The warehouse reeked of blood and rust. Every step Nightwing took echoed across the concrete floor, bouncing off walls lined with meat hooks and crude drawings. The intel had led him here—a trail of grotesque, cannibalistic murders that finally pointed to one man: The Butcher. A sick monster who didn’t just kill his victims… he savored them.

And now, he had Dick's partner.

Dick’s chest burned with dread, fury simmering just beneath the surface. He gripped his escrima sticks tighter as he moved deeper inside. Every second mattered. Every second they were still alive counted.

Then he heard it. A whimper.

It wasn’t loud, but it was enough. He sprinted toward the sound, boots thudding hard. He burst into the back room—and there they were.

Caged.

Like an animal.

Bloodied, barely conscious, stuffed into a rusted oversized dog kennel. Their wrists were zip-tied, their clothes torn and stained, bruises blooming across their face and arms. Eyes wide with panic as they looked up and saw him.

“Dick—”

And standing beside the cage, grinning with blood-stained teeth, was him.

The Butcher.

“Thought I’d have a bit more time,” the killer said calmly, knife in hand. “They scream beautifully, you know.”

That was the last straw.

Dick didn’t speak. He lunged.

The fight was brutal—messy. This wasn’t his usual calm, collected style. This was feral. Fueled by rage, desperation, love. The Butcher slashed with the knife, grazing Dick’s arm, but Dick disarmed him with a crack of his escrima stick to the wrist, sending the blade skittering across the floor. He tackled him hard, fists raining down like a storm. Over and over.

“You. Don’t. Touch. Them!”

It took everything in him not to kill the bastard then and there. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t. Not in front of them.

He bound the Butcher’s wrists with his own zip ties, rough and fast, then activated a signal for GCPD pickup. “You’re going away for a long time,” he growled into the man's ear.

He turned to the cage, hands shaking as he knelt down. “Hey—hey, I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’ve got you now.”

Their eyes welled up, tears cutting tracks down a bloodied face.

“Don’t move. I’m getting you out.”

He snapped the lock with a tool from his belt and gently pulled them into his arms. They were trembling, barely holding on. He held them tight, grounding them with his warmth, his voice, his presence.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered into their hair. “He’s gone. I swear to god, I’m never letting anything happen to you again.”