VERTIGO.

I meant to get this done in March and of course it didn’t happen. But, Dick’s got so many birthdays, I figured I could post it whenever.

He hadn’t been looking for trouble. Not tonight, at least. Tonight, his general plan had been to get the lay of the land, so to speak. Most of his life had been spent in his own neighborhood, and he didn’t have much of a reason to travel far outside of Queens. His world had expanded, the places he could reach with relative ease had grown exponentially. That also meant he spent a fair amount of time consulting Google Maps on rooftops. Peter had gotten lost more times in the past few months than he had his whole life, and he had not been known for a stunning situational awareness.

So, it was while pinching his phone screen to zoom in on the street intersections that he heard an alarm go off about two blocks away. He slipped his phone back into the pocket of his sweats and pulled the goggles over his eyes. His sneakers splashed in murky puddles as he skipped over ledges and drop offs. The shop was two streets away, and the front window was shattered. One guy, as far as he could tell. The store looked like a small jewelers. “Not on my watch.”

Well, it was a work in progress. You know, his phrase. If he was going to do this, he’d need to have a phrase. Not on my watch, it had a nice ring to it, didn’t it? Authoritative, in control. Totally him.

His eyes narrowed as he peered over the edge of the building.The robber fled the store through the broken window, sack in hand like a caricature, and took off down an ally. Peter tailed him, a bird’s eye view from the roof, running back in the direction he’d come from as he clicked a new vial of web fluid into the shooter.

Timing was everything. When he flicked out his wrist, shot the web out, it was like a frog’s tongue strike. Bam! Snagged like a fly. The robber was left dangling from the building, a few feet off the ground.

  MANHATTAN  /  MIDTOWN.

      ––––––       holy infantry, batman ! was it just him, or were the heroes getting YOUNGER as they go ? or, well. hero status pending. call him biased   ( he was ),   but dick was partial to believing any squeak-voiced teenager swinging through town, chasing robbers, and wearing tights was probably one of the good guys, if, perhaps, a little ... misguided. after all, the rise in supervillain activity dictated that, if nothing else, the crime scenes of these american city streets were no place for kids.

                hey. dick knew what you were thinking. but he paid his DUES, alright ?

this wasn’t the first dick had seen of spiderkid. spiderling. spiderboy. fine, he hadn’t caught his name yet. but knowing who and what operated within the new york nightlife was part of the job description — though a kid   ( and dick was certain it was a kid )   tailing purse snatchers and stopping minimart hold-ups in his specific neighborhood meant grounds only for observation, not engagement.

unless — or rather, until — he started expanding his territory, anyway.

even in the ever-shining lights of midtown manhattan, the bright blue stripe of his suit did nothing to keep him from blending   ( almost seamlessly )   into the shadow of skyscrapers.   earn the night,   bruce had said years and years ago, and here he stood, painted black. dick only wondered who taught this kid to sport red and blue. patriotic, maybe, but subtle it was not. then again, neither were a red leotard and scaly green briefs, but they’d worked out pretty well for him.

a button embedded on the left of his domino mask, near the temple, brought the lens function to zoom, and there was no doubt — kid had some solid reflexes. he could even give tim a run for his money, though robin would probably be loath to hear him say so. there was a snappiness to his movements, a rhythm, even if there was no discipline; baby’s first free verse. nightwing zeroed the camera scope in on spiderboy’s wrist, the obvious source of whatever polymer he’d used to capture his perp, although — with a disappointed click of his tongue — he discovered that the tech used to launch it was well-hidden from sight.

interesting. the suit itself screamed   ‘ HOMEMADE ’   — and not in the backed by a billionaire sense. but the technology was obviously sophisticated, and if the kid had come up with it on his own . . .

                                              the real question was, what did he do with the stolen goods, and what did he do to the perps ?

he swan-dove from his perch and landed on his feet, lighter than the height of the drop should allow — more like a CAT than a bird or a bat.   “ swinging through town and cracking JOKES, huh ? ”   he started, coolly, arms crossed over the blue bird symbol emblazoned on his chest.   “ if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were after my job. ”   dick circled the hanging thief, inspected the handiwork. impressive. he turned his gaze back on the spider.