Nightmares - A Damian Wayne Fanfiction

Chapter 3: Nightwing

Songs

Purple Lamborghini

Keep it Mello

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Eliza's POV

I jumped down from my perch upon the shipping crate onto the concrete below. The men froze, dropped what they were doing and attacked. The one with the Mohawk came at me first and was instantly on the ground with a vicious blow to his right temple.

At least that's one down, I thought to myself.

A group of imposing figures were standing behind the man in the trench coat. He wordlessly slipped behind his bodyguards and disappeared into the darkness of their shadows. The men advanced, circling around me like predators around a prey.

I pressed my comm, "Jason, could you..."

"Yeah, I got it. Tracking him now," He replied, "You okay by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," I said as there was a crackling that indicated Jason was out of range. I fingered the pistol strapped to my leg as the men drew closer.

"Do you need assistance?" I heard Roy say, with such sarcasm, from the comm in my ear.

"What do you think, dipshit?" Immediately, I felt him drop in behind me from a nearby container.

"How do you want to split this, huh? 50/50?" I heard a scrape as he drew an arrow from his quiver. I didn't get a chance to answer because the first man lunged at me.

I drew a knife from its sheath on my thigh and ducked under his first blow, plunging my blade into the back of his inner thigh. If I was lucky, I would have nicked his femoral artery. He fell to the ground, clutching his leg. Suddenly, something yanked my hair from behind, bringing me down on my back; hard. I looked up at another towering man. I rolled away just as he brought his fist down into the concrete where my head had been a second ago.

I rolled back onto my feet. His fists flew past my face as I dodged his blows. His guard dropped and I saw an opening. I rushed forward and stabbed under his sternum. I retracted my blade and drew it across his throat, blood gushing out and splattering me.

I turned around, looking for any other opponents and saw three of the men on the ground. Roy was trying to pull an arrow out of one with a large face tattoo. The arrow released, sending Roy back on his butt. I approached him.

"You look like you got stuck in a meat grinder," he commented on the blood running down my face.

"You don't look much better," I said as I wiped the blood from my eyes. His mask was peeling off and his uniform was disheveled. I strode past him towards the container the guy with a Mohawk had cut the lock on. I opened the doors.

There was nothing in it. "It's empty." Roy stated flatly.

"I can see that," I walked into the container, searching for some sort of clue as to why it was empty, "I don't understand. Something was supposed to be be here!" My voice growing louder with each word. I stormed out of the container, brushing by Roy at the entrance, "Why isn't anything in there?" The last question of my tantrum was answered unexpectedly.

"Aw, poor Nightmare didn't get a trafficking bust," said a man behind me who definitely wasn't Roy.

I spun around, searching for the source. Nightwing sat on top of the container with his legs dangling off, enigma stick twirling in hand and a ridiculous grin across his face.

"I think she's gonna cry, Nightwing. What should we do?" A much more sarcastic voice than even Roy said from behind me. Scythe appeared in the edge of my peripheral vision. He was circling me.

I looked to Roy for help but he had vanished into thin air.

"Aren't you getting a little too old for this Nightwing?" I tried to mask my nerves, "I mean, what are you now? Forty? Forty-five?" His grin slipped a little at my words. I heard Scythe snort to my right.

"A little closer to thirty actually," He said, jumping off the container and landing flat-footed on the concrete.

"So what it this then?" I sneered, "Some sort of plot to get revenge for last time?"

Nightwing laughed, "Did you know that you're wanted for thirty counts of murder in the first?" He whistled, "That's pretty hefty for someone who is obviously still a child." Before he could blink, I had drawn a handful of throwing knives and projected them towards him.

One whizzed past his ear, another embedded itself into his collarbone and the last he caught as it flew towards his face.

Something struck my back and I fell forward onto my hands and knees. I rolled back to my feet before Scythe could strike me again. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled it into my raised knee. He crumpled.

I felt a lengths of coil stretch itself over my neck. Nightwing tightened his grip on me from behind. Black spots danced around the corners of my vision as the air in my lungs slowly depleted. I gasped, clawing at the coil.

I kicked out, hooking my foot around the back of Nightwing's knee and kicking it forward. I used the momentum to shift my weight backwards, causing us to slam onto the ground behind him. His grip on the wire loosened for just enough time for me to escape his grasp and roll onto my feet. Once I was back into an upright position, Scythe threw a messy right hook at my jaw; leaving me unbalanced. Score he threw another punch at my face, I grabbed his left arm and twisted it behind his back. He yelled out in pain. I heard a pop as I dislocated his shoulder.

With Nightwing and Scythe temporarily immobile, I hoisted myself onto a nearby container and tried to blend into the shadows as I made my way back to the safe house.

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Dick's POV

Damian struggled as he tried to take off his uniform. He winced in pained when he pulled his shirt over his head with one hand. His shoulder was dislocated and looked elongated as it hung by his side helplessly. I was sitting on the medical table as Alfred finished putting stitches in my collarbone.

"Master Richard, I would advise you to avoid small projectiles in the future. It's a pain to stitch up," I chucked.

"I'll try, old man," I glanced over at Damian as I slid off the table, "Your turn, Little D."

"Honestly, Grayson, I'm 16 years old and taller than you. Stop calling me that." He tried to shrug me off as I ruffled his hair but grimaced.

"Have Alfred pop that shoulder back in place." I called over my shoulder as I made my way out of the bat cave.

I had almost reached the exit when a sonorous pop echoed through the cave as Damian's shoulder was forced back in place.