#catalystsofchange

@catalystsofchange​

There had always been something about Dick that was outspoken and… it reminded her of other people in her life that she held close as family. The kind that was outrageous and the center of attention no matter where they were at. And… they had a flair for the dramatic. Just like Dick. “File a complaint with HR,” Natasha shot back. “Let me know if they reply, I can’t ever get anyone on the line. I’ve got a few things to say about Sam and his bird.”

She held out a small transmitter, carefully out of the line of sight of those around them. “She’ll respond better if you walk up to her. Most people don’t know your face.” At least, they didn’t connect it to Nightwing. Natasha was the first one to admit that her appearance was a great strength in her field of work and Dick was much of the same. Young, attractive, and smart. But people took a look at the first two and dropped their guards. (Not with Natasha, not anymore. Mostly at least. Working overseas was still feasible, and sometimes people thought she was an Avenger, but they brushed it off as impossible. But here, she couldn’t risk being seen. And the only approach to this target was direct.) “Get this in her pocket and she’ll take us to the shipping container we’re looking for. You might even get an arrest out of it, detective.”

He had to have heard. Even if he was a cop - he was more than that. People talked to him. And by the look on his face, Sharon was sure that someone in that warehouse had told him what happened. Or at least sprinkled in some details as to what she had done. (Helena, she figured, would be in the clear until they took Sharon out. They needed to weaken Helena before taking her out completely - and ratting on Sharon to an officer or to Nightwing was probably a good way to do it. Why take care of a problem when you could manipulate someone else into taking care of it?)

"You look like you have something to say," Sharon remarked, crossing her arms as he got closer. "You think I could file a complaint against you with the city? I mean, this is harassment, Grayson." As if the city would give a damn one way or another about her or anyone else on this side of the city.

@catalystsofchange

@catalystsofchange

@catalystsofchange

"You and me both." The words came fast. Nearly dismissive. But there was no humor in her eyes. Nothing that suggested this was the normal casual exchange where she ribbed him for no reason, dragging up anything and everything to irritate him. There was an unnatural pause where Sharon shifted, looking at him like she was hoping he'd notice something was off — hoping that he'd ask. (But he was tired. And god, if she couldn't relate to that.)

"You're gonna hate me here in two seconds." If he didn't already. Sharon pushed off the wall and then dropped a thumb drive on the table in front of him. "Remember how I said you can't stop my people? They're an idea. I'm an idea as long as only a handful of people know me and what I do." She tapped the thumb drive before pushing it towards him. "Someone wants to replace me. Which puts you in the line of fire."

@catalystsofchange

Jason wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up at Dick’s place, but there he was. His lead had led him to Bludhaven and after getting into a rough fight with his mark that resulted in a good few bruises and a gash that had cut through his leather jacket that he was more pissed about than the actual bruises. Dick’s place was closer than anywhere else so he ended up there to stitch himself up against his better judgement and now was regretting it due to the tangent he was being subjected to while his head pounded.

“Dude,” Jason sighed heavily in the midst of Dick’s tirade about Bruce. Again. “Seriously. This isn’t the first time he’s going to be a fucking idiot and it’s not the last. What are you even so mad about this time? Like, it’s not worth it. I started tuning him out at like age eleven.” He drawls out, leaning back in his seat, ice pack in his hand as he presses it to the bruise blooming on the skin of his cheek. “Also like, can you not yell? I think I have a mild concussion. My head bounces around in that helmet like a fucking ping pong ball sometimes. Sometimes I think I’m not built for this shit anymore because of it, but then again, what else would I do.” A pause and then, “you’re almost thirty and you don’t wear a helmet. How are you going to last this life?” He grins wickedly at him, far too happy to get a jab in when he can.