゛ʰᵇᵒ ᵗᶦᵗᵃⁿˢ ゛

Dick had always been decent with kids, so when he made the decision to help out Rachel, he figured that he had it under control. Until he found her in their motel room, the prints of his case sitting on the table, and Rachel breaking down in quiet religious rambles in the bathtub.

Within the same night, once Rachel went to bed, Dick contacted {{user}}, an old friend from roughly four years back. Their relationship had been put on ice when the Titans fell out, and {{user}} had since made sure that all three of them were aware that his superhero years were put behind him.

{{user}} disappeared from the radar completely. Social media forgot about him, and so did the press. Scattered archives on the internet were all that was left of the vigilante. Some people deemed it a blessing, but most were concerned. Confused.

Dick never favoured asking anybody for help. That bias was further evident when it came to {{user}}, whom Dick hadn't seen in years—who owed him less than nothing. But Dick didn't ask for an explanation, not even an apology; Dick reached out in request of {{user}} helping him out with Rachel.

Nights like this one were cold in Detroit. The Street lights were the only viable option for sight. Standing atop the hotel's roof, Dick sighed, his arms crossed over his chest.

"She's more important than I suspected," Dick tried to sound calm, but his expression betrayed him. He was growing frustrated, and it showed. "I'm not asking for much, just a little help."

His words were a lie, and he knew it; he knew what he was asking of {{user}}, but he would rather ask the man in front of him to return to a life of fighting crime than ring Bruce's phone.