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The video showed a brown skinned girl in large square glasses talking and pointing to a homemade Gotham Rogues Tier List. Next to her, moonlight shone through a glass door leading to an outdoor patio. “Poison Ivy. S tier, obviously. Is this even a quest—”
“Wait, Bridgett,” the girl behind the camera interrupted as a black and blue figure moved across the night sky. “I think Nightwing just landed on the building across from us.”
“What!?” Bridgett immediately rushed out onto the patio, the camera following behind her. “Holy shit, you’re right!” she squealed at the camera.
Both of them immediately started waving and shouting. “Hi, Nightwing!”
“We love you!”
Nightwing turned toward the girls, smiled, and waved back. “Hello! Thank you!”
Bridgett looked back at the camera with her hands over her mouth. “Holy shit, holy shit he just waved at us.”
The video shook from the other girl’s excitement. “I think I can die happy now, oh my god.”
“Wait! Wait.” Bridgett paused to look at the other girl. “Addy. Should we ask him?”
Addy breathed in sharply. “You think he’d go for it?”
Without replying, Bridgett turned around and shouted, “Hey, Nightwing! Can we ask you a question for our YouTube channel?”
Nightwing tapped his ear for a second, talking inaudibly to someone, before shooting a grapple over to their building, and landing on the patio in front of them with a showy flip. “Anything for my fans,” he said with a grin.
“Thank you!” they squealed in unison.
“Okay, okay okay. Wait! I gotta grab my microphone.” Bridgett rushed back into the house and returned with a handheld mic. It was a cardboard paper towel tube painted black, with a round piece of foam glued on top. On the front was a small paper sign that said “Channel 69 News” in marker. Nightwing visibly held in a laugh when he saw it. “Okay I’m ready. Are you ready?” She asked Nightwing. He nodded.
“Hello, and welcome to Channel 69 News. We’re conducting a short survey with the local vigilantes. Sir, will you please state your hero name for everyone?” She held out the microphone.
Nightwing played along, leaning over to talk into it. “Nightwing.”
“Thank you, Nightwing.” She fidgeted awkwardly for a second.
“Was that your question?” he raised an eyebrow playfully.
“No. I mean it was a question but not the question.” She giggled nervously.
His face softened a bit. “Go ahead and ask. I don’t bite.”
“Right. Um. So you know the Wayne family?” She put the fake microphone up to his face.
He looked over the patio wall to the very visible Wayne Tower in the background of the shot before returning eye contact. “I’ve heard the name once or twice.”
She giggled nervously again. “Right right, just had to check, just in case, you know, um...anyway! Do you think Bruce Wayne is handsome?” She tilted the microphone back over.
Nightwing looked taken aback for a second before laughing. “That’s your question?” When she nodded he replied into the microphone “I think he’s classically handsome, but not my type.”
“Oh.” Bridgett seemed surprised by that.
“What about Richie?” asked Addy from behind the camera.
His face twitched like he was holding back a smile. “Very handsome. Great fashion sense. But again, not my type.”
Bridgett hummed in contemplation. “So Jason is probably out too. Cassandra then?”
“Wait, why is Jason out?” interjected Addy.
“They both have dark hair and blue eyes.”
“I thought his eyes were green.”
Bridgett paused. “I think it changes depending on the picture and what he’s wearing.”
“Okay but still. Why is Jason out? He and Richie have completely different body types.”
Nightwing, who had been looking back and forth at them like a tennis match, added, “I do admire his thighs, but he’s also not my type.”
“Hah! Told ya.”
Addy grumbled a bit behind the camera. “Wait, are you straight? Is that the problem? Do you like Cassandra?”
“I have a lot of problems, but straightness isn’t one of them.”
Addy snorted.
Bridgett seemed stumped for a bit. “So what is your type?” she finally asked.
“Now that would be telling,” he replied with a wink.
“It’s redheads,” a mechanized voice said to the right of the group. Both girls jumped a bit as the camera panned over to reveal the Red Hood crouching on the edge of the patio wall.
“Shit,” said Addy. She stepped back a bit as Bridgett hid behind Nightwing.
Nightwing, however, made a loud offended noise. “You’re ruining the mystery!”
“Or anyone who can beat him up, really,” Hood continued casually, resting his chin on his fist.
Nightwing dramatically put the back of his hand to his forehead. “I’m being called out. This is offensive. I’m offended.”
“Just calling it like I see it, ‘Wing. What’cha doin’?” he asked, jerking his chin to the two teenagers.
“Oh!” Nightwing perked up and turned to the girl behind him. “Bridgett,” he gave his patented 1000 megawatt smile. “You should interview him next.” At her unsure look, he added, “It’s safe, I promise.”
“I don’t hurt kids,” Hood said, speaking more gently at the two than he had been at Nightwing. When they still seemed a little unsure, he let out a little sigh and took off his helmet, revealing a surprisingly young and handsome face behind a red domino mask as he placed the helmet next to him on the wall. He smiled reassuringly at them. “See? Just a regular ol’ human,” he said, his voice a gruff baritone without the modulator.
With one last reassuring nod from Nightwing, Bridgett hesitantly walked over and spoke into her fake microphone. “W-we’re conducting a short survey with the Gotham vigilantes—”
“Yeah?” Hood encouraged as Bridgett cut off from nervousness.
“Yeah. Nightwing was the first.”
“Me?” he put a hand to his heart. “I’m honored.”
Bridgett gave him a small smile before visibly gathering her courage. “P-Please state your h-hero name.” She pointed the microphone to Red Hood, hand shaking.
Hood snorted a bit at the word ‘hero’ but played along like Nightwing by leaning his head over to speak into the fake microphone. “The Red Hood.”
She made a small noise of distress and looked back over to Nightwing. He gave her thumbs up. Swallowing, she turned back to the other man and forced out, “Do you think Bruce Wayne is handsome?” before shoving the microphone back into Hood’s face.
Hood choked in surprise, almost tipping backwards off the wall before righting himself to land on the patio proper. Nightwing erupted into giggles even as Bridgett shrank back in fear again. “’Wing, you asshole!” Hood shouted, straightening himself to full height.
Bridgett winced at the sudden venom. Hood immediately relaxed into a more non-threatening stance.
“C’mon Hood, be a good sport and answer the question,” Nightwing taunted.
“I’m gonna shoot out your kneecaps,” Hood replied, but without much heat to it.
Nightwing scoffed. “First of all, GCPD got there first, second of all, you stalked me here, so answer the question.”
“I did not stalk you!”
“Really? That’s funny, this doesn’t look like Crime Alley to me.”
“It ain’t Bludhaven either, what’s your excuse?”
Bridgett, who had been making more and more confused eye contact with Addy the longer the argument went on, interrupted. “Could-could you please answer the question?”
Both heroes snapped out of their argument, looking like they’d forgotten about the other two. Nightwing turned away, embarrassed.
Hood rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. After huffing a contemplative breath, he looked between Nightwing, Bridgett, and the camera before taking deliberately soft, slow steps over to the others.
To their credit, neither Bridgett nor Addy stepped back in fear this time.
Now with a small, mischievous smile on his face, Hood put his mouth to the fake microphone. “Bruce Wayne is a crusty old man. And you can quote me on that.” He leaned back, satisfied.
Nightwing widened his eyes in shock for a beat before laughing into his hand. “Careful Hood, don’t want to get sued by Wayne Enterprises.”
Hood leaned back over the microphone “Fuckin’ try.” Both vigilantes cracked up at that.
“Do...do you guys know Bruce Wayne?” Bridgett asked haltingly, glancing between the two of them.
“Never met the guy,” Nightwing said with a completely straight face.
“Does anyone truly know Bruce Wayne?” Hood pondered. “Does anyone truly know anyone? Or are we just reflections of who others perceive us to be?”
Nightwing hummed thoughtfully.
Bridgett’s mouth opened slightly but nothing came out.
After a few beats of silence, Addy asked “What about Richie?”
“What about him?” Hood asked.
“Do you think he’s handsome?”
Hood looked at Nightwing, who was suddenly sporting a wide grin. “Yeah Hood, is Richie handsome?”
Not breaking eye contact, he said, “No. He’s an idiot.”
Nightwing huffed out a laugh. “Tell us how you really feel, Hood.”
“And what’s wrong with a good himbo?” Addy asked defensively.
Hood put his hands up. “Nothing. Like what you like, I just appreciate my partners with more than three braincells to rub together.”
“Oh really?” asked Nightwing innocently. “Is that why you had a crush on him when you were thirteen?”
There’s a surprised pause and then, “You shut the fuck up, I did not!”
“Mmhmm sure.”
“That was hero worship and you know it. And that went down the drain the second I met him.”
Nightwing winced almost imperceptibly before the teasing grin returned to his face. “There’s no shame in it, Little Wing, he’s a handsome guy,” he said, shrugging good-naturedly. “It was cute. At any rate,” he continued when Hood opened his mouth to argue more, “you have much better taste now.”
“Damn straight.”
Nightwing snorted. “Straight.”
“Soooo…” Bridgett interrupted again. “What about Jason Wayne?”
“Pretty sure he goes by Jason Todd-Wayne,” Nightwing said casually.
“Jason Todd-Wayne then,” replied Bridgett.
“Extremely handsome,” Hood answered.
“Would you date him?”
“In a heartbeat,” Hood said. He looked directly into the camera. “If you see this Jason, call me.”
He winked.
Nightwing rolled his eyes. “Don’t waste your time Mr. Todd-Wayne. He’s joking.”
Hood gave Nightwing an offended look. “You cockblock, of course I’m not joking. Have you seen the man?”
Nightwing waved him off. “Of course I have, but he’s not your type.”
“What is his type?” Addy asked conspiratorially.
Nightwing put a finger to his chin for a moment in mock-contemplation. “Funny you should ask, it’s also redheads who could beat him up.”
Hood squawked in offense. “No it’s not!”
“Oh, so it wasn’t Kori I caught you making out with three weeks ago?”
“Well—” Hood deflated a bit. “Okay, but that’s Kori.”
“Oh, and Arsenal was just a fluke then?”
“Now hang on a second—”
“Kori? Like Starfire Kori?” Bridgett said.
“Didn’t you two used to date?” Addy asked Nightwing before either could answer.
“Yes. Yes we did. And I was friends with Arsenal first, too,” Nightwing added with a pointed look at Red Hood. “First my colors, then my friends...is anything of yours original, Red Hood?” he asked with a mocking tilt to his head.
Hood clenched his fists. “Finders keepers, bitch. Not my fault you fucked off to Blüdhaven and left them alone.”
“Oh, that’s rich, Mister ‘I Never Come to Sunday dinner because Crime Alley Needs Me.’”
“It does!”
“And so does ‘Haven, but I still manage the drive.”
“Can I uh—can I ask about Cassandra Wayne now?” Bridgett cut in again, clearly desperate to de-escalate the fight.
Instantly switching tones, Hood replied “Cassandra Wayne is perfect in every way and no mortal man could hope to deserve her,” without missing a beat.
Nightwing nodded. “It’s true. It’s why I don’t have a crush. There’s no point.”
“Wait, Sunday dinners?” Addy asked. “Are you two related?”
Both heroes made eye contact with each other before looking back at her and saying in tandem, “Biologically, legally, or emotionally?”
Bridgett’s eyes grew wide.
“Uhh...all of them?” Addy replied.
“No, no, yes,” said Nightwing.
“No, yes, sometimes,” said Hood simultaneously.
“Wait, sometimes?” Nightwing looked at Hood. “I’m offended, Little Wing.”
“Most of the time it’s no,” Hood said to the camera, ignoring Nightwing.
“Hurt.”
“You make him dinner one time and he keeps coming back like a damn stray.”
“Wounded, even.”
“But you’re...legally related?” Bridgett asked hesitantly.
“No,” Nightwing said at the same time Hood said “Yes.” They looked at each other. “Yes,” Nightwing said at the same time Hood said “No.”
Hood snorted. “Yeah, that just about explains it.”
“That...explains nothing?” Bridgett furrowed her brow.
Nightwing opened his mouth to reply but Addy interrupted, pointing her pale hand at him so the camera could see it. “Can we talk about how you’ve known a crime lord since he was thirteen?”
He waved it away dismissively. “I’ve known crime lords since I was nine, Hood isn’t special.”
“Now I’m offended,” Hood joked.
“You’ve known crime lords since you were nine?!”
“Sure; Ozzy and I go way back.”
Hood rolled his eyes. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg, no pun intended. Does the name ‘Boy Hostage’ mean anything to you two?” He ignored Nightwing’s exasperated, “God, not this again,” and nodded at the girls’ blank stares. “Right, that was before your time. Damn I’m getting old,” he muttered. “Alright kiddos, gather around and let me tell you how this dumbass,” he pointed a thumb towards the other hero, “got kidnapped five times in four weeks.”
“That was one time.”
“You mean five times.”
Nightwing spluttered. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, it means you still don’t understand the English language despite speaking it for fifteen years. Now shut up and let me tell my story.”
“It’s my story, but whatever, steal that too I guess,” Nightwing mocked quietly.
“Where was I? Right. Boy Hostage. Picture it. The year is 20XX. Robin 1 finally got convinced to wear pants by the superior Robin 2.” Nightwing rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. “Robin 1, who I’ll call Dickface, because he’s a Dick, is slumming it with the Teen Titans while Robin 2, who I’ll call Better Robin, is swept up fighting Batman’s crusade in Gotham. Nightwing doesn’t exist yet because someone is stubborn as fuck and refuses to let the new replace the old. Team Bat consists of Batman, two Robins, and Batgirl. First kidnapping.” He holds up a finger. “Dickface challenges a certain Deadliest Mercenary in the World and gets his Titan friends injected with deadly nanobots. Now the mercenary, whose name rhymes with Blethstroke the Kerminator, has complete control over Dickface and forces him to be his apprentice.”
“You got kidnapped by Deathstroke the Terminator?!” Addy shrieked. Bridgett’s face had gone pale.
“Hey hey,” Hood said and held up a hand. “Blethstroke the Kerminator. A completely different deadly assassin whose name we do not evoke in this household, lest he hear and come running back to snatch up wayward Birds. Right, ‘Wing?”
The older hero was pinching the bridge of his nose, his face a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Sure, Hood,”
“Deathstroke. The. Terminator.” Addy ground out.
“Don’t worry, it was only for a few weeks.”
“Spoilers!” Hood shushed. Nightwing raised his hands innocently and mimed zipping his mouth.
“Okay,” Hood turned back to the camera. “So Dickwad is kidnapped, his team is half worried about his safety and half convinced he’s actually switched sides. Eventually they find out about the nanobots and they fight off the creep and win the day. Joy,” he said the last part flatly. “Enter Kidnapping Two.” He held up two fingers.
“Dickhead is shaken from his vacation with Grandpa Creepstroke—” Nightwing choked “—so he decides to visit Daddy Bats for some relaxing vigilante bonding time.” He looked around at the three of them to make sure he still had their full attention. “Of course, this is the time period where he and Batty could start an argument out of nothing, and I mean literally nothing. B coughed once and Dickmeister started yelling—”
“That did not happen.”
“It did, and you can’t convince me otherwise. Anyway, that day was especially explosive because the topic of family came up, and—can I borrow that?” He pointed to the mic that had been dangling from Bridgett’s limp hand. She wordlessly held it out. “Thank you.” He tapped it twice then held it up to his mouth. “So the topic of Family came up and of course Dick the Frick here had to say his favorite catchphrase at the time,” he held the microphone up to Nightwing’s face with a flourish. Nightwing, for his part, only stared at Hood with a single unamused eyebrow raised.
“C’mon Big Bird, be a good sport,” he mimicked Nightwing’s earlier words. “Robin said his favorite catchphrase…” he trailed off, shaking the mic a little for emphasis.
The hero let out a long sigh then reluctantly leaned over the foam and said in a tired voice, “You’re not my father.”
Hood brought the mic to his face. “Aww c’mon ‘Wing, I remember you being a bit more passionate than that! More high-pitched too.”
Nightwing gave him a sharp glare. “Don’t push it.”
Hood just faced the camera again with a shit eating grin on his face. “Batman,” he continued, “was of course being his emotionally constipated self, and poor little Robin Superior is caught in the middle.” He put the hand not holding the microphone over his heart. “What a sweet, innocent lad. Never done anything wrong in his life. May God rest his soul.”
Nightwing made a cough into his fist that sounded suspiciously like, “Bullshit.”
Hood scowled at Nightwing’s innocent smile before turning back to the camera. “Anyway, in a fit of teenage angst, Dickman McGee runs from the house in his civvies and decides the Bowery is a great place for a kid to hide from his overprotective father. I think you can guess what happens next.”
The camera followed Bridgett’s judgmental gaze to Nightwing, who looked sufficiently embarrassed. “Not my finest moment.”
“And we’re just getting started!” Hood said gleefully. “Now poor DumbWing is in his civvies and can’t just break out and expose his secret identity. So he has to wait for Batman to finish brooding and realize his kid should have been home by now.”
“How long does that take?” asked Bridgett.
“Longer than it should’ve,” muttered Nightwing.
“But not nearly as long as it could have been if a certain Robin 2.0 hadn’t said something, and then rescued the poor civilian ChickenDicken himself when B wanted to leave him longer to ‘blow off some steam.’”
“Did I ever thank him for that?” Nightwing asked, ignoring the girls’ appalled looks.
Hood raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, did you?"
“So no. I’ll have to do that later.”
“You gonna talk to a grave, Big Bird?”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Hood winced for a second before reciting “Do not stand at my grave and weep—”
“—I am not there, I do not sleep,” Nightwing finished. “Yeah yeah, get to the next kidnapping before I throw you off the building, Edgelord.”
“Wait wait wait,” Bridgett held up her hands. “Can we talk about the obvious child neglect for a second?”
“Nope,” Hood answered flippantly. “Kidnapping three!” He put up a third finger. “A week after DickDick’s meat tenderizing extravaganza—”
“It was just a light beating, don’t exaggerate.”
“—Batman has decided that he’s fit for duty and enlists his help in a sting operation on the Iceberg Lounge, despite having a perfectly untenderized other Robin at his disposal.”
“Why did he ask me and not Robin 2, anyway?" Nightwing asked Hood. "Or Batgirl?”
“Because you’re the Golden Child, dumbass,” Hood said.
“Obviously not!” Addy squeaked.
“Thank you!” Nightwing pointed to Addy without breaking eye contact. “Someone else sees it!”
Hood rubbed a hand down his face. “I’m not getting into this with you right now. For whatever reason,” he sent a pointed look at Nightwing before returning to the camera, “B chooses Robin 1. And to absolutely no one’s surprise, that was the wrong choice, because—”
“Nope!" Nightwing stopped him. "Give me that mic, I’m telling the next part. You weren’t there, you won’t do it justice.”
“I read the reports.”
“It’s not the same and you know it, now gimme.” He held out his palm. Hood rolled his eyes but handed over the microphone. They had a minor elbow-nudging fight when Nightwing moved to stand where Hood was in the center of the camera frame, ignoring that Addy could simply move her arm two inches to the left, but eventually the Nightwing won with a decisive poke to a sore spot on Hood's side. Hood consoled himself by leaning against the wall behind Nightwing and giving the man bunny ears while he talked.
“Based on B’s intel, we get into the Iceberg Lounge around three in the morning to stop a massive drug deal.”
“Don’t those usually happen in, like, warehouses and stuff?” Bridgett asked.
“Most of the time, but Ozzy likes to do most of his business in-house. So there we are hiding out in the rafters, waiting for the client to get in. Because the place is made of literal ice, the ceiling is...weird.”
“Weird?” Addy repeated.
“Weird,” Nightwing confirmed. “We had to contort ourselves into...less than comfortable shapes to fit right and stay hidden. Of course my ribs were still bruised to hell and back—”
“Language,” Hood said smiling, still holding up the bunny ears. Nightwing made a gesture behind his back that made the other man laugh.
“—and my vision starts filling with black dots because I haven’t been able to breathe properly for the past fifteen minutes and I’m too dumb and stoic to tell B I’m in pain.”
“Wow, he admits it,” said Hood.
“Pot, kettle,” Nightwing said without turning around. “I finally start telling Batman something’s wrong, but the next thing I remember is waking up tied to a chair with Penguin pointing a gun at my face. In a warehouse this time,” he nodded to Bridgett.
“The idiot passed out and landed in the middle of the goddamn penguin pool,” Hood laughed. “I watch the cowl footage whenever I need a pick-me-up.”
“You what?.” Nightwing finally turned around to face Hood, who hastily put his arm down. “What are you even doing behind me, get over here.” He grabbed a leather-clad arm and dragged Hood back in view of the camera. Hood said nothing but grinned innocently.
With a final suspicious gaze at Hood, Nightwing continued. “So there I am, freezing my cape off because I landed in some arctic-temperature water and Ozzy’s kidnapped me enough times to know he needs more than just a pair of handcuffs to keep me contained. He’s pointing his gun, monologuing, while his goons tie a second layer of ropes around my arms. The only good part about the whole thing was that I was too numb to feel my ribs at that point. Finally, I interrupt the guy and mention that it’s in the middle of a Gotham winter and I’m literally shivering hard enough to make the chair rattle. Now, say what you will about Oswald, but he’s not cruel to children. Sure, he’ll rough them up a little bit, but he won’t be weird about it. After I point out my predicament, he kinda looks at me for a minute before suggesting I change.”
The blue vigilante paused for a second. “I gave him this look,” he demonstrated an extremely judgemental expression for the camera, “then said ‘gee, if only I weren’t tied up,’ because I was a little shit.”
“You’re still a little shit.”
Nightwing grinned but didn’t deny it. “Then he’s all ‘obviously we can’t let you out, why don’t I take off your clothes for you?” He held up a placating hand at Bridgett’s alarmed look. “Again, Penguin won’t cross certain lines with children and that’s one of them. So. I knew what he meant. And he knew what he meant. But at this point I was pissed, I couldn’t feel my toes, and I had a standard to keep up when it came to my kidnappings.”
“What standard is that?” Addy asked almost cautiously.
Nightwing looked dead into the camera and said, “Being annoying as humanly possible.”
“Buddy, you do that even when you’re not kidnapped,” Hood commented. Without looking, Nightwing reached out to a spot on Hood’s midsection and tickled it, making the younger man shriek and slap the hand away.
“Like I said, I have a standard. So I immediately start going all ‘wow, Ozzy, I didn’t know you were a pedo.’ Ozzy, of course, immediately starts denying it, but I’m like ‘I’m literally tied shibari-style to a chair while you offer to take my clothes off.’ His goons start giving him shifty looks and eventually the man gets so embarrassed he just cuts me out of the chair himself and tells me to get out. Luckily Batman had only been five minutes away by that point so I was able to warm up in the Batmobile.”
“I still think it’s a miracle you didn’t get pneumonia,” Hood muttered.
“Hey now, I’m not the Robin with the missing spleen.”
Hood snorted.
Bridgett looked, not for the first time, extremely concerned. “One of you is missing a spleen?”
“For security reasons, I’m not answering that,” replied Nightwing.
“But you just—!”
“Onto kidnapping number four!” Hood interrupted. He grabbed the mic out of the other man’s hand and hip-checked him out of his spot. “Because Dicksicle managed to not get himself sick with his stunt, he was roped into attending a fancy party that weekend.”
“Heh. Roped,” Nightwing whispered. Hood ignored him.
“But you were just kidnapped three times?!” Addy blurted out, distressed. “And were your ribs even healed?”
Nightwing scratched his cheek. “I mean...not really? But if I let a little kidnapping and injury stop me from doing civilian things then I wouldn’t have a life.”
Neither girl seemed to know how to respond to that, so Hood resumed talking. “I’ll skip to the good part because the party itself was long and boring. Basically, a Gotham Rogue, whom I will not name for security reasons, and all of their armed goons decided to party crash. They needed a hostage and decided Robin Numero Dos was the perfect candidate. Problem one: Robin 2 was in civvies. Being the absolute self-sacrificing idiot that he is, Dick-for-Brains over here decides to offer himself as hostage instead, Hunger Games style. Problem 2: Robin 1 was also in civvies. Now, instead of Batman rescuing a perfectly healthy, unbruised or not recently kidnapped Robin in civvies, he has to work around all of the,” he waved a hand around the other man’s body, “...Dickishness”
Nightwing crossed his arms. “I’ll pull a Katniss for all of you, every time, no matter what state I’m in, and I won’t apologize for that.”
Red Hood stared at the other vigilante for a second. “Like I said. Self-sacrificing idiot,” he said to the camera. “Luckily, Batgirl was also there that day and they managed to grab Dickniss before the van got to the next block.”
“Quickest rescue yet,” Nightwing nodded.
“Which leaves...drumroll, please,” Red Hood asked, and Bridgett obligingly drummed on her thighs. “Kidnapping number five!”
“Does it really count if I was kidnapped by Batman though?” Nightwing asked to no one in particular.
“He WHAT,” both girls yelled, almost in-sync.
“Hang on, hang on, we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Hood said. “So. Batman, seeing that his poor Robin Prime had been subjected to one too many kidnappings, even for him, decides that what he needs is…more anti-kidnapping training.”
“Completely ignoring the fact that I got myself out of two of them, and could have escaped from the other two situations if things had gotten really bad,” Nightwing added.
“Whatever you say, Houdickie,” Hood drawled. “Because Batman is the living embodiment of the word ‘intense,’ he decides that the best way to test Dick Wonder on his escape skills is to kidnap the bird himself. In the middle of the night. From his own bed.”
There was absolute silence from the two girls before Addy muttered “...you know what, I’m not even surprised anymore.”
Nightwing gave him a look. “Don’t act like it was all Batman. I recall Robin 2 using entirely too much duct tape. And then cackling evilly at me whenever I tried to move.”
“I’m sure he was just getting into character,” Hood said, demure.
“Uh huh,” the older vigilante said flatly.
“Robin 2 did that?” Bridgett questioned. “But he always seemed so nice!”
“Robin 2 was a dramatic little shit who took every chance he could to annoy me,” Nightwing replied factually.
Bridgett stiffened perceptibly. “Isn’t it a little callous to speak about a dead kid like that?”
“Nah, he was totally a dramatic little shit,” Hood answered for him, “he wouldn’t care. Even his death was dramatic.”
Now Nightwing stiffened. “Hood…”
“You could almost say…he went out with a bang.”
Nightwing closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. He took a few deep, calming breaths while Hood bit his lips trying not to laugh. Beside him, Bridgett was giving him a disgusted look.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he said between his fingers. “For my own sanity.”
“Aw c’mon ‘Wing, everyone loves a good death joke.”
“Sorry if hearing about my brother’s death is a bit of a tough pill to swallow.”
Hood looked contrite for a minute before his face morphed into suspicion. “Did you just—”
Nightwing’s demeanor instantly changed from devastated to cheeky. “Maybe.”
“Holy shit,” Hood laughed, “come here.” He clapped Nightwing into a brief hug before wiping a fake tear from his eye. “My little Bird Boy, making death jokes already. They grow up so fast.”
“Well, I figured I’ve got enough terrible coping mechanisms,” Nightwing said cheerfully, “what’s one more?”
“What the FUCK” Bridgett burst out. “We all know about Robin 2, but you, Nightwing? You died?!”
Nightwing and Red Hood looked at each other and then back at her again. “No…?” the vigilante in question said, though it came out as more of a question.
“When did you die!” she shouted, “why haven’t we heard about this? This should have been news! Why does nobody know?”
“Don’t feel bad, nobody remembers it,” he shrugged, trying and failing to look nonchalant.
“What does that mean?" she insisted, "How can nobody remember?”
“Hey! We never finished kidnapping number five,” Hood interrupted with a slightly nervous chuckle.
“You’re the second Robin.” Abby said it quietly, but it immediately silenced everyone else.
“Excuse me?” Hood said flatly.
“At the beginning of the interview, Nightwing mentioned you stole his colors. I thought he was just talking about his red suit, but he wasn’t. You’re Robin 2.”
“Look, kid—”
“Nightwing has known Hood since he was thirteen, around Robin 2’s starting age. You two are obviously close, both figuratively and literally,” in unison, the heroes looked down and noticed the lack of space between them, then guiltily took a step away, “Hood’s been telling all these kidnapping stories like he was there as Robin, both of you have been talking about a dead kid like he’s not dead—I mean shit,” she gestured to the pair, “the brother vibes you give off are strong. It makes sense.”
“Robin 2 died in an explosion,” Hood said a little hoarsely. "Everyone's read those leaked reports."
The camera view moved up and down as Addy shrugged. “It's Gotham.”
When neither vigilante could think of an immediate counter, Bridgette pitched in, “I think you're right." She sounded both horrified and awed as she turned to speak to the men. "You guys have Sunday dinners. Nightwing knew exactly where to tickle Hood, which is peak big sibling behavior, I would know,” she grinned to the camera in an aside. “Oh! Plus you guys recited that poem, ‘do not stand at my grave and weep,’ implying that Hood died and came back! Or you faked your death?” She tilted her head at Hood. “Either way, it fits with Robin 2.”
The two vigilantes were silent for a moment, staring at them intensely. Then they looked at each other, communicating silently with small gestures and eyebrow raises. Finally, Nightwing turned back to face the camera. “Well, I apologize, but we’ll have to delete that footage. We’ll happily re-record the interview question then be on our way,” he smiled disarmingly but there was no mistaking the intent behind it as he stepped forward to take the phone.
The camera backed up as Addy replied, “Uhh you can’t.”
“I think you’ll find we can,” Hood— Robin 2 replied dryly.
“No, I mean,” Addy huffed, stepping back even farther, “you literally can’t. I’ve been livestreaming this, not recording it.”
The two men paused. Then Nightwing let out a soft, “Fuck.”
Red Hood looked up at the sky in exasperation. “There goes all my street cred. If Crime Alley falls into shambles because of this, I’m blaming you, Dickshit.”
“I’m not the one who started blabbing about our family!”
“Oh sure, and telling everyone I stole your colors wasn’t a dead giveaway.”
“Whatever. Let’s just leave before B finds us.”
Hood straightened, eyes wide. “Shit. Yeah.” He shoved the microphone back into Bridgett's hands before putting the helmet back on his head. “I’m not explaining this to B,” his modulated voice called out to Nightwing, who was already standing on the wall, grapple out.
“And you think I want to? Why do you think I fucked off to Blüdhaven in the first place?” With that, a hook shot out and he disappeared into the night.
“Shit,” Hood said, more emphatically this time, before he, too, disappeared, leaving Bridgett alone in the frame with a gobsmacked look on her face. After a solid ten seconds of blank staring, she finally turned back to the camera. She raised a shaking microphone up to her mouth, not noticing it was upside down.
“This has been...Channel 69 News and…” she let out a long sigh, dropping her hand down. “Our vigilantes need so much therapy.”