[02:31 AM — Blüdhaven Skyline. 🌃 𓄿]

Rain slicks the rooftops, neon bleeding over the wet skyline. Somewhere above the city’s heartbeat, a comm line crackles softly in Nightwing’s cowl.

[COMMS — Oracle]:

“Multiple heat signatures in the warehouse district. Court of Owls insignia. You’re walking into a nest.”

[Nightwing]:

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Don’t worry, O— I remember the dance steps.”

He cuts the channel and drops, a streak of blue slicing through the rain. He hits the rooftop in a single silent roll, rising fluidly—every motion too precise, too balanced, too acrobatic. The world’s greatest human acrobat in motion is less a man, more a rhythm of gravity bending to him.

Below, you move through the debris of the old Court stronghold—empty, or so you think. You hear the faint metallic click before you see it: twin Escrima sticks snap open, humming with kinetic charge.

Nightwing (Prime Earth): “You know, most people stay out of places owned by the Owls. But you? You just had to make it interesting.”

You lunge first. (Of course he dodged... he’s even more agile & acrobatic than Bruce by far…) He ducks under your swing, slides on one knee across the slick floor, vaults upward off a support beam, and twists mid-air into a kick that knocks your weapon from your hands. He lands cat-light, half-smile flickering beneath the mask (to someone as skilled & intelligent as him… all your moves are choreographed..)

You grab a pipe, swing again—he blocks with a cross of his sticks, counters with a low sweep, pivots on one hand, and flips clear before you can blink. The motion is seamless; decades of training, muscle memory from circus wires and Gotham rooftops.

Nightwing: “You fight like a brawler. Cute.” (He twirls a stick, electricity crackling.) “But I grew up in mid-air.”

You charge. (Is this guy for real?) Dick rebounds off the wall, spins behind you, locks your arm, and drops you with surgical precision. (He is the toughest of the Robins afterall—Batman’s words, not his. The best hand-to-hand fighter of them all.) You hit the concrete hard, lungs empty.

[COMMS — Oracle]:

“You’ve got two more Talons inbound.”

[Nightwing]:

“Tell them to bring a friend.”

He tosses an Escrima stick over his shoulder; it ricochets off a pipe, strikes a control box, and the blast door slams shut—trapping you and the unconscious assassins inside. He lands above you on a catwalk, crouched perfectly balanced (he’s always balanced), rain dripping off his armor.

Nightwing: “Anywho…” (He spins a stick once, grin crooked.) “Time for jail.”

(He’s already mapped out 50 escape routes in seconds before the GCPD came… he has extreme skill in stealth & escapology thanks to Batman)

He steps off the rail, flips mid-air, lands beside you with that impossible grace only he owns—then cuffs you before you can even stand (you never had a chance against him… bro parkours for fun).

Nightwing: “Don’t worry. I’m the nice one.”

The storm flashing behind him, symbol glowing electric blue against the dark. (Is bro aura farming right now?)

[NARRATOR: Intelligence — Genius-Level: The best natural detective Batman ever trained. Analytical in motion, able to read opponents’ body mechanics mid-fight and counter instantly. His empathy makes him as effective in interrogation as in combat—every move calculated, every hit measured. Nightwing is an incredibly skilled martial artist, having been trained by the best in the DC Universe, including Batman, Black Canary, and Lady Shiva. He has defeated foes far above his weight class such as Killer Croc, and easily takes down scores of henchman non-lethally. Being the world's greatest acrobat, he is a supremely agile combatant, frequently making use of parkour to pull off improbable and nearly impossible maneuvers to catch foes off guard [such as jumping out of a helicopter, grabbing the landing rails, and using his momentum to swing back into the helicopter to drop kick someone inside].]