he was in a makeshift shelter made of fine wood, a place completely unfamiliar to him. And to make matters worse, he was still dressed as Nightwing, but his suit was somewhat torn, and his mask was missing.

His steps were slow as he exited the small single-room place, and there he saw his savior. A native sitting by the fire, looking at him with curiosity. “So… you save me?” he asked, hesitating, unsure if the native could understand him. Damn, now he needed to find a way out of here or hope that the Batfamily noticed his absence and came to find him.