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"Long time no see, Nygma. Too bad you haven't changed much."
Nightwing greeted the Riddler with a friendly smile that didn't reach his eyes — the kind of smile that promised consequences rather than warmth.
"Goodbye." Smack!
A minute later, Nightwing walked out of the warehouse carrying the bruised and unconscious Riddler slung over one shoulder like an old sack. Edward Nygma's green suit was rumpled, his question-mark cane left cracked on the concrete floor behind them.
Outside, a sleek, pitch-black Batmobile waited at the entrance, engine idling with a low, predatory purr.
Nightwing secured the Riddler tightly with reinforced cuffs, shoved him into the trunk without ceremony, and slid into the driver's seat. The canopy hissed shut, and the vehicle accelerated smoothly toward Arkham Island, cutting through Gotham's fog like a black blade.
"Nightwing, did you catch the Riddler?"
Oracle's voice came through the comms during the drive, crisp and professional despite the late hour.
"Already on my way to deliver him to Arkham Asylum," Nightwing replied, eyes fixed on the road. "But I didn't see Tim."
"Don't worry. He sent a tracking signal to the Batcave not long ago, and Alfred has already gone to pick him up."
Nightwing exhaled quietly, tension easing just a fraction from his shoulders.
"You really should have called me earlier," he said softly. "With Batman gone, Tim still isn't mature enough, and Azrael has always been a loner. You must have been under a lot of pressure lately."
"I know you've been busy," Oracle replied. No obvious emotion colored her voice, but Nightwing knew her too well — the slight flatness was a tell.
"Haven't you settled down in Blüdhaven? Things there aren't much more stable than Gotham, and you still have your own team to manage, don't you?"
She didn't need to say the name. The silence after "your own team" carried enough weight.
Nightwing's real name was Dick Grayson. He had been the original Robin. Back when Barbara had not yet been confined to a wheelchair and was still active as Batgirl, the two of them had fought side by side countless times.
Even Barbara's first Batcycle had been a gift from Dick — custom-painted, faster than anything the GCPD had at the time.
Naturally, the two of them grew close.
However, the relationship did not last long.
Not long after that, Dick, who was still Robin at the time, formed the Teen Titans with several other young heroes. And within the team, he developed feelings for one of them, codenamed Starfire — the Princess of Tamaran, who stood over one point nine meters tall, radiant and fierce.
In short, Dick and Barbara parted on good terms, and he began dating Starfire, even reaching the point of planning a wedding at one time.
Before that wedding, Dick sought out Barbara after a long separation. One night of old feelings and bad decisions later, he told her he was getting married and that what had happened between them was a mistake — too impulsive, too late.
Although the wedding was ultimately called off due to various complications, Dick's actions that night left Barbara with a resentment that lingered for a long time. Perhaps she had once foolishly believed he had come to reconcile, never expecting what followed.
Now, Robin had become Nightwing, the Teen Titans had dropped the word "Teen" to become the Titans, and his relationship with Starfire had settled into something relatively stable.
Well… stable in the sense of repeatedly breaking up and getting back together.
...
Gordon did the same, chasing after the decoy without hesitation. The cruiser's lights painted the streets in frantic red and blue as he pursued the falling figure — only to watch it crumple into smoke on impact, revealing yet another perfectly timed illusion.
To maximize the silvercat ring's effect, Darren made sure his feet hit the ground first.
Under normal circumstances, his legs would have snapped the moment he landed from that height. But since Darren did not die on the spot, the silvercat ring activated instantly, negating the damage he should have taken and leaving his feet unharmed.
At the same time, an indescribable wave of intense pain erupted from his knees and spread throughout his entire body like liquid fire.
The sensation was strange. It did not come from his physical body. After all, Darren was not injured at all, and his nerves were not transmitting pain signals.
The agony he felt was deeper — more like pain of the soul, raw and existential, as if something essential inside him had been briefly torn and stitched back together.
It lasted for several agonizing minutes before finally easing a little.
During that time, his entire body lay stiff on the cold rooftop gravel, every attempt to move feeling like a knife twisting deep within. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the night chill; his breathing came in shallow, controlled gasps.
"Tch, this is brutal. Looks like I'll have to train regularly to get used to the pain of landing. Otherwise, being stuck on the ground for several minutes every time before I can move again is going to cause trouble."
Darren slowly flexed his fingers, then his wrists, testing the return of control.
He silently drew up a training plan in his head — controlled drops from lower heights first, building tolerance, maybe some meditation to dull the mental edge.
Pain in the mind had a clear advantage over physical pain. No matter how intense it felt, his body remained intact. As long as he could endure it, he could still move freely without being affected. Real physical injuries were different. Endurance alone could not prevent a loss of mobility.
What's more, high-intensity activity on an injured area would only make the injury worse.
"The silvercat ring can only negate damage that isn't instantly fatal. If the fall is enough to turn someone into pulp the moment they hit the ground, then the ring probably won't work at all."
"However, with a fall from that height, there should still be enough time for me to take other measures and land safely."
With today's work finished, Darren brushed the dust off his clothes, adjusted the brim of his hat, and headed home, the city lights blurring below as he slipped into the night.
[Congratulations to the host for completing the objective 'Steal Janice Lawson'!]
What?
A look of shock crossed Darren's face. He stopped mid-step on the empty sidewalk.
He had not expected the system to issue the mission settlement at this moment.
Although the system never restricted what he had to steal, although this mission target was chosen by Darren himself, although he had responded to the Riddler with a Notice saying he would save the hostage, and although he had even told Janice personally that the gem being stolen this time was her… Darren truly had not expected the system to treat saving Janice as completing a mission.
"In other words, as long as I designate something to steal through a Notice, any person, object, or matter can count as a mission target? If that's the case, the range of choices just became a lot broader…"
While Darren was still lost in his thoughts, the system's announcement continued, voice unchanging.
Completion Difficulty: Medium Treasure
Quality: Common
Style Index: Flashy enough
Overall Rating: D
Random reward draw starting…
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Peace Aura LV1.]
[Peace Aura LV1: Within the range of a neighborhood, moderately reduces the violent tendencies of all nearby living beings. The effect fluctuates based on each individual's mental state.]
[Commentary: And you, my friend, are the true white dove.]
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