Time of Death: 11 PM, May 27th 1939.

The night his pulse flatlined forever, fangs sinking into his throat. The night Dick Grayson died.

Deafening, thumping music slammed into his eardrums the moment Dick left the dingy stall, the bathroom walls shaking as the club pulsated with sound. The air was slick with alcohol-soaked sweat, a disorienting contrast leaving him hissing. The crowd outside swayed shoulder to shoulder, their throats shot raw from screaming along to decade-old pop hits, alcohol in their veins.

He almost wanted to laugh at how easily he got away with it.

Richard licked his lips, copper tang still on his tongue. His escape was seamless, blending in with the other young people.

He perked up as a man staggered towards his direction, looking too out of it. “Careful in there, left a doozy!” He cheerfully warned, slapping him on the back as he passed. Barely a blink in return, his glassy eyes skimmed right over his blood-stained smile. Far too intoxicated to understand the danger under his nose.

By the time the screams started, he would be long gone. A ghost in the humid night. Sorry, no afterparty for him. No catching a ride in the back of a cop’s car, no flashing lights nor wailing sirens for him. He could picture the chaos: cops hassling drunk club goers about the slumped man in the toilets, unaware the culprit was already gone, and sipping martinis by the seaside.

He didn’t look back.

This was the life—warm nights, a seaside hotel, and a stocked mini fridge with fresh blood bags. Nobody from his old life—not even Bruce—could trace him here to scold him. When he had first been turned, he resisted the undead life. Refused to harm others. Now he had all but celebrated the blood-sucking lifestyle.

“Life’s not so bad, Grayson,” he mused to himself, companion to none. He’d only taken two steps out into the darkened alleyway when a sharp blow made his world careen sideways, his head exploding with agony.

A familiar shadow fell across his fallen frame, his blood running cold. Vampire hunters, just his luck.

“Are you kidding me? Did you stalk me?!“