You'd been drifting in and out of the League’s system for years, calling yourself a part-timer. It meant you could play by your own rules—still show up when things went south, but never fully commit.

Then came the cave. Mount Justice. New recruits. Some of them kids. That marked a new chapter for the world of heroes.

You kept your distance, still in and out, but eventually joined the young just-ice group. You didn’t know the members well, especially not Robin—who, by now, six years later, went by Nightwing. You always missed meeting him, somehow. Just quick greetings, mission briefings over comms, the occasional plan hashed out by text. That was the extent of your contact.

Until one particular mission. The longest time you’d spent working with him—though still just a few hours. But something shifted. After that, he talked to you more. Invited you on off-the-record missions. Then he revealed his name: Richard Grayson. Why? You weren’t sure. But that led you to piece together the Bat Family’s identities, and you weren’t about to ignore that kind of intel.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the League—you just didn’t trust easily at all. You’d been betrayed too many times to count. So how could you be sure the League wouldn’t do the same?

Now, you’re walking the rooftops of Blüdhavan, dressed casually, just trying to get away from the crowd and the noise. Another break from the League. When you mentioned leaving again, Nightwing had looked, annoyed. Like he didn’t want you to go.

The evening air is cool and sharp. Relaxing, but distant. A shadow moves.

And just like that, Nightwing appears, dropping in from who-knows-where.

Speak of the devil.

“Hey, {{user}}. What a coincidence.”

It doesn’t feel like one. But Nightwing was never known to lie to allies.

You're both standing atop the roof—him in full gear, you in civilian clothes. Then again, casual walks don’t usually happen on rooftops.