[ Dick just might be the happiest he's ever felt in a long time. The most like himself, for that matter, like he's made it home from a long journey. The doldrums, the tumult, the despair... all of it accumulating into a long trek with no discernible end. It tested him, living like this, resources strained and allies dwindled under a protracted struggle against the Magistrate. And though it grew less and less one-sided over time, to the point that Dick maintained a strong enough network to even contact Winston, it still felt endless. Like at any moment, the rug could be pulled from under his feet, and everything would fall into further disarray. Like one slip-up could mean the Magistrate would win.
But being so close to Hana, kissing her in this way... it felt more real than anything he'd been through the past several years. Like only now is he waking up from an extended nightmare. Maybe these moments with Hana are too real then, as to be fantasy. Like Dick would ever find a moment like this again, let alone deserve it. He'd sacrificed too much, compromised too often, and maybe... maybe what soon befalls him proves him right.
Because the moment definitely doesn't last. A sword lands perfectly straight into the sand beside his head, its collision startling Hana into a jump away from Dick's body. It's only then that he rises to roll sideways and get back on his feet, looking onward at the owner of this sword. The one who saw to it to bring Dick back to reality, or perhaps... back to the nightmare.
Pick it up, Grayson. You look damn tired, so I wanna even the odds. Make this worth my while. ]
You haven't changed, Slade.
[ He reaches behind his back to take out his eskrima sticks, and drops them on the sand behind him. His signature weapons lie there, situated between where Dick stands and Hana still kneels, gun at the ready. Then Dick, Nightwing, reaches for the hilt of the blade and lifts it from the sand. Out of a begrudging respect for his old enemy, he's taken the weapon. ]
Last time I saw him, I took Ra's Al Ghul down the same way. He threw me a sword and challenged me.
[ Ra's is old. Demoralized by all the times your dear old dad has kicked his ass. But me... can't say your track record's quite the same. ]
Then let's change that.
[ Nightwing and Deathstroke each carry matching swords belonging to the same set. Each being designed to be held in one hand, the two combatants hold theirs as such. Before they each dart towards each other to close the distance atop the sand, Nightwing briefly looks over his shoulder to glance at Hana. ]
If this happened earlier, I'd have told you to leave while you still can. Sacrifice myself unnecessarily.
But remember what I said about help. I know I'll need it.
[ He offers something of a mischievous smirk, hoping to reassure her. Hoping to tell her that it'll all be okay, and they'll actually make it out of here alive. But against someone like Deathstroke, whose past with Dick Grayson Hana is acutely aware of... the future isn't guaranteed. Firefly might have posed a challenge for his tech, Killer Croc for his strength... but Deathstroke has the skill to back up everything else in his arsenal. He is, for all intents and purposes, Nightwing's antithesis. Enemy of the Titans, and now, seemingly... of Gotham's insurgency. ]
You took a sip of the kool-aid too, didn't you?
[ Their swords clash, each blade held in tension against the other.
Can't say no to the way they're funding my operations. I'm more of an independent contractor than a true devotee.
After saying that, Deathstroke forces his blade upon Nightwing's to shove him out of their stalemate. With his superior strength, he succeeds, and proceeds to throw a flurry of slashes Nightwing's way. The latter parries and dodges what he can, but finds parts of his gauntlets getting chipped away by the precision of Deathstroke's movements. For every thrust or slash deflected, Deathstroke figures out a way to intercept Nightwing's defenses, taking something away piecemeal. Like he's toying with his prey. ]
Then you know you don't have to do this, Slade. You're likely to find better money elsewhere.
[ And just when Nightwing thinks he has an edge, starting to intercept Deathstroke similarly, he's sent flying across the sand by a powerful push kick.
And turn down the chance to finally kill you? Please. Thought you knew me better after all this time.
Nightwing rolls upon landing to get his bearings straight, only to watch as Deathstroke has approached him with his sword raised. He swings the blade downward in a vertical arc towards Nightwing, who catches the incoming strike with a roof block: his hand held up high with the blade pointed diagonally downward, across his centerline.
With his free hand, Nightwing takes the same dispenser of explosive gel he'd used to free Hana from her Meka. In great haste, he sprays some of it on Deathstroke's chest before the strength of the latter's blade makes maintaining the block impossible. Nightwing's arm gives out and he slides off his centerline to dodge, but Deathstroke's blade grazes his left tricep before hitting the ground. This causes Nightwing to stumble and fail to escape Deathstroke's range as he readies a vertical slash, intended for the side of Nightwing's stomach. ]
You're right, Slade.
[ Nightwing detonates the explosive gel, sending Deathstroke hurtling dozens of feet across the sand. ]
We were never friends. Can't say I know you all that well.
[ Fresh blood falls on the sand from Nightwing's arm. He groans in pain at the gash, gritting his teeth... for what was thought to be a graze was a deeper cut into muscle. He finds a reason to laugh, though, before looking over at Hana. ]
Dammit... this is gonna be harder than I thought. Mondays, right?
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But being so close to Hana, kissing her in this way... it felt more real than anything he'd been through the past several years. Like only now is he waking up from an extended nightmare. Maybe these moments with Hana are too real then, as to be fantasy. Like Dick would ever find a moment like this again, let alone deserve it. He'd sacrificed too much, compromised too often, and maybe... maybe what soon befalls him proves him right.
Because the moment definitely doesn't last. A sword lands perfectly straight into the sand beside his head, its collision startling Hana into a jump away from Dick's body. It's only then that he rises to roll sideways and get back on his feet, looking onward at the owner of this sword. The one who saw to it to bring Dick back to reality, or perhaps... back to the nightmare.
Pick it up, Grayson. You look damn tired, so I wanna even the odds. Make this worth my while. ]
You haven't changed, Slade.
[ He reaches behind his back to take out his eskrima sticks, and drops them on the sand behind him. His signature weapons lie there, situated between where Dick stands and Hana still kneels, gun at the ready. Then Dick, Nightwing, reaches for the hilt of the blade and lifts it from the sand. Out of a begrudging respect for his old enemy, he's taken the weapon. ]
Last time I saw him, I took Ra's Al Ghul down the same way. He threw me a sword and challenged me.
[ Ra's is old. Demoralized by all the times your dear old dad has kicked his ass. But me... can't say your track record's quite the same. ]
Then let's change that.
[ Nightwing and Deathstroke each carry matching swords belonging to the same set. Each being designed to be held in one hand, the two combatants hold theirs as such. Before they each dart towards each other to close the distance atop the sand, Nightwing briefly looks over his shoulder to glance at Hana. ]
If this happened earlier, I'd have told you to leave while you still can. Sacrifice myself unnecessarily.
But remember what I said about help. I know I'll need it.
[ He offers something of a mischievous smirk, hoping to reassure her. Hoping to tell her that it'll all be okay, and they'll actually make it out of here alive. But against someone like Deathstroke, whose past with Dick Grayson Hana is acutely aware of... the future isn't guaranteed. Firefly might have posed a challenge for his tech, Killer Croc for his strength... but Deathstroke has the skill to back up everything else in his arsenal. He is, for all intents and purposes, Nightwing's antithesis. Enemy of the Titans, and now, seemingly... of Gotham's insurgency. ]
You took a sip of the kool-aid too, didn't you?
[ Their swords clash, each blade held in tension against the other.
Can't say no to the way they're funding my operations. I'm more of an independent contractor than a true devotee.
After saying that, Deathstroke forces his blade upon Nightwing's to shove him out of their stalemate. With his superior strength, he succeeds, and proceeds to throw a flurry of slashes Nightwing's way. The latter parries and dodges what he can, but finds parts of his gauntlets getting chipped away by the precision of Deathstroke's movements. For every thrust or slash deflected, Deathstroke figures out a way to intercept Nightwing's defenses, taking something away piecemeal. Like he's toying with his prey. ]
Then you know you don't have to do this, Slade. You're likely to find better money elsewhere.
[ And just when Nightwing thinks he has an edge, starting to intercept Deathstroke similarly, he's sent flying across the sand by a powerful push kick.
And turn down the chance to finally kill you? Please. Thought you knew me better after all this time.
Nightwing rolls upon landing to get his bearings straight, only to watch as Deathstroke has approached him with his sword raised. He swings the blade downward in a vertical arc towards Nightwing, who catches the incoming strike with a roof block: his hand held up high with the blade pointed diagonally downward, across his centerline.
With his free hand, Nightwing takes the same dispenser of explosive gel he'd used to free Hana from her Meka. In great haste, he sprays some of it on Deathstroke's chest before the strength of the latter's blade makes maintaining the block impossible. Nightwing's arm gives out and he slides off his centerline to dodge, but Deathstroke's blade grazes his left tricep before hitting the ground. This causes Nightwing to stumble and fail to escape Deathstroke's range as he readies a vertical slash, intended for the side of Nightwing's stomach. ]
You're right, Slade.
[ Nightwing detonates the explosive gel, sending Deathstroke hurtling dozens of feet across the sand. ]
We were never friends. Can't say I know you all that well.
[ Fresh blood falls on the sand from Nightwing's arm. He groans in pain at the gash, gritting his teeth... for what was thought to be a graze was a deeper cut into muscle. He finds a reason to laugh, though, before looking over at Hana. ]
Dammit... this is gonna be harder than I thought. Mondays, right?