Vigilante Struggles

chapter 39

Happy new year guys. Enjoy this little chapter as Jason discovers a new player briefly mentioned back when the court invaded Wayne Manor, and poor Dick begins to realise Slades influence runs deeper than he thought. Plus! I threw out a few chapters in a one shot fanfic so feel free to check that out too!!

Jason adjusted his position on the damp Blüdhaven roof top. It was his third night here and if nothing happened tonight he will step back and let his hunch go. Tapping at the side of his helmet allowed him to zoom in on his target. Lorna Fitz. She was currently sitting at her bedroom desk, flicking through notes, not really reading them. A typical college student picture, if she wasn't so nervous. The laptop screen had gone dark, her eyes darting to the clock, posture tense. The table was shaking lightly with her leg bouncing in time with her tapping pen and Jason felt that weird feeling in his chest again.

She held an air of familiarity, but he couldn't place her. Maybe he knew her at some point during his time as Robin, maybe he saved her as Red Hood, who cares? He was going to find out exactly who she was, after all, she knew who they were. He didn't like how little he knew about her. A quick background check placed her in foster care, a bright girl throughout school, a promising future 'blah blah blah'. That was it however. No information was provided about how she got into the system. No clues about her biological parents, any information about her previous foster families were wiped and she was never formally adopted.

Jason watched her drop the pen and run a hand through her hair, grabbing it lightly before releasing. She stresses with her hair a little more before throwing it up into a ponytail, opting to fidget with her nails instead. She turns to look at the clock, waiting, her eyes following the little arm as it ticked, ticked, ticked. Jason's full attention was on her now.

A knock on the door startled her. She stood slowly, a hand pressed to her forehead. She took small steps, edging closer until the knock sounded again, this time more aggressively. She opens it slowly but was quickly shoved out of the way by the door swinging inwards.

Jason changed his position and began recording the scene in front of him, ready to get involved should he need to. A large man muscled his way into her open living room, his posture tight, angry. Moving slightly, Jason tries to see his face, get some kind of ID before he intervened in whatever this was.

He leans forward as the man folds his arms across his chest, the jacket stretching over his broad back. Unintelligible words were exchanged and Jason cursed himself for not asking Tim for that audio device he developed awhile back. He moves silently onto the fire escape that resided by her kitchen, it provided a good view of the open plan space but mystery man still had his back turned. Words came a little clearer and Jason was shocked by how familiar the man sounded.

A hard slap followed by a soft thump snatched Jason from his thoughts as Lorna crashes to the floor, a shaking hand holding her face. Even as a young boy Jason was good at drawing lines and this is where he drew his now. Red Hood practically slammed the sliding door to the side as he enters in two quick strides, his hands grabbing the rim of the small round table, pulling it up and ramming the flat slide into the man. Red Hood kept the pressure, shoving the man into the wall behind him. Jason barely had time to react when he finally caught sight of mystery man. He was in deep shit.

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Dick watched as the two men of apartment 35 counted packets of little blue tablets while another flicked through $50 dollar notes before squashing them into another wad among countless others. Another five men sat at a make-shift poker table where more money and different coloured tablets and salts lay.

He could go in hard and take them all out at once, but he had a hunch that they were a smaller group of something much bigger. He was trying to pick out the head man.... and there, a shorter man in the kitchen area. He sat on the counter top, his greedy fingers flicking through a wad of cash, his legs swinging with a false confidence. He wasn't chosen because he was a strong leader, no he was chosen because he would do what he's told. A glorified coward.

Standing up, Dick stretched, his shoulders popping as he pulls them behind his neck. He was still wearing the uniform slade Wilson forced him into, except now there was a messy blue Nightwing sigil across his chest and shoulders courtesy of Dick's more creative side and a can of spray paint he confiscated off a potential vandaliser awhile back.

Even though not much made sense to him right now, fighting did. So with his usual cocky grin, Nightwing crashed through the window of apartment 35. He didn't have his escrisma sticks but he made do with his fists as the men scramble for a miracle. One by one they went down until only one man remained conscious. The glorified coward, and what a picture he was too.

"Oh man please."

Nightwing chuckled. It wasn't his usual layed back laugh but a cold merciless sound that silenced the man. Dick remained concealed in a shroud of shadows, his outline barely visible but his presence was massive.

"Shit. Shit...man. who are you? I'll tell you everything I know if you leave me be!"

This is why Dick never critisied a drug King's choice of men, it made it easier for him. There was some kind of sick satisfaction within him at seeing the sweat glisten on the man's forehead as he edged closer, one boot followed by the other, exiting the shadows with unrivaled grace. He smirked lightly as the man squirmed into a better sitting position against the broken cabinet. His back pressed up against the door so hard that it creaked and began to pull itself off the hinges.

"Night....Nightwing. Shit man, you won't hurt me? Will you"

The man fidgeted, uncomfortable with Nightwing's unusual silence, his small relief at the most 'light-hearted" bat member diminishing as booted feet got closer. There was no time to react when a gloved hand wrapped around his neck, yanking him upwards with brutal force.

"Who?"

The man choked and spluttered but he gave in immediately.

"Roland. Desmond Roland"

The man is dropped to the floor, drinking in fresh air, rubbing his neck in an attempt to sooth it. Nightwing stared at the man. He had never gone that far before, where his interrogation left ghastly bruises on the neck, when he didn't stop when he could have, applied more force then he should have. Not as Nightwing anyways. Renegade did however and for a moment Dick stood confused. The man cowered below him, coughing and gasping, refusing to look up from the floor.

Dick stepped back, disgusted. His reflection in the microwave reminded him he was Nightwing right now. It grounded him, but a little voice in the back of his head told him he should get help. He had enjoyed scaring this man, hurting the others and he knew that the old Dick Grayson would never act or think like that.

Making up his mind, he left. There was only one person he could trust right now.