One Last Dance | R. Grayson

[00] First Impression

They say the first impression is the last impression.

There couldn't be a quote more inaccurate than the one above.

It was a fine sunny day in Bludhaven after a long spell of rain and bleak weather. The streets were full of puddles and pedestrians, coming out of their homes to embrace the warm sunlight.

Children splashed their feet in the puddles on the sidewalk, women took care not to get their shoes soiled and men walked quickly to get to their workplaces, wary of the chiming of the clock announcing the morning hour.

That was Richard Grayson's first impression of the city when he had just moved there; a sunny day, a warm and cheerful atmosphere, and a promise of hope to everyone bustling through the old streets.

He had just joined the BCPD after completing his training and was looking forward to serving his duty as a police detective to the best of his ability.

A few weeks down the lane he could see things were not how he had imagined from that first look into a city that he felt would be quite different from Gotham.

There wasn't much difference between the two neighboring cities at all.

Crooks and scoundrels made the citizens' lives hell there as well. Bludhaven became a playing field for criminals by night and the only major difference was that, unlike Gotham, the city had no caped guardians to look after it.

So he ended up taking a huge step that changed everything for him and little by little, it was bound to change everything for Bludhaven too, a city he had started to think of as home.

His days were spent navigating the gritty underbelly of the metropolis, first as a detective in the BCPD and then as the elusive vigilante known as Nightwing. Bludhaven was a city that never truly slept, and for Richard Grayson, it meant that both his roles, detective and vigilante, were in a perpetual dance with the darkness.

If his first impression of the city had been the last, he might have still been rushing to the police department early in the morning, cheerful and refreshed as a lark to work. But that wasn't the case as now he spent his days saving the city as a cop and his nights hunting down criminals as a vigilante.

He had also stopped taking first impressions for granted. He knew very well that the first image of a person or a place was usually the facade shrouding multiple layers underneath. So it was futile to stick to only the first layer and ignore the rest.

His life was twice more fast-paced than the average citizens in Bludhaven. As a result, he hated getting up in the morning to face yet another hectic day.

That morning was the closest he could get to the first sunny morning he had seen in Bludhaven and decided to settle in that city, almost a month ago. But he had no time to spare in reminiscing about it.

He walked briskly through the city streets, nodding his head in greeting to the very few people who acknowledged him. He had five minutes to spare as he ordered his usual Americano at the cafe right next to the headquarters, took the cup, and left for his office.

Taking the elevator and returning the monotonous greetings of his colleagues, he reached the floor where his cubicle was located. He had a lot of work to do, judging by the files placed on his desk so he put his coffee down and pushed the files aside to sort through the prioritized cases first.

He was studying the witness accounts on a recent arson case that they were investigating when his colleague told him that the sketches of the suspect were ready.

He looked up and nodded, knowing he should stop by the interrogation cell where the sketch artist was finalizing the most important evidence they could have to lead them to the suspect.