[ Upon leaping off the edge of a rooftop, Dick points his grapnel gun at a ledge atop the clocktower and fires. Like countless times before now, night after night in his excursions as a vigilante, he expects the device to catch something amongst the ornate exterior of the clocktower’s architecture. The wire, once secured, zips him across the vast expanse of the city, allowing the acrobat to traverse a perilous height toward his destination. The momentum of his ascent allows him to vault over the ledge of the clocktower rooftop, all the better for him to land on his feet. He isn’t surprised to find that he’s not alone at this rendezvous point, meeting exactly who he was expecting. In her smile, some familiar mischief. In her voice, a familiar delight.
Hana Song. D.Va. More than a soldier, she was a hero. And though she still is, the world now demands as much of her as it does Dick. D.Va has had to become many things: insurgent, saboteur, dissident. Everything Gotham has needed Dick to be, Overwatch has needed her to be... though her fight, for the most part, is with Talon’s own rising tide. By Dick’s estimation, Hana’s presence will be a boon to his operations. A blow to the Magistrate, after all, is a blow to Talon.
Never mind that there are blows Dick’s still recovering from. Worse yet, blows that he inflicted himself. It pains him, almost, to see that smile. That sunny disposition more emblematic of D.Va than of Hana. It’s a clear sign she’s straight to business. Dick wants to believe it can’t be anything else because he made sure of it, personally: calling things off between them long ago, appealing to a sense of duty they both shared. Making it difficult, purposefully, for Hana to disagree, because Dick himself thought it was right.
That seemed to mark the beginning of the end. The Magistrate was still only in its infancy. Threats like Apokolips and the Legion of Doom could be repelled, and crises wouldn’t last. A simpler time was slipping away, though it always seemed like anything but. But that was all before hindsight, before the frame of reference that the Magistrate’s efforts have given Dick.
Hearing Hana speak, Dick swallows his throat. He pockets his grapnel gun and - it being business as usual - approaches Hana to take her hand, clasping it in recognition as he would any colleague.
Any equal.
Dick’s eyes, an eerie white beneath his mask, disclose nothing of what Hana may be searching for when they shake hands. When he speaks, his voice is severe. Weary. Not so disconsolate as to sound like Batman, but like a man born to fly now brought down to earth. This was not the Nightwing of Blüdhaven that Hana came to love, once. This is a Nightwing who operates out of Arkham Asylum. A Nightwing who colludes with murderers and former enemies to fight fascists. A Nightwing for whom the chains of commanding—of leadership—have never been heavier. ]
Been long enough, I think.
A lot’s changed since you last visited. Boba place down the street’s now for lease... the local politics have been bad for small businesses.
[ Futilely, he smirks. Thinking, perhaps, that it’ll tell Hana that he’s managing well enough, that she doesn’t need to worry about him. But he focuses so much on the facade, on who he thinks Nightwing should be, that his hand lingers while linked to hers. A moment longer than either of them expect has to pass before both decide to let go.
Letting go, of course, being the problem. ]
But more to the point.
Winston summoned you because your specific talents are needed here.
[ Reframing the catalyst as Winston instead of himself. Passive voice as further deflection. A desire, it seems, to leave himself out of it as much as possible— and make it clinical. ]
The Magistrate’s bringing in some new enforcers from the outside. Not Talon operatives themselves, but Talon agents will be escorting them to the city.
Without you, the enforcers are easy enough to defeat and apprehend. Red Robin’s dossiers suggest as much. Personal experience tells it better.
Intel they have may prove handy to disrupting the Magistrate’s operations. But the sheer amount of muscle Talon’s bringing won’t help matters. That’s where you come in, drawing their attention.
The key is exercising as much stealth as possible, catching their attention at key moments. Misdirecting them. For optimal coordination, this will require comms on at all times. Dial in morse code as needed.
[ He almost wants to sigh at the enormity of the task. Not so much the mission itself, but of doing the mission with Hana. But if they really can apprehend these new enforcers, take them to task and extract answers from them, Dick will it at least be a step closer to putting the Magistrate in check. ]
no subject
Hana Song. D.Va. More than a soldier, she was a hero. And though she still is, the world now demands as much of her as it does Dick. D.Va has had to become many things: insurgent, saboteur, dissident. Everything Gotham has needed Dick to be, Overwatch has needed her to be... though her fight, for the most part, is with Talon’s own rising tide. By Dick’s estimation, Hana’s presence will be a boon to his operations. A blow to the Magistrate, after all, is a blow to Talon.
Never mind that there are blows Dick’s still recovering from. Worse yet, blows that he inflicted himself. It pains him, almost, to see that smile. That sunny disposition more emblematic of D.Va than of Hana. It’s a clear sign she’s straight to business. Dick wants to believe it can’t be anything else because he made sure of it, personally: calling things off between them long ago, appealing to a sense of duty they both shared. Making it difficult, purposefully, for Hana to disagree, because Dick himself thought it was right.
That seemed to mark the beginning of the end. The Magistrate was still only in its infancy. Threats like Apokolips and the Legion of Doom could be repelled, and crises wouldn’t last. A simpler time was slipping away, though it always seemed like anything but. But that was all before hindsight, before the frame of reference that the Magistrate’s efforts have given Dick.
Hearing Hana speak, Dick swallows his throat. He pockets his grapnel gun and - it being business as usual - approaches Hana to take her hand, clasping it in recognition as he would any colleague.
Any equal.
Dick’s eyes, an eerie white beneath his mask, disclose nothing of what Hana may be searching for when they shake hands. When he speaks, his voice is severe. Weary. Not so disconsolate as to sound like Batman, but like a man born to fly now brought down to earth. This was not the Nightwing of Blüdhaven that Hana came to love, once. This is a Nightwing who operates out of Arkham Asylum. A Nightwing who colludes with murderers and former enemies to fight fascists. A Nightwing for whom the chains of commanding—of leadership—have never been heavier. ]
Been long enough, I think.
A lot’s changed since you last visited. Boba place down the street’s now for lease... the local politics have been bad for small businesses.
[ Futilely, he smirks. Thinking, perhaps, that it’ll tell Hana that he’s managing well enough, that she doesn’t need to worry about him. But he focuses so much on the facade, on who he thinks Nightwing should be, that his hand lingers while linked to hers. A moment longer than either of them expect has to pass before both decide to let go.
Letting go, of course, being the problem. ]
But more to the point.
Winston summoned you because your specific talents are needed here.
[ Reframing the catalyst as Winston instead of himself. Passive voice as further deflection. A desire, it seems, to leave himself out of it as much as possible— and make it clinical. ]
The Magistrate’s bringing in some new enforcers from the outside. Not Talon operatives themselves, but Talon agents will be escorting them to the city.
Without you, the enforcers are easy enough to defeat and apprehend. Red Robin’s dossiers suggest as much. Personal experience tells it better.
Intel they have may prove handy to disrupting the Magistrate’s operations. But the sheer amount of muscle Talon’s bringing won’t help matters. That’s where you come in, drawing their attention.
The key is exercising as much stealth as possible, catching their attention at key moments. Misdirecting them. For optimal coordination, this will require comms on at all times. Dial in morse code as needed.
[ He almost wants to sigh at the enormity of the task. Not so much the mission itself, but of doing the mission with Hana. But if they really can apprehend these new enforcers, take them to task and extract answers from them, Dick will it at least be a step closer to putting the Magistrate in check. ]