gourmetburgers | [dickva] love in a hopeless place ;(

[dickva] love in a hopeless place ;(

[ The Magistrate held Gotham City in a tighter chokehold than any before it. Where Gotham has seen corruption swell in the ranks of its police before, ameliorated only by the interventions of Batman in his early career, the city has seen the entrenchment of a more dedicated police state in recent years. The gerrymandering towards the interests of politicians acting as puppets for the Magistrate, in a more clandestine and concerted effort than even the Court of Owls had ever mounted, divided the city. Swayed public opinion to favor and rationalize the excessive force of the police, who then could dispense gratuitous violence upon Gotham's citizens with impunity. Every little thing was micromanaged, the slightest mistake punished with the severity of a Special Tribunal.

This couldn't have happened at a worse time. Justice League personnel were either missing or scattered, mired in turmoils of their own. Though Bruce had a plan in motion and was ready to execute it against the Magistrate, he had suddenly vanished. As time passed, it was becoming increasingly plausible to just presume that Batman was dead. But Bruce has pulled a disappearing act before, lost in time thanks to Darkseid's omega beam, only to restore himself to the present. Dick wants to believe Bruce is still out there, biding his time with some miracle he's preparing-- something to put an end to the Magistrate's impositions of martial law. Though the Magistrate represents a larger tide of authoritarian power moves across the globe, Dick sees a chance here to flip hegemony's chessboard.

Because he can't wait for Bruce. He can't hold out for something not guaranteed.

Nightwing has to act.

And his first measure was to found an insurgency, comprised of allies and former enemies alike. Gone now were the days of mysteries, conspiracies, wars for criminal capital. The stuff that Gotham's heroes tended to fight had become a bygone luxury in hindsight, a luxury compared to the violent surveillance of the Magistrate. Nightwing has had to spread himself thin, fighting the Magistrate's forces at every step. Protecting independent subversives from being targeted in their homes, protecting innocent people from being attacked out on the streets... it's everything Dick has ever done, with greater intensity. A political urgency.

Without the Justice League to call upon, Dick has had to expand his network of contacts. Pull from the world of heroes he grew up in, whose ideas raised him as much as Bruce's have. Clark had the Legion of Superheroes to count on, at times. Hal, the might of the Green Lantern Corps. Bruce, the Batmen of All Nations. And while Dick had the Titans, who were themselves spread thin across all corners of the globe, he had the Outsiders here in Gotham. He had everyone who's ever been impacted by him and Bruce enough to join their war on crime.

And now, he has Overwatch.

There's no denying that the Magistrate was getting extra firepower from Talon, supplying the regime with organic and omnic muscle alike. The escalation this brought forth warranted Dick's own, bringing him to his multi-monitored terminal in Arkham Asylum, whose inner chambers he's turned into his own secret headquarters. ]

Connect me to Winston, Tim. It's time.

[ In a text message on the screen, Tim assents. Winston appears on screen, ready to address Dick. ]

I know you have some action ongoing in Gibraltar.

But for the mission ahead, I'm gonna need some extra firepower. Cover for what I plan to do in the shadows.

Anybody on standby?

[ Upon receiving confirmation, Dick receives coordinates. He knows who's being sent his way, and where. Amidst the chaos of everything necessitating this situation... it's who he hoped it would be. But part of him has to bury that hope, for now, the joy of anticipation so at odds with his task.

The coordinates Winston sent correspond to a rendezvous point on top of Oracle's former clocktower. ]

Thanks, Winston. I'll debrief when I reach the rendezvous point.

[ Best not to communicate everything here. Dick knows better than to be too candid on encrypted channels.

With that, Dick gears up. Puts on a reinforced version of his typical Nightwing ensemble, all to protect him when facing down more cybernetic threats. Clandestinely, he exits the asylum and grapples high, keen to avoid detection by the Magistrate's searchlights. He anticipates reaching the clock tower in five minutes, the speed and fluidity of his body utterly compelled by the importance of his mission. Everyone has their place, active throughout Gotham to make the Magistrate fight a war on all fronts.

As leader, Dick has his place. Making sure everything goes according to plan. He just needs a little help to do it.

Because if Bruce isn't here to produce a miracle, Dick will. ]

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[ 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?

Edited 2021-05-28 20:35 (UTC)

[ It was the relief from all of the song and dance they did tonight. They battled their ghosts, stomached their regrets, come to terms that – life was far too short. They didn't need to rush to meet their maker halfway. Hana was swept up in the moment, feeling like the current of the bay was still rushing around her. She remembers his kiss, how even with the force of a fighter... he was desperate. They enjoyed all they could – time not even made up for by the time someone joins the fray.

She can't say she understands it. Honor among enemies. She thinks of how easily he could have driven that sword through both of them. Part of her is insulted, part of her is annoyed. Are they really going to do this? Her gun remains ready, aimed with precision and confidence that if Dick tells her to fire – she'd take the shot without hesitation. It wouldn't do much, but it would do enough.

Dick does a poor job at reassurance. Buddy, she gave you smooches and now you're swordfighting? Not cool. Total mood killer. Hana's a few feet from Dick's weapons – tactical enough to make note that if need be... if guns didn't do well, she can handle his stick quite nicely. ;) The scene unfolds too quickly and she isn't sure at what point she comes up with the idea but – she presses the comm receiver on the inside of her wrist, sending a beacon directly to Winston. ]

Winston! Going to need a retrieval crew ASAP! If Meka III is primed – huuuhhh? No way!

[ Hana almost feels naked without the giant mech, it shows. She feels... vulnerable when she is waiting to take a damn shot or act on her own. The last thing she wants to do is compromise anything, to risk Dick getting hurt. To get a mission failure. When Winston breaks the news that her 'back-up' mech wasn't ready for launch, she curses – right when explosions rock her back onto her ass as well. ]

Nightwing!

[ She feels childish, like a kid crying out for no reason. This was the reality of it: there wasn't a respawn with something like this. Dick was hurt and it's in those short few seconds – not even a friggin minute – that Hana weighs her options. ]

Forget Mondays, you're not doing this alone. I do not care what stupid macho man-showdown you want. This isn't 1 v 1 and if you leave me out again, we sooo aren't doing that again!

[ Time to test that theory – as the 'dust' settles... what will be awaiting, hmmm. ]

Edited 2021-05-29 05:38 (UTC)

[ It is quite arbitrary, the pretext of honor dictating this duel. But it's this same honor that just might be saving Nightwing's life, as the quick and easy kill well within Deathstroke's abilities simply didn't happen. Dick and Hana could be dead already, but neither of them should take this as an extension of Slade's mercy. Dick knows him all too well, understands that Slade's just priming his prey for a more satisfying kill. Dick laughs, then, as he steadily rises to stand upright, sword in hand. ]

This isn't the first time you've tried this, Slade.

It's probably mortifying to you that I'm still alive-- alive for you to even attempt this.

[ Oh, it won't be much of an attempt this time.

Slade readies his own blade and charges at Nightwing, who can't respond quick enough to his opponent's enhanced movements. Blades clash as Nightwing barely manages a block, stepping off Slade's centerline to attempt a counter with a redondo strike-- slashing Deathstroke's chestplate in a vertical circular motion. But as Nightwing's blade descends after the apex of the slash, Deathstroke steps in to seize the wrist of Nightwing's sword arm with his free hand, which pulls his arm taut. In that same instant, Deathstroke presses his forearm - belonging to his own sword arm - against Nightwing's tricep, compelling him to bend down sideways. But then Deathstroke commits, shoving Nightwing down facefirst into the sand, letting the impact do the work of disarming him.

Because upon falling, Nightwing does let go of his sword. And Deathstroke still maintains control of Nightwing's wrist and tricep, taking the opportunity to shift their momentum so he can swing his legs over Nightwing's chest. Deathstroke keeps his opponent's arm taut between his legs as the two men both land on their backs. It's while he remains locked in this armbar that Nightwing grits his teeth, looking around to search for D.Va in the vicinity.

Upon finding her, he shoots her an imploring look. ]

Whatever you can do, D.Va, do it.

I've distracted him long enough!

[ Distracted, you say? Don't insult me, Grayson.

Deathstroke stretches his body on the sand, pulling Nightwing's arm - already locked straight - with it.

I'm going to dislocate your shoulder, now. And after I dislocate your other one just for the hell of it, I'm snapping your neck. Deal? ]

I don't know, Slade. Gonna need more time to think about it.

Is it okay if I follow up by email?

[ Against the might of Deathstroke's technique, here, Nightwing resists. Actively he fights the pull of Deathstroke's body, which stretches in the hopes of dislocating said shoulder. Nightwing's free hand fumbles for something he can use against Deathstroke all the while... but it's only a matter of seconds before his arm will give and Deathstroke will take its mobility from him.

Before that can happen, and with Deathstroke distracted by the prospect of victory, what follows is D.Va's call. ]

[ Hana's recall had always been her 'ace'. Here and now, though? Fleets of Meka were not in high abundance. They worked with what they got. Hana fixed and salvaged most of her more ambitious attempts that ended in a "Nerf This!" callout. Through updates in the recent years, Hana knows how precious her Meka was, how much she relies on it – more than she can rely on herself at time. When Winston drops that bad news – that one of the few remaining units were not ready for disembarking to her... she feels helpless. The salvage team was already en-route, but it does not use to know her machine would be out of commission for days, if not weeks during maintenance.

There are times, uncharacteristically, she would sulk – but now – no. Hana stumbles to her feet with her gun aimed. Firing a few green-sparked shots in Slade's direction when Dick found himself in quite the pickle. There wasn't time for her to lament and wish she had Meka with her. A handful of shots were bringing her back to reality. It wasn't ill-aimed, she goes for weak spots. His collarbone, his bicep – something to loosen the grip and try and get him off. If the energy bullet pierces his suit, so be-it but she was more desperate to try and pry them apart. Give Nightwing a chance to breathe. ]

Save the beef for a burger, idiot!

[ Not like she's a tsundere, just angry – okay. By now, she's getting the impression her gun was the equivalent of a fly - buzzing around and just causing annoyance. Hana drops it with a mad dash, scooping up the two escrima sticks tightly between her gloved grasp. They feel foreign, feel heavier than she'd imagine – but the electricity doesn't spark just yet. Hana kicks sand up, rushing towards the two without common sense at all. Slade has no 'weapon' in his arm by the time he was focusing his strength to break the non-bat, and that was the level Hana thinks she can take him. An overarched swing slams one stick directly down into the side of his shoulder – almost as if it was some swan song for Slade's attempt to take Nightwing's. Her second swing was caught at the wrist, nearly breaking it right then and there. It was close to it, making her fumble the stick directly next to Nightwing. Hm. He bats her off easily, sending her rolling back into the sand with a sobbed gut-wrenching grunt, leaving Deathstroke to focus his attention down for merely a moment – enough for Hana's electrified stick to be thrown with all the force she could muster to any of his upper extremities, preferring a 'headshot' above all else but... we'll see if it hits. ]

[ Not a fan of that stuff, kid. Burgers tend to get sloppy. Messy.

Deathstroke's body tightens its grip around Nightwing's, winning the war of attrition to dislocate his shoulder. He doesn't even so much as look at D.Va while responding to her, seeming to make the mistake of dismissing her as beneath him.

I prefer the kind of food that yields to a cleaner slice. Fish fillets... augh!

But before he can follow through, Deathstroke stomachs several hits from D.Va's gun, every blast scorching his armor, heat piercing through gaps enough to inflict discomfort. Deathstroke might heal quicker than most, but he still feels pain-- can still be stunned. He groans at the collective gunfire raining down on him from D.Va's pistol, and Nightwing laughs. Taking advantage of Deathstroke's brief disorientation, he breaks out of the armbar to pull a reversal, holding Deathstroke in side control. ]

Look what she's made you do, Slade. Monologuing about food!

Now I'm damn hungry and want this over with. Keep it coming, D.Va!

[ And that's when she descends upon Deathstroke with Nightwing's eskrima sticks, beating him while he's being held down by Nightwing's weight. In side control, Nightwing kneels as his arms embrace Deathstroke's neck in a chokehold, maintaining constant pressure with his chest and shoulders. His knees, meanwhile, remain bent against Deathstroke's armpit and side. It's while the two are in this state that D.Va steps in to take a few swings at the mercenary, careful despite her fury to miss Nightwing in the process.

But yes. Deathstroke wrenches an arm free to bat D.Va away with a palm strike from below, nearly breaking Nightwing's control in the process. He's brought down again by his opponent's weight, though, and watches as one of the eskrima sticks - charge turned on - is sent hurtling towards his helmeted face. Nightwing breaks away from side control to roll backwards just before Deathstroke's face catches the shock. D.Va's seen this thing carry a charge targeted at multiple attackers, discombobulating them all. So what happens when that same charge only targets one?

Deathstroke had reached to catch it, to see if he could intercept, but the stick misses his hand to fly directly into his face. The shock not only travels across his body, but shatters his helmet upon impact-- and Nightwing and D.Va get to enjoy the subsequent light show. A pained scream comes out of Deathstroke as he succumbs to a powerful electric blast-- the kind of thing that would kill an unenhanced human, if targeted alone.

But here, he falls unconscious, joining Croc as another body splayed motionless on the sand. ]

Seems we're taking in more prisoners than expected.

[ That's Nightwing still bleeding from the tricep as he stumbles towards D.Va, collecting his sticks along the way. He stops mere inches from her to clamp a hand on her shoulder, looking down at her in admiration. ]

You did good. More than good. I really needed you, and you came through.

[ He turns, though, to give Deathstroke and Killer Croc another look. ]

Before I rose to pick up the sword, I triggered a signal for reinforcements to arrive.

They're still en route, but we can leave it to them to take these two to the nearest drop zone.

So for now... we wait. Then I think it's back to HQ for us.

[ He had let go of D.Va's shoulder while speaking, however, to reach inside his gauntlet for a bandage to wrap around his wound. A placeholder for better equipment back in Arkham. ]

[ Hana made Deathstroke monologue! Hana made Deathstroke monologue! Hana made Deathstroke monologue!

That would be something that goes onto her resume when she isn't worried that either of them would get killed. It was frustrating that they were not able to enjoy their reunion, as selfish as it was to. They had worked hard to do good and of course, life had a way to try and wedge between that. The wedge this time was one annoying blast from Nightwing's past.

Hana didn't have sentimentality. Didn't have history. So when she acts, she's a bundle of frustration and anger. Protective, at the very least. He needed her, needed her to act and she can't just... freeze.

For her lack of education on the sticks, she could have killed him. Truthfully. It was a rage that lets her disregard much of the caution she'd take with a human enemy, instead taking out the frustrations on her next omnic threat.

The crackle of electricity brings her back to the moment, to their victory. Hana's in awe of Deathstroke being taken out with a somewhat precise toss – making her just... lose herself in the sight in front of her. It was a relief... it was another tally to their victories for the day. Hana gets a comm call near the tail end of it, when she stumbles to her feet... at least she knows Winston was good on his word – sending out the salvage team for Meka retrieval within an hour. ]

Nightwing – [ She could care less about the back-up, instead concern in her eyes for the gash on his tricep. He approaches her and her hand immediately goes to his – a brief moment of care there. ] Let's just get you taken care of. Your dumb trash talk almost had him turn you into sashimi.

[ She mad they both had to go 1 v 1 and look where it got them! But, even if she scolds him, he knows its from a good place. Pushing her own trauma and fear of letting her team down... letting him down aside. Masking it better than before with a small smile. ]

Drive-thru, then HQ.

[ Because yeah, burgers do sound good now. ]

[ The toss's lack of precision compared to say, if Dick did it was compensated for by the power of the stick's charge. The collision from the contact it still made with Deathstroke's head led to his undoing, which Hana's surely over the moon about. Dick stumbles as he attempts to walk across the sand towards more of the grassland surrounding the old Blackgate prison. His body right now's just very weak and in need of rest, and it's upon realizing this that he chuckles to himself. ]

I think this is the most I've busted my ass in a while.

[ He extends his arm in Hana's direction, implicitly inviting her to support him - slinging his arm over her shoulders - as they walk away from the vicinity. ]

We don't exactly have a ride right now.

But I can hail one.

[ During their briefings at the start of the evenign, Hana's seen Dick conjure a holographic readout from his gauntlet. As soon as it projects now, he triggers a command that summons the Batmobile, deploying it to head to the nearest curb to their coordinates. That much is made evident by the notifications on the screen, which Dick allows to linger for Hana to read. ]

Programmed this for quick escapes.

[ He has a secret route to Arkham that makes use of old tunnels under the city. But that's not necessarily something he needs to explain till after food. ]

There's a Denny's in Gotham's outskirts, towards Burnside. One of the few remaining that hasn't been demolished by the Magistrate.

Any objections?

[ In this Future State™ of omnics and fancy technology, Denny's has innovated on its past business model by having drive-thrus. ]

Got a nice table in the HQ to set our food. You might like the place.

[ And not just because of the PS6 he remembers to be sitting there.

Before long, the Batmobile does arrive. A holdover from the days when Dick served as Batman with Damian as his Robin, the craft is also capable of flight. It's not something Dick's willing to take to too many missions given the number of the Magistrate's forces patrolling the streets. It eventually made more sense to keep it around as a getaway car. Tonight, though, the insurgency's efforts should have put the Magistrate's forces in enough disarray.

So when Dick and Hana arrive at the curb in front of the old Blackgate Prison, the car's already waiting for them. Its trajectory wasn't interrupted by the meddlings of any Magistrate loyalist, as few were now around to even police the streets. The Batmobile's cockpit then opens for access, allowing Dick to parkour into it and take the driver's seat. ]

Setting directions for the nearest Denny's. You should look up what you want already.

For all your help tonight... it's on me.

[ The hope is that once Meka was fished from the water, the team would transport it back to base. Make sure it was ready for her to get back and work on. She's made so many changes to the machine that she feels like it hasn't reached its potential. Go back to OG... try new things – the possibility was endless! Without having to worry about all the PR behind the Meka squad, to be a real hero and not just a celebrity – things are able to be worked on freely. Even now, she's thinking of how to improve.

But... her attention now was on Nightwing. By the time he comes to her, she tries to keep him standing tall. Standing proud. He should be. It was a busy time tonight. ]

Oh, I thought we would just Uber. [ Half kidding, she braces him towards their coordinate, a relief at least that both of their respective networks were moving things along and wrapping up the mess they had to deal with. ] No objections, none at all.

[ They were on the downside now, their senses finally coming to and the adrenaline rushing off. They were both like wet rats at this point, but they were hungry heroes? Sometimes you gotta get a burger before drying off. It sounds like it'll slap almost as good as a ham & cheese sandwich after swimming in the pool all day.

When the Batmobile arrives, she's left marveling at it. It was still fancy, even if it feels a bit 'outdated' with current trends. Sorry, technosnob over here. ]

Whoooa. This looks like it costs millions more than the D.Vacycle! [ Her short-lived time on a bike was not without her own ribbing – especially considering how much she crashed it before putting it away in storage.

By the time they're settled in, she crawls in with an oof, head tilted back into the headrest and just letting her eyes shut tightly for a few moments. ] Oh, my hero! I already know. A bacon cheeseburger.... no pickles. Simple enough, right?

[ But, she recalls something else – a mention of his place. He was taking her back there until she scheduled a pick-up... Winston knows she's in good hands, at least. ]

Is it like your last place?

[ That was open-ended but she snickers and peers one eye open to glance at him. ]

I could barely get a Wi-Fi signal there.

[ Uber. He chuckles at that, reminded that other places in the world still have ridesharing. Gotham has not been a zone for much of what the rest of the world still enjoys, warts and all. ]

Speaking of transportation, don't worry about your Meka.

Thanks to Winston, my guys should be in communication with yours. As soon as people take it out of the water, Clayface is carrying it towards transport to South Korea.

[ Dick appraises his battle-damaged Nightwing suit, now bearing many nicks and gashes exposing the advanced polymers that constitute its defenses. Stuff Slade was able to tear through like paper with his equipment, that the likes of Electrocutioner and Orca could barely manage a dent on. Didn't stop Killer Croc from doing damage to the man beneath the armor, but Slade came closer to killing him than any assailant tonight.

In the grand scheme of things? No surprise there.

As Hana appraises the Batmobile, Dick continues appraising all the damage his suit has sustained over the past evening. He's kind of not over it, really. ]

Thing's definitely worth a pretty penny. Maybe more now that it's vintage.

[ Dick hoped to dry himself a little more before hopping in. But once inside, he starts the ignition and begins steering the Batmobile out of Blackgate's vicinity. Looking at his sleeves and gauntlets briefly while turning the steering wheel, the damage becomes all the more salient. ]

This sucks. Suits like these aren't cheap either... but at least I've got spares.

[ He's lucky he's had a life free from want, thanks to Bruce. And with yet more thanks to Bruce, he hasn't lived a life free from responsibility. The assets poured into the construction of the Nightwing suit and its corresponding gadgetry are a testament to what Dick will sacrifice to save this city. In its current state, the Nightwing suit can be washed and repaired, but now Dick only plans to wear it to patrols and covert missions that don't demand high-stakes confrontations. He has fresher costumes for those. ]

Gonna nab one of their grand slams. Nothing like an "early breakfast" at 2AM, am I right?

[ Wouldn't be the first time he's stopped by places during all-nighters. That's almost customary, really, given how much calories he and other Bat-people expend fighting crime. Sure saved Alfred the trouble of preparing meals all the time!

As he makes a right on red towards a main street, Dick hears Hana ask him about his pad. ]

From back in New York?

That was more of a bunker to me. And far from my only one.

[ Sorry, Hana. Back then, he was far too on-the-go to care about the wifi. His HQ in the Cloisters museum was where he allocated all his wifi needs, and in all the time they spent together, Hana never got a proper tour. But that (forgive the museum pun) is history. ]

I promise there's functional wifi this time. Kinda need it to maintain communications.

But more importantly, I need my PS6 to stay connected.

[ It's more of a sideline pet project of his to reacquaint himself with gaming, okay? He knows he'll never catch up to Hana or, say, Tim. ]

[ For all that she had to deal with tonight, for the first time – she feels... happy. Of course, there's guilt. Dick got hurt and Meka was being recovered to be worked on aaaaaaaggggaiiiinnnn, but she's trying to look at the silver linings. She's thinking about the city, how he will hopefully have a night to rest. Every so often, she'll gaze at him, as if trying to pinpoint if he's pained – if he's suffering. Bit by bit, D.Va was taking a backseat and Hana was showing more without the guise of that gamer superstar. ]

Better than losing an arm completely, right? Suits can be replaced and – uh... okay, I guess arms can be too, but –

[ Her point being, she tries to at least give him a comforting silver lining and is left laughing at her realization. This was the first time since they started that she could breathe, and even through the turns of the swaggy-mobile, she's nearly rocked right to sleep. ]

It'll be nice getting something to eat with someone again. [ Even with her squad, D.Va needed to be on call a lot – so it was usually bunnyhopping through downtown with takeout. ] And – yes!! You paid and you were on like .5G!

[ She's laughing again. Her cheeks hurt from how big she was grinning. He did this to her. After the bricks began to come down, the wall between them not as high as they thought – was she allowing herself to not worry about the call of Overwatch, of her government, and just – ugh, grab a bite to eat? ]

When was the last time you even logged on? Or are you using it to impress pretty gamer girls?

[ A streak of jealousy is there, but she's teasing. ]

[ Hana's not the only one who can put up a good front. Dick can manage a more convincing one under better circumstances, though. Right now, he can't help but wince every so often that he moves his wounded arm a certain way, Slade having cut deep. While he has better first aid equipment back in Arkham, he's going to have to manage with what he's got equipped. Fortunately, the prospect of a Denny's drive-thru makes any amount of pain worth it. And by far, Dick has taken a lot worse. ]

Regardless, I'm planning to keep mine for as long as possible.

[ He also wouldn't wish upon himself what was once a curse for Victor, a.k.a. Cyborg. Fortunately, the advancement of technology and the rising abundance of prosthetics for many, including some among Overwatch and its associates, have ameliorated any residual angst from Cyborg's early stint with the Titans. Dick himself would welcome the idea if he sustained any injuries, but he's not counting on it happening. Though important, the necessary learning curve might take time away from the mission. ]

Despite masterminding this shadowy uprising, I've actually had most of my meals alone.

[ For the past few years, he neglects to say. ]

This will be a nice change. You'll find yourself saying the same for the wifi.

[ And before long, they're finally in the drive-thru, waiting for the vehicles in front of them to make their orders and receive them further down the lane. It's then that Hana starts asking him about gaming: a subject that, woefully, he could be more acquainted with. ]

Honestly, I don't remember.

But if you consider that my M.O., then I guess you'd be the first.

[ So he teases back. He's not so much worried about any hint of jealousy, but he sure is willing to attempt to fluster her if he can help it. ]

Good. Not saying a blue metal arm wouldn't be pretty badass but – you're pretty good the way you are.

[ There were a lot of debates, hot takes, and conspiracy theories about those who went to cybernetics – that graft bone and flesh into metal. Hana, fortunately, has not felt the need or desire to. It wasn't... a fashion accessory and while it can return some to their 'old selves' after injury? Maybe she's lucky it hasn't gotten that far in her recklessness. Same with him.

Her head tilts to him a bit when discusses the meals. She wants to say something, but opts not too – instead nodding in agreement for the time being. A small laugh here and there, she goes from chatty to musing – until, of course, they were in the drive-thru with more swag than they know what to do with. ]

I don't even know what your M.O. could be nowadays! And – and – [ He got her shield down with the mention of her being the first. She shakes her head and tries to play it off, wagging her finger at him with a scold. ] Careful, we did our best to keep things professional before... what if the Denny's worker gets wind that Nightwing and D.Va really were something than a fandom ship, huh? Huh?

[ Yeah, there's no doubt there's healthy fic out there... :/ ]

More like black with blue highlights, if I had a say in it.

[ Now he's just being facetious about it, but he knows that it's only in some parts of the world that prosthetics of the caliber he's thinking of can be a luxury. The fact it's even an option for him is nothing he plans to take for granted, let alone trivialize as some kind of accessory.

But this isn't urgent enough to occupy his attention entirely. Not with food on the mind, and the Denny's guy behind the drive thru window willing to take their order. Dick takes a brief moment to disengage from the conversation with Hana, all to order what they'd previously discussed on the way here. With it done, he hits the gas pedal to proceed towards the subsequent window, where he can expect to be handed their to-go order. ]

So, about us. That guy didn't seem so suspicious of any "juicy tension" back there. Must've been a long night for everybody.

[ Surprisingly, there are fics out in the world of D.Va x Nightwing and D.Va x Dick Grayson, with people never making a connection between the two. Who would assume that the daring, assertive, and confrontational Nightwing - leader of the Titans - was anything like Dick Grayson, notorious cereal lover and giver of hugs to his many adopted siblings?

Dick finds the tabloids have been kinder to him than to Tim, at least. And he's not gonna pretend he hasn't looked up what people have been writing about him and Hana... at least until the world forgot and moved on to hotter topics. The tabloids had a field day juxtaposing these two's very supposed obsessions with doritos and cereal. No one could predict, then, that they'd be getting their unhealthy fix from a Denny's instead. ]

Taking the secret path back to base, now.

ETA five minutes, and thank god for that. We've been through a lot, but cold Denny's would just be the worst.

[ Having never been so fussy, doesn't mean that-- and it shows in his amused smile. He just keeps hoping to entertain Hana, not fully realizing just how much her approval matters to him. ]

[ Food was a necessity. It was fuel. It keeps them going, even when the night was beginning to drag on towards morning bit by bit. Hana can smell how good everything was – and feel the heat of the bag against her ankles as she plays bodyguard to their meal. ]

Oh? Is that what it is? Sure it's not the burger?

[ She plays it coy, plays it calm. Maybe she leans forward a bit to open the bag as if trying to peek into it – and maybe steal a fry or two. He can either stop her or let her get away with potato murder. ]

You're right in the middle of the action now! Driving distance from a Denny's... and hopefully a good view?

[ She almost asks if he had roommates, toying with the idea – maybe one of his friends being up to pull double duty for patrols. ]

On a scale of 1 to 10, how likely is it that I'm going to have to help you eat with that arm?

[ It's her round-about way of asking if he was okay... even as they approach to 'sanctuary', she gives him a concerned glance. ]

[ What Hana's smelling is her burger, as well as the collective aroma of Dick's grand slam slugger. That's going to be haunting them both for the duration of the ride, but fortunately, the roads are deserted enough that Dick can disobey traffic laws to make efficient progress. ]

We can call it whatever we want while we're still talking through it.

[ He doesn't seem any less relaxed, but where she plays it coy, he lays it on pretty thick. The air between them isn't just the intoxicating smell of Denny's food, but the weight of much that remains unsaid. Stuff between them that's aching for expression, for release, made all the more salient by what they've been through on this night.

But then they're interrupted by a fall. Later, darkness. The Batmobile plummeted into a canal, accelerating across its length before finding a cavernous tunnel exit-- what one would dismiss as an entrance to the sewers. But at the press of a button on Dick's dashboard, an entrance opens up in the distant darkness of the tunnel, on what will be a wall to the Batmobile's left. This entrance is shown to be outlined by neon blue lights: something evocative, somewhat, of the Nightwing suit. ]

Excuse the turbulence.

[ Dick takes a sharp turn and the Batmobile stays on the course, the entrance and its lights closing behind them. With the exception of the Batmobile's headlights, they traverse complete darkness. ]

Arkham never offered many scenic views from the start. I work from a sublevel well below the first floor, and that requires clearance I only share with the other operatives.

We're rarely in the same place at the same time, though, unless for certain missions. Harder to catch all of us that way.

[ He can also kind of tell what she's implicitly attempting to ascertain. Hana is speaking to a detective.

But by the time she asks her last question, the one about the status of Dick's arm, the Batmobile finds light. A garage in one of Arkham's sublevels, decked out with other vehicles that are presumably at Dick's disposal. After he parks it, the Batmobile's cockpit opens, allowing its passengers to disembark. Dick himself vaults out of it (using his functional arm when doing so), less to show off and more because it's second nature.

After landing outside of the vehicle, though, he turns around to reach into the car snatch the bag of takeout from Denny's. ]

Follow me. My "pad" is actually several more levels down, but there's the elevator.

[ He points at it on the other side of the garage, and starts towards it. ]

As for my arm, I'd say 11. Can't raise this thing without it hurting, and that won't change once I apply better first aid.

[ It didn't just sustain a cut, after all. Like other parts of him, Dick is stomaching many aches and pains from bruises administered by Deathstroke and the rest. ]

[ They didn't have a single cop daring to pull them over. No sirens, no lights. Just the temptation that was Denny's best food off the menu. They earned the ability to hyperload on carbs. ]

That's a discussion for when we're both not starving and you're patched up. Promise.

[ It wasn't a deflection, it was responsibility. Had she less restraint, she would have given his thigh a pat, nudge his good arm, or even just touch him in any capacity. There were things left unsaid, but Hana can get impulsive too when she trusts someone.

She abandons her attempt to sneak fries, but... it was worth it. With the view outlaid so clearly, Hana was in awe. This was definitely an upgrade and her jaw drops a little in some form of being impressed. Maybe it wasn't the fanciest. The Meka Squad's HQ was government funded, but that was so long ago... This was... still taking some getting use to.

By the time they park and it's getting closer and closer to grubtime... Hana's question falls at the right time. Where she instead hops out and takes the bag away from him as if he was some damsel. It swings between her fingers, dangling up with a smile. ]

Then I guess I'm playing Mercy's assistant. You have pride, yes, but... it's my promise to help you out. That carried on from the rooftop to your "pad". Don't fight me – you will lose!

[ Maybe it'd be a different story in Bludhaven. Naming police corruption in Gotham was like saying water's wet, but Bludhaven boasts a whole different story. Which is to say police might've been more willing to throw down with the Magistrate if their conquest began there. A fleeting memory of such considerations occurred to Dick while he was driving Hana through Gotham's streets, its overall silence and emptiness a monument to the Magistrate's grip on the city. ]

Pinky promise?

[ Not that Dick offers a pinky to promise with. It's the last facetious thing he says in response to broaching their responsibility to each other. Because if they're both going to help this city get better, they also have to help themselves. Get their heads straight, and become exactly the team that this city needs to rout the Magistrate's forces. ]

I think I learned my lesson, so don't worry. I'm not against you looking out for me in the least.

Besides, I'll need you to point the healing beam at me later.

[ He's sure she'll understand what he's implying. Mercy's caduceus staff is proprietary, but Winston gifted Dick a less effective prototype a long time ago. Something that can't heal as efficiently as Mercy's device, but that doesn't it mean it fails to heal at all. ]

But I'm more hungry than in need of healing.

[ And he'd hate to repeatedly cry out "I need healing!" at Hana. At least not without Angela present to punch him for it. ]

So here we are. My "pad."

[ There are some tables past the wall beside Dick's terminal, but no chairs. From the ad-hoc, ramshackle state of things, he and Hana are gonna have to settle for standing while eating. So Dick proceeds to the edge of one of the tables, where he sets down the bag of takeout. From there, he removes both boxes and leaves Hana's on the other side of the table. But then... he pulls it back. Places it beside his own box, as if in expectation of Hana coming to stand beside him.

Silently, then, he opens his. He takes the plastic utensils provided and begins cutting one of the eggs. ]

This'll sound sad as hell. But if it weren't for you showing up, this would be the highlight of my evening.

[ Hana will find him smiling, though, with a self-deprecating sort of amusement at his own words. ]

Ehhh, pinky promise is a big commitment!

[ She toys with him that much, but he knows what she means. Can count on her words and admittance to be honesty. Hana's concern had been as close as it could be without saying as much and pleading with him to take it easy. There's some trust there, the kind that was honest with her own feelings and having faith in him to continue doing what he does best: survive.

Wrong girl, but the sentiment was there. If Mercy wasn't on call in some weird Europe countryside... she'd already be dialed in and on her way by now. Hunger was the name of the game and she doesn't spam anything to insist they hurry up. She's a good girl! Hana's letting her eyes gaze around, noting the small intriciacies she can, pinpoint any decor that may be familiar. It was all new and by the time he sets his food now – she is hovering right next to him. ]

Oh, this one's mine?! [ Don't mind if she does, she flips the container open and immediately pulls her gloves off to snatch up a few fries. ] Mmmph, so worth it. Saving the world has its perks...

[ When he mentions the highlight of his evening, she chews a bit slower. More thoughtfully, and she gives him a bump with her hip. ]

I'd be 2 Nano Cola Blitz in and probably downloading cup ramen... so you're not alone, you know? I'm here now, so...

[ Take this fry as an offering? She nearly wags it against his face from how she tries to lighten the mood... to give them a sense of normalcy. ]

So...

[ Dick looks on at Hana with something of a wistful grin. One of understanding. He'd been so hyper-focused on just getting here, and parking, and properly situating his and Hana's food... that he'd distracted himself long enough from the pain. But it resurfaces here, as he relaxes now to begin eating his food. He relaxes just enough for his body to remind him of the aches, of the first aid that barely sustains his wounded arm. Yet brazenly, perhaps, he's hungrier than he feels he's in need of the prototype caduceus staff.

He also knows Hana's hungry, too. But here she is, offering him a French fry. He relinquishes his hand - the one belonging to his injured arm - from the table, and with his other hand lets go of the utensil still cutting the egg. Instead, he reaches - his own gloves off too - to snatch the fry on offer. ]

Thanks. Can't remember the last time I even had French fries.

[ And so he chows down on that, before proceeding to cut the egg into pieces, a single hand using a knife. He trades that for a fork to consume the egg piece by piece, noticeably transfixed in the act of manipulating his food. It's almost like he feels... awkward, around Hana, to be eating like this. Because he doesn't seem ready to look at her till she's ready to offer another piece - whether from his to-go box or her own. ]

Actually, I do.

From, y'know. Before you and I-- well. Before things changed.

[ Now he manages a furtive glance at her, having swallowed the last of the egg. There's still more left of the grand slam slugger, though. ]

Things were... good, before. Y'know? There's a lot from back then that I don't regret.

[ Defensively, she opens her mouth as if to challenge him. To ask if he had something to say. The girl, at the root of it, could be fairly competitive but this was far from a game of cat and mouse. She instead doesn't comment, instead shaking her head with a coy look of her own. It was a nice moment before reality sets in. That they were both seeing better days – but it didn't stop them from enjoying something as simple as a French fry. ]

I haven't had plain ones in a while. We have some killer kimchi fries from some corner stand near the piers! The owner lets us stop by late if we call ahead – but... these are not so bad.

[ However, even among Hana rambling about the difference in potatoes, she stops short of picking up her burger and chowing down. He was definitely using one hand and instead, she picks up and unwraps her plastic cutlery. An accusing point of her fork, she deflects hard. ]

I regret letting you think you can get away with doing things alone. [ Bold, sure, but maybe it was what he needed to hear. They both had their own skeletons that filled their closet. ] Even now. Here...

[ The sausage links were left alone, but she cuts into the bacon to half it and hold it up towards his face. She didn't infantize him – it wasn't that, ever. He was older than her, had a lot of history but... ]

They don't have to just be good in the past. The world is trying to heal and people like us are trying to speed things along. [ If he doesn't take her offering of his bacon, he'd hear her speak in her native tongue: ] Eat.

Sounds like a place to visit some other time.

[ She'd nudged him with her hip, so he nudges her with his elbow. ]

If you're willing to stick around a little longer.

[ Then he watches her point the fork at him, looking down at it with an amused grin. His expression here represents his own deflection, like he can maintain something of a light and casual demeanor despite the severity of all that they'd survived this past evening-- despite the severity he carried so readily in the way he comported himself when Hana first arrived. It's like he wants to take it all back, a part of him not ready to embrace the here and now... even as another part of him already does. ]

Well, relearning how to be a team player won't just help me. It'll help everyone in this insurgency.

So you won't hear an argument from me.

[ Though saying such words indicate his presence of mind, he's momentarily distracted by his own thoughts. The bacon is left hovering in front of him until Hana bids him to eat, and it's only then that he takes the offer, catching it with his mouth. It's after chewing and swallowing the piece that he continues, ]

It's a very daunting tug o' war. For every effort of ours to expedite the healing, there are those like the Magistrate keen on inflicting more wounds. The whole conflict is just so cyclical, and yet it worsens by the day.

[ By speaking, though, Dick leads himself to realize something. ]

Then again, that was always the same dilemma. Even before.

The threats we dealt with back then seemed endless. Impossible. But we never gave up.

I think I needed this, Hana. Needed you. The fire in me was fading, but you've reignited it.

So I'm getting back up, alright? And I'm gonna be the leader this insurgency needs to put a stop to the Magistrate. Just watch.

[ Yet for all the seriousness of his words, here, he looks down at his to-go box. ]

Uh, another bacon though, please.

Maybe. If this burger is any good, I'll definitely be more willing for this. For sticking around.

[ Hana smirks with a confidence on her, knowing that even if they had once been tense and almost at odds with one another... they both wanted the same thing deep down. Maybe Hana was a little bit more of a Gen Z, finding time to hyperfocus on video games and having to balance a social life akin to a celebrity once upon a time – but they really did want to make a difference.

And that was the foundation of why brings them together. A small gesture like this – where Hana sacrifices her own meal to cut up bacon and feed it to him. His words were staggered between bites, laid out like a plan he devises confidently... ]

They won't stop. You know that. We could have thousands of people in our radar wanting to make the world better, but – something would always cause conflict. Peace, even for a little while, is still worth fighting for.

[ She agrees with him too, and by the time he mentions needing her and the fires that were more like an ember dulled by coal... she pokes and prods at his meal thoughtfully, getting lost in his words even now.

It wasn't until he asked for bacon again that she snaps her mind away and doubles up – two strips crispy and prodded by her fork. Offering it with a tilt of her head and a small smile. ]

I will. Watch you, I mean. And don't be hesitant to call me directly... instead of going through Winston.

[ Even after a shared kiss, even after their pleas were so clear – they dance on a tightrope again over a subject. She smiles softly, enough understanding in her eyes. ]

Buuuuuttt.... if you do, you can't keep getting hurt. Never got around to finishing Meka's medical training.

[ It was a half-assed ultimatum, masking her own concern for him. ]

Hope your stay in Gotham doesn’t really rest on the quality of the Denny’s menu.

[ It’s with that that he continues accepting Hana’s help, letting her take further command of the food, as she feeds him when she’s not taking her own bites from her burger. To Dick, it’s actually quite... difficult, right now. Difficult to fathom. How often has he spent time, even before this period of crisis, just leading people? Watching over them and managing so many different variables, without ever really stopping to take care of himself? He’s been known to push it too far, expect too much of himself. He can remember how volatile he used to be when he was still Robin, leading the Teen Titans in a very strict and disciplined way.

That hardly changed as he became Nightwing, and he’s always been grateful for the respect he earned. Respect that he’s certain he deserves. But for all the respect Dick commands from other superheroes... does he really respect himself?

That’s too much to think about while eating Denny’s. ]

You’re right. If only one life is saved, every sacrifice we’ve made is still worth it.

We’re changing the world whether we want to or not. Everyone is, in their own way. So let’s make the right damn choices.

[ He stops speaking to accept another piece of bacon. Then some hashbrown clumps collected on the same fork. Hana, during this time, bids him not to go to Winston first. And given how things have gone between them, the connection they’ve managed to restore over the pretext of a mission, Dick accepts her plea. ]

Don’t you mean Overwatch me?

[ He braces himself for certain destruction. ]

Nah, I get it. No Winston. He was never a good wingman, anyway.

As for medical training, you won’t need much. Winston gifted me a prototype of Mercy’s Caduceus Staff.

Nothing as fancy as the one she actually uses. But it should do the trick of mending my wound.

Now, we both kinda stink. I think I’m due for a shower after this... if you are.

Beforehand, I’ll show you where I keep my staff.

[ The accidental innuendo just then? Definitely crosses his mind. ]

[ She plays coy, teasing the thought of her only reason being a good burger. He knows she's just being her usual smug and carefree self. Sure – she has to force aspects of that sometimes... but when she feels comfortable, feels safe? She can still be the girl people expected her to be. It makes her forget about things weighing her down.

Had they maybe had some candlelight dinner in a fancy restaurant or even grabbed some boba before going on a mission... the conversation would feel easier. It would almost feel romantic with her concern lingering over like water boiling in a pot. Even as she feeds him now, she still listens and carefully with her free hand snags a few more fries of her own. ]

Uh huh. It's – shut up! [ He'd feel her palm press into his cheek and pushes him away, whether he was downing hashbrowns of contending with waiting for Hana to find it suitable to feed him. Over half his plate was done, a few bits of pancakes chopped into but the syrup was really messy, so she doesn't go there. ] So, you have mercy and you still think you can get away with horrible, bad, bad puns like that.

[ Hana abandons him! A few bites of her own burger finally, letting Meka's leader eat last like it was back home. He gets to see her cheeks puffed out and her face scrunch up at the innuendo, at the offer of a shower. Wiping away at her mouth, she takes a step back and sets her food down, dusting her hands off on her suit without a second thought. ]

Soooo, do you always call your exes stinky? [ A sharp, pointed glare give but – ] Right, right, your tour. Show me!

[ Sure, her mind lingers to what he may have meant. Part of her was a little... curious on what awaited them. Despite how they play nice right now, Hana felt like she did when she first met Dick – hanging on his words, starry-eyed and confident of the future. Maybe that was what she needed now... more reason to look forward to living. ]

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ignoring this mfing monkey......

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