#nightiwing

"I just want to let you know that this conversation will be recorded, but any civilian names or personal details will be censored. So feel free to be open and honest. No secrets. Just tell me what happened."

Across from Clark, the man's hands clench ever so slightly, blood staining the fabric of his gloves. A beat passes, the fists loosen, and nothing is said. Clark can practically feel his restlessness. His heart is jumping to be let go. But he can't loosen the cuffs keeping his hands trapped on top of the table. This goes higher than him.

"Dick," Clark tries, "you need to talk to me if you want us to figure this out."

Dick's silent for a moment. Clark can hear his teeth grinding, like he wants to keep silent for longer. Clark keeps his gaze steady on Dick and tries not to focus too hard on the splatters of blood dotting almost every portion of his body. Smeared across his cheek. It's not his blood. 

Dick lets out a short exhale. "I already told the cops... I don't remember what happened. I just… woke up there."

Clark offers a smile. "That's okay. Then how about we talk about some other stuff you didn't tell the cops. Like why you were at the crime scene to begin with?"

Dick pauses. Worries the inside of his cheek. Then sighs as he clenches and unclenches his hands. "It's sorta a… long story."

"We've got time."

"Okay…" Dick breathes after a minute. "Okay… I... It started about a week ago…"

-o-o-o-o-

About two blocks away from Dick's apartment building, there's a grocery store run by a sweet old lady who definitely doesn't belong in Blüdhaven. The thing about her that’s so rare in this city is that she's kind—she gives cheap prices, donates unsold produce before it rots to various homeless shelters, and she never kicks out a single customer no matter how much they smell like drugs or look broke. She lets homeless kids sleep inside the store during the night, as long as they help her open the store in the morning. 

It's a nice grocery stop. Which is why Dick goes to it every other Thursday, the moment he gets his paycheck and pays his bills, to get groceries to last him until the next time he's paid. 

He didn't even realize he was in a pattern. That something about his life was predictable. It was just something he did without having to think about it. 

Every other Thursday was a shopping day. 

And unfortunately, it made him predictable. 

He doesn’t even realize how predictable until he notices a discreet, black car following him about a block away. Bruce always warns against predictability. It makes it easier for people to target you. And of course Dick's had to goof it up this time. 

He tries to keep towards the more crowded streets as he walks home, but the thing about Blüdhaven is that no one is out unless they really need to be. The entire span of road in front of his apartment complex is completely empty. The car pulls up besides him before he can even break into a run.

The side doors of the car swing open, and out walks two men dressed in dark suits and sunglasses. They have a classic american gangster vibe to them, but Dick has the feeling that these men have nothing to do with the gangs. Dick eyes the front of the car where another person sits at the steering wheel, unmoving. 

"Mr Grayson," one man speaks. 

"Look," Dick replies wearily, taking a cautious step back and holding his grand total of three bags of groceries closer to his chest. "I don't know who you people are, but whatever this is, I don't want any trouble."

"Of course not, Mr Grayson," the man replies. Dick watches wearily as the man steps aside from the back side door. "You must understand that we don't want any trouble either."

The gesture is clear. They want Dick to get in the car. He considers making a run for it, but then the man flicks the side of his jacket over, revealing a gun strapped to his hip. 

Dick swallows and approaches reluctantly. Here he is, thinking that the Dick Grayson kidnappings would have ended after he left Bruce and the manor behind. 

So much for that hope. 

The man takes Dick's groceries and shuffles further aside to let him into the car. The other man silently returns to his seat in the back of the car next to Dick, while the man who spoke earlier climbs into the passenger chair. The engine starts without another word. 

"Where are we going?" He asks, his nerves getting the best of him.

But before anyone answers, a hand is wrapped around his face and soon Dick's senses are overwhelmed by a sickening sweet smell. He tries to struggle, but he's easily overpowered, and soon enough, Dick's vision blacks out thanks to the chloroform.

When Dick wakes up, he's tied to a metal folding chair and placed in the center of a dark open space. Probably some sort of wearhouse. It's impossible to know for sure, because it's so dark and his head is spinning from the after effects of the drugs. 

He immediately tugs on the ropes that keep his wrists to his sides. He tries to kick out his legs as well, but nothing works. He's decently restrained. Well… they're definitely knots that he could probably loosen in just a few minutes, but well… he would have to be Nightwing. Dick Grayson? He's just some guy. 

"Well, well, well," says a voice in a very cliche manner. His head spins as he looks up to find who talked, but he manages to catch sight of the person as they walk into the light and stop in front of Dick, their hands folded across their chest. "If it isn't Nightwing."

-o-o-o-o-

"He knew your secret identity?" Clark asks, and he can't help but sound surprised. 

Dick nods, then bites his lip. "His name was Jesse Mullen."

One of the victims, Clark notes with grim realization. "What did he want with you?"

Dick sighs and avoids Clark's eyes. He stares down at the table like it's the only thing he's allowed to look at. "He knew I was Nightwing. He… used that to… God, Clark, it's gonna sound like I had a motive, and I promise I wouldn't-"

"Just tell me what happened, Dick," Clark says softer than what’s probably appropriate. Dick takes a deep breath and curls his fists once again. 

"Okay. He… he wanted me to work with them. Guard their illegal weapon shipments from the cops, clean up trails. He had pictures… proof that Dick Grayson was Nightwing, and he told me if I didn't do what he wanted or go to anyone for help he'd release the pictures and everyone would know who I am… and that Bruce is Batman."

Blackmail. Clark resists pinching the bridge of his nose.

Blackmail. A motive. 

"I couldn't just… I couldn't let our identities be outed, so I agreed," Dick continued, "I helped them. I decided to… treat it as an undercover mission you know? Find a way to take them out from the inside… I- I can give details on the shipments if you want?"

"I think we should talk about what led you to the scene of the crime," Clark offers, which he immediately regrets because Dick instantly shuts closed any doors he had open. 

"I told-"

"That you don't remember anything," Clark confirms. He sighs and gives Dick a level look. Dick looks tense. Upset. Like talking more will cause him physical pain. "Dick… I'm here because Bruce can't be. I need you to be open, and honest with me. Otherwise… Dick we'll be forced to send in someone else. Or J'onn."

Dick's eyes widen. "I know, I know it's just…" Dick pauses. Takes a deep breath. "Okay… okay. Um. So yesterday… Mullen sent me a message…"

-o-o-o-o-

"No shipments tonight, huh?" Dick huffs, dropping his phone down onto the coffee table. "Thank god. Then maybe I can figure out how I'm going to get out of this mess."

He leans back against his sofa, bringing his hands behind his neck so he can stare at the ceiling and think about how screwed he is. He can't even risk talking to anyone about his situation. Dick doesn't know where Mullen has put the photos he showed Dick… nor if anyone else has them. If he got Bruce or the others to help him take down Mullen and all his friends, there's no predicting how safe they'll be when the dust settles. People figuring out Dick's identity is a problem… but Bruce Wayne? People would go insane. 

No, Dick has to keep this to himself and find a way out of this on his own. He tries not to think about how the last time someone used his identity like this to blackmail him was Blockbuster… he tries not to think about how that one ended up. 

He stands up from his couch and looks back to his phone, an idea forming in his head. 

Maybe… while Mullen is busy doing whatever he does when he's not holding Dick's identity over him like a bone on a string, Dick can sneak into his office and find any clues on where his blackmail has spread to. 

Dick grabs his phone and rushes towards the closet where he keeps his Nightwing suit; soon enough Dick's swinging out into the night sky and landing right outside Mullen's office building. He's met here plenty of times in the past week to know exactly what floor and window belonged to Mullen's office. Unfortunately though, he's also been here enough times to know the window is bulletproof so he can't easily break in. He'll have to either go in from the floor or through the roof which, from Dick's current standing, is twelve stories above him. 

Through the front door it is. Or well, sneakily from the front door. He sticks to the shadows rather expertly if he says so himself.

There's a shocking lack of guards in the hallways. Mullen has hired thugs up the wahzoo. Every time Dick's been here in the past week, there's been guards practically in every hallway. In front of every door. 

Now it's just empty. 

Dick continues undeterred though. He's about two stories from Mullen's apartment now, and he can't worry about the lack of thugs when he's so close. 

He opens the door that leads to the next staircase leading another floor up and…

He wakes up. Rough hands grabbing his shoulders and tugging his wrists behind his back to be cuffed. He feels awful. He can't think. It's all he can do to get his feet below him as he's hefted up so he's standing. He blinks his eyes open, and looks at the scene before him with growing confusion. 

Blood. Everywhere. 

"You have the right to remain silent," the cop that had cuffed him snarls. Dick's heart pounds. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."

-o-o-o-o-

"They took me to the Blüdhaven police department… tried to get me to confess to murder… they wouldn't listen when I said I didn't know what happened. One moment I was going through the halls and the next I'm being arrested… it's a good thing you guys showed up when you did… the detective was about to try and take off my mask." Dick paused to take a breath. "That's it. I swear, Clark, on my parents' graves, I didn't kill anyone. It's all just a huge misunderstanding."

Clark remains silent for a moment, trying to make sense of Dick's story. When the Justice League was notified of Nightwing's arrest… Clark couldn't believe it. They rushed towards the BCPD as quickly as they could to collect him before anything bad happened—seeing as the Justice League is responsible for dealing with its own members when it comes to things like this. Clark thought arresting Dick was as insane as the inmates in Arkham Asylum…

But then the police sent over the files they had on Dick's arrest. But then Bruce told Clark in secret about what Dick had almost succeeded in doing to the Joker. What Bruce suspected what happened to Blockbuster.

Bruce confirmed Dick, in extreme situations, had the potential to be lethal. The documents the police sent simply… confirmed it. 

"Dick, are you sure that's all you remember?" 

Dick nods his head. "I swear. I wouldn't- Clark you don't think I'd actually kill anyone? Would you?"

Five men. Each bludgeoned to death by what appeared to be Dick's escrima sticks. Electric burns littered their bodies. One's throat was sliced open with a wingding. Bruce doesn't want to believe Dick killed anyone, but he's forcing himself to. Clark doesn't think Dick could kill a human, but the evidence is there. 

Clark sighs, dreading the next order of business. He places a small device in the center of the table, right next to the recorder, and steals his nerves. 

"Dick, do you think you can explain this?"

The device hums to life, a blue LED flashes before a holographic screen appears midair, showing the surveillance footage of Jesse Mullen's office, where Nightwing barges in and leaves no one standing. Dick watches the footage with wide eyes, his skin losing more and more color the longer the video goes. As Dick watches, Clark can't help but try and find a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Maybe Dick was possessed? Or mind controlled? Or body snatched?

When they initially picked up Dick, J'onn had mentioned Dick not having any influence in his brain, but that couldn't have been anything more than a light reading. Maybe J'onn just needs a more in depth session with Dick's mind to find foulplay… 

Dick's heart wasn't lying when he told Clark his story.

Then again, most Bats know how to trick a super that can hear their heartbeats. 

The video ends with the police barging in to arrest Dick. Dick's eyes remain on the screen until the device flickers off. Then, ever so slowly, Dick's eyes trail towards Clark. 

"That…" Dick starts, his voice sounding rough and small. "It… couldn't have been me. I- I don't remember doing that. I wouldn't do that. Clark, please, you have to believe me."

"We're looking into it, the investigation is still-"

"Investigation?" Dick squeaks. "Is B- is Batman-?"

"Batman is locked out of the case because of his ties to you." Clark sighs when Dick's face pinches. "We're doing the best we can. Looking into every angle. All we ask is that you cooperate."

Dick nods his head, eyes still wide and skin still pale and heartbeat still honest. "I am, I promise, I'm telling the truth."

Honest heartbeat belonging to one of the most honest people he knows. 

Clark finds it in himself to try and offer a smile. He hopes it doesn't come off as tired. "Then, unless you have anything more to say, we can be done with this." Clark picks up the recording device and gives Dick an inviting look. Dick nods slowly, which invites Clark to stop the recording and stand up from his chair. "Just sit tight, someone will be over to take you to a holding cell for the time being. We'll…" Clark pauses, feeling unsure if he should say anything. He takes a deep breath. "We'll figure this out, Dick. If you're telling the truth, then I'll do everything in my power to find what really killed those men."

Hard resolve passes through Dick's face. He inhales and stares right at Clark with a fire in his eyes. "I'm telling the truth."

Clark finds himself nodding. "Then, I'll see you soon, Dick."

Clark turns from the table Dick's still cuffed to and opens the door to the interrogation room. With a single glance back, Clark shuts and locks the door behind him.