Beep. Beep. Beep.
A hand slammed down on the alarm clock.
A 20-year-old guy groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. His head felt heavy, his body sore like he'd just run a marathon. When he stood, he stumbled and caught himself against the nightstand.
"Why do I feel taller?" he muttered, squinting at his reflection in the mirror across the room.
He froze.
The face staring back wasn't his. It was… Asher Angel?
"What the hell?" he whispered, touching his cheeks, his jaw, even pulling at his hair. "Why do I look like Asher Angel?"
Suddenly, pain shot through his skull like lightning. He dropped to his knees, clutching his head as memories and memories that weren't his flooded in all at once.
The circus.
The tightrope.
His parents' screams.
Bruce Wayne.
The Batcave.
The Teen Titans.
Nightwing.
When the pain faded, he was left panting on the floor, trembling.
"Holy shit…" he breathed. "I'm Nightwing."
He stumbled to his feet, still dazed, and noticed an envelope sitting neatly on his nightstand. His name Dick was written across the front. He tore it open and read the note inside.
Hey Dick,
How's the new body? You're probably wondering why you're here. Simple I got bored.
Ever wonder what would happen if Nightwing existed in the Marvel Universe? Well, now we'll find out. I took a random soul, dropped it into this new body, and gave you a little "boon." Head to the warehouse listed below, use the code 0784, and you'll find my present and you are not in New York but Chicago and I left some surprises there.
Good luck with your new life.
Love, R.O.B.
Dick's eye twitched. "You've gotta be kidding me…"
He sighed, shaking his head. "Well… I'm already here. Might as well enjoy it."
He glanced at the address written below and spotted a set of keys on the table. A house key and a motorcycle key.
When he stepped outside, his jaw dropped.
A sleek blue motorcycle waited for him in the driveway, shining under the morning sun.
He grinned. "Okay, R.O.B., maybe you're not that bad."
Sliding on the helmet, he started the engine, the roar echoing through the quiet street. His new body seemed to remember how to handle the bike; muscle memory guided every turn as he sped toward the address.
The location turned out to be an abandoned warehouse on the city's edge. He parked, climbed off, and walked inside after putting the code in at the door. At first, the place looked empty.
Then a red light flickered.
A scanner swept across his face.
"Welcome, Nightwing."
A metal door slid open, revealing an elevator waiting inside. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped in. The doors closed, and the elevator descended with a low hum.
When it stopped, the doors opened and his breath was caught.
Spread out before him was a massive underground chamber filled with advanced tech, glowing monitors, and weapon racks. In the center of the cave floor was the Nightwing emblem, illuminated in blue light.
He stepped forward, staring in awe. A large monitor powered on, displaying the same emblem. A chair rose from the floor, and then a calm British voice spoke through the speakers.
"Master Grayson," the AI said. "Welcome to the Wingcave."
Dick blinked, still trying to process it all.
He looked around the cave once more, grinning despite himself.
"Holy shit," he muttered.
Dick glanced at the massive computer screen. "Uh… what's your name?"
"I don't have a name, Master Grayson." the A.I. replied.
Dick smiled softly. "Then I'll give you one. From now on, your name is Alfred."
"Very well, Master Grayson. My name will be Alfred."
Dick leaned back in the chair. "Alright, Alfred… are you connected to the New York city network? I know we are in Chicago but I have some things to look in to."
"Yes, Master Grayson. I have access to all public and private databases within New York and other cities in the US."
"Good. Search the following names Tony Stark, Reed Richards, Peter Parker, Matt Murdock, Charles Xavier, Stephen Strange."
The AI processed the request for a moment before responding.
"Tony Stark was recently kidnapped but has returned safely. He has disbanded Stark Industries' weapons division. Reed Richards is preparing for a space mission with four others. Peter Parker is a fifteen-year-old student at Midtown High. Matt Murdock is the head of Nelson and Murdock law firm."
Dick interrupted, "What about the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?"
"There have been no mentions of such an individual,"Alfred replied after a pause.
"Huh," Dick muttered. "So he hasn't become Daredevil yet. And Reed hasn't had his accident… Tony hasn't revealed himself as Iron Man… and Peter's already in high school? This must be an alternate timeline. A sort of early-stage MCU."
"Continuing the search," Alfred said. "Charles Xavier is a mutant activist and headmaster of a school for gifted individuals. Stephen Strange is a world-renowned surgeon."
Dick sat quietly, thinking. "So right now, the only active heroes are probably the X-Men… Got it."
He stood and walked over to the glass case holding the Nightwing suit. "Alfred, scan for any reported crimes in the area. If something pops up, connect to the comms in my mask."
"Understood, Master Grayson."
He opened the case, pulled the suit free, and stared at it for a long moment. Then, with a grin, he slipped it on and turned toward the mirror.
"It's hero time," he said with a smirk.
"Master Grayson," Alfred replied dryly, "please never say that again."
Dick chuckled, slightly embarrassed. "Got it, Alfred."
Moments later, the underground hangar doors rumbled open as Dick climbed onto the Wingcycle. The engine roared to life, echoing through the cave.
He hit the throttle, and the blue streak of Nightwing shot out into the night ready to make his mark on the Marvel Universe.
Timeskip
Nightwing parked the blue cycle in a narrow alleyway, the engine cutting off with a soft hum. He swung his leg over the seat and stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders.
"Alright, come on, Dick," he muttered. "It's all muscle memory. Just go."
He cracked his neck, exhaled, and leapt for the nearest fire escape. His movements were rusty but instinctive with every reach, every pull-up felt natural, even if his mind struggled to keep up with his body. Within seconds, he scaled three stories and vaulted onto the rooftop, landing in a crouch.
He winced and looked at his gloved hands. "Okay… note to self still hate heights without the grapnel."
He tapped his utility belt and sighed. "And of course, I have one. Great start, Grayson. Real genius move."
A scream cut through the night.
Female. Close. Terrified.
Before he even realized it, his body moved with his instincts overriding thought. He sprinted to the edge of the roof and peered down into the shadows of the next alley. A group of men surrounded a woman, their laughter echoing off the brick walls.
His heart thumped. For a second, fear clawed at him but not fear of the fight, but of the feeling. The familiar rush. The part of him that missed this.
He inhaled sharply, then jumped.
The world slowed as he flipped midair. He landed in a perfect three-point stance between the woman and her attackers, head low, eyes glowing faintly under the white lenses of his mask.
The men froze.
One of them scoffed. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Nightwing straightened slowly, twirling one of his escrima sticks in his hand. The movement was smooth and with muscle memory taking over again.
"Just your friendly neighborhood acrobat," he said smirking.
The first man charged.
A mistake.
Nightwing sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and twisted sending the thug's momentum crashing into the wall. Before the second could react, Dick's stick snapped upward in a sharp escrima strike to the jaw, then a roundhouse kick sent him spinning to the pavement.
"Two down," he muttered.
The third man pulled a knife. Dick sighed. "Always with the knives."
He flicked his wrist, and a small wing-dart launched from his gauntlet, striking the man's wrist and making him drop the blade. Nightwing closed the gap with a spinning leap, knees high, and delivered a dropkick that slammed the guy onto a trash can.
He landed lightly, turning toward the woman. "You okay, ma'am?"
She nodded shakily, backing away. "Y-yeah… thank you."
"Call the police," he said, voice steady. "And next time, avoid alleys like this one."
As she hurried off, Nightwing crouched beside the groaning thugs, tying their wrists with cable from his belt. His heart was still racing but not from fear, but from the rush of being back in action.
He looked up at the skyline, and is excited for his future.
"Guess muscle memory's still got it," he said with a small grin.
"Well done, Master Grayson," Alfred's voice chimed in his ear. "Though might I suggest using your grappling hook next time? Scaling buildings by hand is… inefficient."
Dick chuckled. "Noted, Alfred."
He fired his grapnel toward the next rooftop, the line catching with a satisfying thunk.
"Alright, Wing," he muttered to himself, launching upward. "Welcome to Chicago."
(A.N: If anyone can get the 0784 reference you get a 🍪and you are a real Nightwing fan. Here's a hint it's related to early teen titans comics.)