#body flashback | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aspenforest732 · 5 months

Text

Mortem ad Wrens Chapter 14: To Break the Chains

Summary:

tw: calorie tracking, ed behaviors, food insecurity, intrusive thoughts, body flashback Internship starts

Notes:

DISCLAIMER: I’m not a nutritionist and am just trying to not throw complete nonsense in here. Please don’t take any of the nutrition plan stuff as advice, especially since I’m trying to adjust things to loosely make sense with Akira’s quirk. 'text' JSL text thoughts

“Amajiki!” Fat Gum called out, grinning widely as he made his way to the pair. “Good to see you again, and you must be Akira Mori. Let’s get you settled and then we can grab lunch!”

Akira grinned, bowing at the introduction. ‘I look forward to working with you, Fat Gum. Thank you for the opportunity.’

“No need to be so formal with us, Mori. You have quite the quirk, and I have some preliminary ideas to help with your drawback. Our patrol will start at six, so we’ll be showing you the ropes of paperwork.”

As Fat Gum talked about Esuha City and his community programs, Akira felt eyes on them. Without missing a beat, they started looking around more at the shops and sights Fat Gum described while flashing a quick ‘watching us’ to Amajiki. As the trio were stopped by a sweet bun shop owner for samples, Akira casually positioned themselves to look back on the street and spotted Mouse, one of Fat Gum’s sidekicks, in the crowd. They took an offered sweet bun, biting in before signing ‘clear.’

Fat Gum chuckled, “You’ve got good instincts, kid.” He signaled Mouse to move on, who to Akira’s pleasure looked surprised. “You want to be an underground hero, right?”

Akira nodded, ‘It’ll give the cover and flexibility I need to operate. I did briefly consider Twilight, but I need to avoid the media.’

“I’ll keep that in mind as we work on a nutrition plan for your quirk. We’ll be logging what you eat so we have a baseline to work with.”

‘I have been keeping track of that in a notebook since I started at UA,’ Akira signed and fished it out of their pack at Fat Gum’s excitement. ‘The first page has a breakdown of my current nutrition plan, and the rest is a daily log of calories, quirk use, and weight at the beginning and end of each day.’ Knowing how valuable his input could be, Akira had already adjusted the plan to what they actually ate for lunch and dinner instead of what the school knew.

Fat Gum spent the rest of their walk flipping through the notebook, grin falling slightly over some of the pages. “This is great, kid, but I take it you like jelly pouches?” he asked, grin a little more forced.

Akira ducked their head, ears flushing. ‘Eraser insisted on keeping my backup stash stocked with them. I was using pocky sticks before.’

Amajiki peeked up in surprise before tucking back into himself. Fat Gum laughed, “I’ve heard stories about that man and his jelly pouches. I’m glad you caught his eye; I see he also let you put him down as an emergency contact. Any relation?”

Akira shook their head as they slipped into the agency with the pair, ‘I didn’t make a good first impression, and by the end of the first day, Eraser just started helping me outside schoolwork for some reason. He offered to be my second contact since it was required for the internship.’

Akira’s head was on a swivel as Fat Gum gave them a tour of the agency. They met a few of his sidekicks, confirming their observations of brutes and changers comprising most of the hero’s agency. Akira also recognized a few former vigilantes who now lived at the agency full-time while working towards their license. Some were kids but others were in their late teens or early twenties.

After setting their duffle in their room, Akira sat on the bed, letting themself soak in the comforts while they could. I could get used to this, Akira thought bittersweetly. Come on, just let yourself enjoy while you can. You can have three years of this if you don’t ruin it.

Akira pulled their hair into a messy bun and made a couple adjustments to their braces, testing the give since the support company’s execution of Hatsume’s designs had only arrived the previous day. Akira put on their hero costume and restocked their snack pouches, including a protein drink in case patrol was particularly busy. Finally, they clipped their retractable forearm crutches into their utility belt. The aids would put less stress on their shoulders and enable them to lessen the pressure on both legs instead of just their worse one.

Before heading out, Akira texted the Mad Banquet chat that they made it to the agency. Other than Tokoyami, the others had long since arrived, train rides much shorter than their own. Tucking their phone away, Akira made their way to the cafeteria, drawing a few odd looks from the brightly colored heroes at their monochrome palette, yellow contacts providing the only splash of color.

They started heading to the self-serve feast laid out over a few counters and dispensers when Fat Gum waved them over to a table. “Based on your notes, we need to double your current base intake.” Akira startled, eyebrows shooting up. “Your quirk’s drawback isn’t as separate as your paperwork implied. My quirk has the physical limit of the fat stored in my body; my muscles alone won’t absorb hits. Your quirk doesn’t recognize the difference between fat and muscle, which is what causes the atrophy. Your idea of having a buffer is more accurate than you think. Your quirk should never have the choice between muscle and fat because which it chooses is variable.”

‘I can’t develop muscle? I need the strength and flexibility,’ Akira signed desperately.

“You can still work on muscle development,” Fat Gum clarified gently. “But we’re not talking about being a couple kilos over the average. To reliably use your quirk without the risk of starvation, you should be 45-50% body fat. It’ll take time, but your current eating structure of two main meals with snacks throughout the day is a good framework to start with.”

Fat Gum ran through the changes they’d be making and pushed over a written-out plan. Akira tried to focus, but they were reeling with how they’d maintain the plan once they were paying for it. The recipes Fat Gum gave them all required a kitchen to varying degrees, but their security deposit fund would be gone in the first week of this plan. Akira followed the hero to the feast, nodding as he pointed out everything he put on the nutrition plan and encouraged them to try what they could while here so they knew the options. Before starting to eat, Akira quickly jot down their meal and the sweet bun they had earlier, trying to ignore the twist in their gut at the amount of food.

“Are you alright?” Akira turned at Amajiki’s soft, concerned voice. Their eyes flitted to Fat Gum, who was talking with one of his ex-vigilantes off to the side.

‘Just trying to figure out how to make this work,’ Akira distractedly signed. They offered a small smile to the introverted teen, ‘I was hoping he’d be able to take a look at the plan, just wasn’t expecting… this.’

Nodding after a moment, Amajiki looked back to his own plate with a more normal amount of food but far more variety. After a few minutes of trying to do the math in their head, Akira flipped to the back of their nutrition notebook and started running numbers on their new budget range for each week while eating with their off hand. With the internship’s stipend, they would still be a few thousand yen short of a low-income security deposit by the end of next week even if they didn’t implement Fat Gum’s changes that week and ran deliveries for an extra two hours each night. Besides, with finals rapidly approaching, only getting two hours of sleep would spell disaster for their grades.

As Fat Gum walked back over, Akira closed and secured the notebook in its holster. The hero tried to start up conversation with Amajiki, but he seemed as anxious as Akira, mumbling and stuttering as the man energetically guided the conversation.

U̸̳̥͇̺̙͒͋͌͗̎͐͌n̴̩̯̜͔̮͍̗̲̤͓̏̃̇͜͝ͅw̷̢̭͎̦͎̼̤̯̫͍̘̔̽͊́̌̇̊͜ơ̸̢̛̲̞̯̰̭̻͚̮͈̾͋͗̏́̽͘͝r̴̢̡̘̱̙̼̗̮͙͓̬̫̀́t̶̛̛͈͕͕͇̝̫́̐̿̏̊͂̑̔̒͘̚͝͝h̵̢̧̜̠̟͕̼̣̀͐̿̅̊̅̾̀̇́̋ỹ̶͕̥̙̇̎͐̉̊̍͂̍ (Unworthy)

Damnit, not here. Akira subtly dropped their left hand into their lap to focus on the texture of their tassels and on eating as Fat Gum and Amajiki’s conversation faded into the background.

Y̶̛͉͑͊͋͐̒̿͝͝o̶̢̧͕͕̖̟̲̣̭͕̙̠͕̗͛u̶̼̱̙̣̗̜̙̅͛͌͒ ̸̢͍̰͉̖͔̤̤̣͚̾͑̔̈̆͑̀́̇͝͠͠r̵̨̧̡̟̹͙̙͔͓͉͉̬͕̋͠u̷͔̜͖̗̇͌͂͑̄̂i̸͇̮̯͙̞̣̇̍̋̐̐̇͐͆͂̎̓̚n̷̯̱̪̫̬̼̳̪̜͕̯̳̱̖̑ ̴̧̠̩̬̲̙̭̗̤̭̟̻̉̅̆͆͒̍̉̈́̊̓̓̎̕e̵̛̤͉̳̯̘̮͎̲͚̮̓̓̈́̂̌͐́͆̃̅̕͘͜v̵̯̱͉̱̩̻̤̟̰̈́̉̓͊̑̾͒̿̊͛͋̉͜͝ḛ̴̛̖͉̮̘̠͉̣̈̄̓̃̽͒r̴̙̱̥̙̗̈́͗́̽̋̓̋̿͐̄̒͝ÿ̷͇͈͍̥̟̥́̅͘t̷̡̢̗̣͕͖̲̖̙͕͉́̉͆̅͂̎̌̽̋͒̆̒ͅh̴̢̧͎̻͓͈̬̜̩̼͋͘͜į̷͓̻̩̖̺͙̯͙̍͝n̵̨̻̫̺͎̥͎̭̥͔̗̰̓͛́̈͂̇͠g̸̝̩̰͎̣͛̎͋̀̅ͅ ̵̡̖̟̤͖͇̝͕̯͇̭̈́͐̒̇y̷͈̲͙̣̭̺͐͒́ō̷̬̈̈͒̓̊̂͑̄̓̈̄ư̴̧̛̦͉͍͎̬̖̯̰͇̗̰͎̦̓̈̿͐͋̓̂̈́̈́̔͠͝ ̴̼̝̩̦͉̱̹̝̯̘͔̌̐̒̚͝͠t̸̡̧͕̳̺͎̑͊͌̄̔̎͗̆ǫ̵̡̝̰̙̙͕̘̦͂͋u̷̲̲̙̲̽c̷̙̙̞͎͕̖̽͌͒̀̿́̇͛̕͜h̸̼̞͕͇̱̦̅͗͐ (You ruin everything you touch)

Akira shivered, remembering the burns that often accompanied those words.

Y̴̤̎̃̿̇̋́̈́̂̑̎̿͘̕͝o̶̢͖̿̄͌̅̈͌̾̐͌̓̐̃̃͝͝ṵ̴̫̝̞̥̥͇͝’̴̡̧̙̰̲͈̘̙͈̳̳̬̮͈͇̒̐͌͋̑͝͠l̵̡̰̩̞͓̩̝͎͎̜͈̟̝̜̝͂̂͒̅͗̔͝l̴͈̬̃͌͊̄̊́̎͘̕̕ ̴͈̙̣̬͔̭̜̥͙̇̋̉̚͜͜͜ŗ̷̘͔̝̩͙̬̥̳̈́̑̄̓̅́̂̒̒̒͝ͅù̸̡̡̧̧̺̝̼͈̣̩̩̰̟̯́͒̄̕͜i̴̢̡̢̬͓͉̱͚̫̮̝̖̗͉͛̈̿̚ń̸̖̭̝̳͔̗̺̹̼̭̳̐̀͒̃̍̈́̈́̚͠ ̶̭̺̎̐͌̌͛̀̚͠t̸̡̧̘̜̝̬͚̘̻͚̬͉̻̂̾͆͝h̵̗̍̈́î̶̹͗̇̈́̏͋̏̚͘ṣ̷̰͉̖̥̲̻́̂̑̾́̎̈͜͝,̸̛̦͖͎̫̯͎͓͇̝̫̜̹͛͑͒̈̀́͗͌̚̕ ̴̢̤͍͉͇͎̮̥̝͇̠̘̇̇̈̈́͋͗̀͒̀̅̔͘t̶̘͙͚̪̭̮̑̅̔̈̉́͊̚̚͠ǫ̵͚̹͌͋̀o̷̧̹̜͕͙͎̮̮̤̘̦̾̀͜ͅ (You’ll ruin this, too)

“…quirk analysis and encoded it.” Akira looked up as they forced themself to swallow the last of their heaping plate.

“We’ll have time before patrol to start going over it and look at improving the encryption since you already have a good system for food tracking and the initial nutrition plan adjustments are done.”

Akira nodded, ‘I use the same system for practicing analysis of others, so improving it is a good idea. It only took Sun Eater fifteen minutes to decode it on the train.’

Fat Gum grinned and ruffled Amajiki’s hair despite the boy’s disgruntled look. Akira smiled as they noticed him slightly lean into the touch despite himself. “I knew you’d get it once you got out of your head!” Fat Gum praised and asked more about the process as Amajiki shrunk into his seat.

‘I think that was a compliment,’ Akira signed, briefly catching Amajiki’s downturned gaze before continuing, ‘I start with a Caesar cipher then use a Polybius square.’

“Wonderful! A two-part cipher like that would slow down would-be readers. Are you using a static or variable key? Well, the easiest way to add another layer of difficulty would be to make the Polybius key variable. It could be based on a book you like, a website or newspaper, or even a radio show. If you haven’t done so already, you’d need to start dating the pages. I’d recommend using a written material to save time looking for your daily key.”

The trio made their way to Fat Gum’s office, and Akira felt themself relax marginally at the massive window opposite the door. “When it’s just me, I do paperwork in the main area, but I thought you might enjoy the quiet more, like Tamaki.” Akira startled at the use of his first name. “While we’re patrolling, call me Fat Gum and Tamaki Suneater. When we’re off duty, I ask everyone to call me Toyomitsu or Taishiro if they’re comfortable, and my call sign is Sunny D.”

Akira nodded, ‘My call sign is Reaper if we need to communicate nonverbally off duty.’

Fat Gum pulled out a stack of forms, a few liability wavers at the top of empty reports. “Once you sign these, we can start going over what reports will look like. Tamaki and I usually don’t have to worry about property damage, but it’s good to know what that looks like in case it does occur. Even if the villain was the one causing damage, it’s important to file the report so there’s a record of what happened.”

Akira paid rapt attention as Fat Gum went over the various types of reports they might need, appreciating the extra time he took explaining ones that applied more to underground work. They were left with two hours before patrol, which they took to decide on a forum that followed Wren fights with the day of the month determining which post – sorted by recent – to pull the first five letters from. They also changed the plain text to classical Latin to add a layer of not quite encryption but difficulty… and maybe a clue for Asami to realize they were alive.

As they wrote the plain text to the side to restart encryption, Fat Gum – right, Taishiro and Amajiki read through the notes. Once Akira was primed with their keywords and square – a temporary aid to get used to the new method – Taishiro asked, “From what we’ve read so far and your talk on the train, you recently had an awakening or mutation, right?”

Akira hesitated, ‘Maybe? As you can tell from the beginning, I didn’t have enough buffer to experiment much when my quirk first manifested, so it’s possible the movement aspect of my clones didn’t have enough energy available to be noticeable.’

“The journal only dates back two years. Did you not keep track when it first manifested?” Fat Gum asked gently, curiosity shining in his eyes.

‘My quirk forcibly manifested when I was 13. With Stranger such an unknown variable in quirks, it’s possible that component was my biological quirk with an activation that would be difficult for me to encounter. The trigger fit secondary Master just as well and I have family history of it, so I originally used that classification.’

As they started re-encrypting their notebook, Akira noticed the room was completely silent and, out of the corner of their eye, they saw a paper drift back to the desk. Akira glanced up in confusion and flinched into themself at the rage in Taishiro’s eyes and horror in Amajiki’s.

“Who?” Taishiro ground out. Akira briefly glanced up, confused. “Who tortured you?”

‘Oh,’ Akira signed. ‘My family. Abuse seems to be 2 for 5 with the other kids of heroes I’ve met. Although, I don’t know if Blank counts since he was abused up until he got placed with heroes. 50/50 if he doesn’t.’

Amajiki looked sick and Taishiro’s expression softened, although his voice remained hard. “I’m going to need the name of your family and the other kid’s family, then. Preventing abuse, especially Forced Quirk Manifestation, is one of the main reasons I foster a sense of community. The kids feel safe enough to expose the underbelly groups that do it.”

Still confused, Akira flinched at the quiet fury in his voice. ‘That’s just more proof that it’s common. The other kid is Shoto Todoroki; I can guarantee his father is abusive, but I lack proof without the children’s testimonies, and their quirks point to the only potential forced manifestation being Natsuo given his weak Brute quirk. With time, Shoto could be given justice or break free, but the Commission is involved in the cover-up as usual. My family is too large and connected to reach.’

“That’s why you need to avoid the media… Just because it’s common doesn’t make it right,” Amajiki murmured.

‘I know, it’s just confusing when people are surprised by it.’

“Since they haven’t found you yet, I take it your last name isn’t Mori. So what is their name?” Taishiro pressed.

‘Like I said, it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing you can do to them, and if you refuse to work with them, that will just put more potential focus on me. I have a plan, but it’s going to take years.’ Akira huffed as they thought if I even survive that long.

“Will you at least tell me if any members of my agency are part of your family?”

Akira chuckled humorlessly, ‘Being a limelight is a requirement in the family, so none of them would dream of working under a Twilight hero.’

Something clicked in Taishiro’s eyes, and Akira straightened warily from their writing position. ‘Don’t-’

“The Wrens.”

Shit.

Notes:

Akira’s notes are in English so I could use ciphers I’m familiar with (cryptography was one of my hyperfixations) I was trying to find a call sign for Fat Gum that wouldn’t be weird when I got to Sunshine Dad, which turned into Sunny D. The D does still stand for Dad, but people are usually more comfortable shortening it to the brand name at least when they’re first taken in. Also sorry I didn't upload this yesterday; wasn't feeling well and didn't write anything for Libertias aut Mortis either 😅

Akira: panicking Amajiki: what is wrong with this child Fat Gum: I’ve got another kid! Akira: casually mentions trauma Amajiki.exe has stopped working Fat Gum: who do I need to kill

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

2 notes · View notes

phantom-0-writer · 7 months

Text

the case of the serial killer

3476 words (that was not suppose to happen lol - please send help)

ao3

Dick sat in front of his desk, eyes glazing over the same two lines for the nth time. He let out a tired sigh, and massaged his temples as he leaned back in his chair.

The Bludhaven Police Department had been investigating the recent serial killings for the past month and a half, with Dick heading the case. Not that it was anything too out of left feild for Dick, he handled plenty of cases like this during his long run as Robin and even in his more recent years as Nightwing. Finding the clues, and piecing together the perfect picture came second nature to him at this point.

The issue Dick was dealing with right now in fact had nothing to do with the case, instead it was something -or someone else. That someone, Danny No-Last-Name-For-You-Officer.

The first time Dick had run into him he was doing his rounds when he caught some kids getting into a fight. Naturally he stopped in and the kids that had been trying to start a fight ran away at the sight of his uniform and car. Danny had been a little roughed up by then, but mostly unharmed.

“Are you okay, kid?” Dick asked, kneeling to meet the kid eye-to-eye.

Danny had looked at him with a defiance he wasn’t used to seeing in someone that wasn’t a cape, “I didn’t do anything.” He said instead of responding, pulling himself up to his feet.

“Okay,” Dick nodded calmly, not wanting to frighten the kid. He stood up slowly, with his hands in view, “Are you hurt? I could patch you up, real quick, make sure nothing gets infected.” Danny wore ratty clothes, they had been nice once upon a time, but their time had long passed.

Danny eyed him suspiciously, “No, I’m fine.” He said more calmly now. Roughly around the age of 15 to 17. Older than Damian, but younger than Tim.

Taking his chance, “You got a name kid?”

“Danny.”

“No last name?” Dick asked with a knowing smirk, letting himself appear more playful.

“Not for you.” Danny gave him a mischievous smirk. Dick could tell the kid could clean up nice, but circumstances seemed unfortunate.

Dick laughed at his response, to let him know that he wasn’t in any hot water. Danny watched him, waiting for his next move. “You hungry, Danny?” Dick asked casually, trying not to stare at the way the hoodie he was wearing sagged on his shoulders.

“I’m a growing boy, I’m always hungry.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. Dick laughed again, more genuine this time.

“Alright, my treat. Let’s go.” Dick said, gesturing as he led the boy to his car.

“What?” He asked, surprised, Dick turned around to look at him when he didn’t follow. “Why?”

“You’re a growing boy.” Dick echoed. Danny snorted, but followed after him nonetheless. Dick put on the GPS on his phone, even though he knew the way as Danny sat in the passenger seat.

They spent the next hour together, falling into a steady rhythm of conversation and joking. After their first meeting, Danny and Dick ran into each other more. The grocery store, playground, library, school, so on. For the first 2 weeks it had been coincidental, but slowly Dick found himself looking forward to their random meetings, happy to see that the kid was doing alright.

That had been until the first murder had happened.

It had been raining, colder than the weather usually was around this time of year, the streets mostly empty. Dick had been doing his usual rounds on patrol, wondering how Danny was doing like he always did.

The world has a strange way of giving you what you want.

As Dick turned around the corner, he slammed his brakes hard at the figure who had been standing in the middle of the road. Dick got out of his car, leaving it on the side of the road when the person didn’t move. As he got closer dread filled Dick’s gutt as he made out the figure to be a cold, drenched Danny clenching his chest.

“Danny!” Dick called, rushing over to the boy. As Dick got closer he noticed the boy looked pale and his lips were turning blue.

“Dick.” Danny said hollowly, his voice barely audible over the loud rain. Danny turned to look at him with a shaken and horrified expression.

Dick held his shoulder firmly, leading him to the car and out of the rain. Danny allowed it without protest, which only caused Dick to worry more. “What happened?” He asked once the boy had huddled himself under the blanket Dick kept in his car (he had gotten it after the second time he met Danny during patrol, the boy always seemed cold).

Danny turned to him, “He’s dead.” He answered morbidly.

“Who?” Dick asked concerned, he didn’t think the boy had a father or brother present, at least not one that he had mentioned.

“I dunno. Just some guy.” No one he knew then.

“Danny, buddy. Can you explain what you saw.” Dick tried again.

Danny took a shaky breath, “I was just heading home, y’know, from the library. And I heard a scream, so I went to go check it out. And it was a guy just laying there in a pool of blood.” Danny looked down at his own hands, his fingers stained in red.

“Can you tell me where?”

“Around the corner, across from Susan’s.” Danny said quietly. He must have been really shaken up seeing it, it wasn’t exactly normal to see a bloodied body during your regularly scheduled activities.

Dick could go there later as Nightwing to investigate, but right now he had bigger things to deal with. “Alright, put your seatbelt on.” Dick said, putting the car in drive. Danny, not fully there, quietly did as Dick asked. At the next redlight, Dick called the Chief and let her know about the potential murder case and that he would be calling off for the night. He’d probably have to bring Danny in for his testimony, but that was later.

As the light turned green Dick looked over at his passenger again to find Danny already fast asleep, heater blaring in his face. Dick smiled softly at the sight as he drove them to his apartment.

After Dick parked his car he hesitated for a moment before deciding to wake Danny up so he could shower and maybe eat something. He could borrow some of Tim’s clothes.

“Hm.” Danny blinked barely at Dick, “We're are we?” He asked looking around at the parking garage.

“My place. C’mon lets get you cleaned up.” Dick unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car.

Danny blinked at him in surprise, “What? Why are we at your place?”

“Well considering I don’t know where you live, I had to take you somewhere.” Dick shrugged casually, letting the kid think Dick didn’t know he was homeless was better than him thinking Dick was pitying him. Danny would not appreciate pity.

Danny didn’t retort, a true sign of how weary he was.

Dick made a quick dinner. You can’t go wrong with pasta and air fried chicken. While the food finished cooking Dick busied himself in random mundane activities, not wantong Danny to find him looking over a case when he got out of the shower. Dick pulled out an old cookbook he’d gotten for his highschool graduation, a gag gift from Wally, when something between the pages fell out.

Picking it up Dick saw an old photo, one of him standing between his parents proudly after one of their performances. Sometimes Dick would feel a deep sadness when he looked at pictures of his parents and realized he had forgotten their faces, their mannerisms and their laughs. But this time, when Dick looked at the picture and saw his dad smiling at the camera next to his mom, he remembered Danny. It was strange how Danny had the same cowlick as his mom, same nose arch as his dad, a jawline that looked like his almost, before his larger muscle definition came into play. At the time that line of thought had been disturbed by Danny walking back into the living room and stubbing his tie on the foot of Dick’s sofa.

After that Dick had made sure they had each other’s numbers. He called Danny anytime the weather was bad, or it was cold, or there was too much food at his house or whatever random reason he could come up with.

After about a week of Dick calling Danny over, Danny came over on his own one night.

Dick was dressed in his Nightwing suit about to head out for the night when he heard the front door rattling. Realizing someone was trying to break into his apartment and knowing that it wasn’t his siblings (they would’ve used the window) Dick quickly threw his domino under his blanket and threw on the first pair of sweats he could find, just in time for the door to open. Slipping a small pocket knife into his hands, Dick positioned himself to get a good view of the living room where the trespasser still was.

Getting ready to get the jump on the trespasser Dick happened to get a good look at and noticed the familiar mop of black hair, and overfilled school bag by the door. Coming into view, letting his hands relax by his side, “Danny?” he breathed confused and relieved.

“‘Sup.” He nodded casually before noticing Dick’s appearance. “Your pants are backwards.” He commented candidly. Dick could feel himself flush in embarrassment, but that seemed to send the wrong impression on Danny, The younger boy leaned in to whisper to him, “You got a special friend over?” He raised an intrigued brow at Dick.

“What?” Dick spluttered “No.”

“Sad.” Danny shook his head in disappointment, making his way to the dining table and plopped his stuff on a chair and pulled out a few well-used notebooks. “The library closed early today, so I thought why not break into the local cop's place. I got a paper due tomorrow.” He explained half serious, half joking. “You don’t have to worry about me if you were about to head out somewhere.” How had he known?

“Uh, yeah I was just going-” Think, Dick. “-Get groceries.” Dick internally winced at the suspicious brow Danny gave him.

“At 10:30 PM?”

“Yes.” All that Bat training, and for what?

Danny blinked, “Cool.” he said dismissively, turning back to his homework.

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth Dick left his apartment stuffing his weapons into an old travel bag he had on hand and changing in the empty elevator.

When he got home from his patrol (earlier than he normally would’ve) remembering to buy the aforementioned groceries for some semblance of a cover story he found Danny fast asleep over scattered papers on the dining table. Putting away the perishables, Dick picked Danny up (who snuggled into his chest at the contact - yes, Dick was definitely completely okay after that) and laid him on the spare bed he kept on hand for his siblings.

The next few times Danny snuck into his house (Dick had offered him a key, but Danny had refused) things had gone similarly if not slightly more smoothly until the completely predictable and unavoidable happened.

Dick was halfway through his usual route as Nightwing, stopping a few muggings, and investigating the serial killer case some more. There were almost 9 different murders at this point with seemingly no similarities between the victims, other than the method of death. After going through the most recent crime scene Dick’s heard his phone go off. It surprised him slightly since he usually keeps it on silent, but he was alone so no harm no foul.

It was a message from Danny, it was probably a meme or funny video he had found. Dick could use a pick me up after another crime scene bust so he opened it. The message was not what he had been expecting.

Danno: sos? Danno: im at ur place

Fearing the worst, Dick dialed his number. Danny hung up before the first ring, which did nothing for his nerves. Rushing in the direction of his apartment, not even bothering to do anything about the costume he was wearing, the worst scenarios rushed through Dick’s mind.

When his apartment was in view the first thing Dick noticed was the open window that he most certainly had not left open. Quietly slipping onto the fire escape Dick peered through to see the scene. The only light that was still on was the living room light, likely where Danny was, but Dick easily noticed the hulking figure in the kitchen. He was easily too tall, and too muscular to be Danny. The figure moved slightly and the shape of a gun could be seen in his hands.

Not wasting any time, Dick expertly slipped through the open window and tackled the figure to the floor, arm held at his back and escrima stick at his assailant's neck.

“What the fuck-” The figure said startled at Dick’s unexpected attack,

Now with a better view Dick was able to see the familiar red helmet and leather jacket the assailant wore, “Jason?” Dick asked, surprised.

“I thought we were past this. Y’know let bygones be bygones, or whatever.” Jason joked easily, wiggling his way out Dick’s slacking grip.

The situation finally unfolded in front of Dick. Danny had been in his apartment and Jason as Red Hood had also come to his apartment. Danny thought someone had broken in, and Jason also thought someone had broken in. Was Jason about to shoot Danny? Where was Danny?

Quickly getting up, and ignoring Jason’s earlier remark he walked through the kitchen and into the living room, “Danny?” He called, not wanting to scare the kid.

Jason gave him a confused look, but came to an understanding on his own when the familiar teenager peeped out from behind the couch holding a knife in his hands. His expression only became more shocked after he saw Dick, and it took Dick a second too long to remember that he was still wearing his Nightwing costume.

“Aw shit.”

Danny blinked at him, regaining his composure and pointing the knife at Jason, “Friend of yours?”

After all the explanations had been explained they all sat around the couch, a stack of empty pizza boxes between them.

“You saw me with a gun and you decided you could take me with a knife?” Jason scoffed at Danny, helmet left forgotten under the table.

“I could take you without the knife.” Danny rolled his eyes, taking the last slice of pizza.

“Big talk.” Jason puffed out his chest in some strange show of alpha male behavior.

“Are you askin’ for a fight?” Danny challenged.

Fearing the direction the conversation was taking Dick stepped in “Alright, you’re both pretty. Let’s break it up.”

That had just been last week.

Two days ago Dick had gotten a call from Danny. Danny usually didn’t call, preferring to text, but would usually answer when Dick called,

“Hey, Dickface.” Danny greeted snottily. Dick noticed he was out of breath.

“Hey, Danny. What’s up?”

“You got the night shift today?” Night Shift was what Danny had taken to calling his vigilant duties. There was a lot of movement on Danny’s end of the phone, but Danny was always moving around so Dick hadn’t thought it was weird.

“Yup. Whatcha’ up to?” Dick asked curiously, cleaning up his mess from dinner, leaving Danny’s portion in the fridge for later. The fridge was more stocked than it had been since Dick had moved in, he had purposely bought food that Danny would like, and the boy had finally begun filling out his skeleton.

“Oh y’know, cardio. Getting those steps in.” He let out a winded chuckle, “When you get the chance, check out the warehouse on 12th street later tonight. The one with the cracked pavement outside.”

“You got a lead?” Dick asked surprised, “From where?” He was suspicious, just curious.

“A friend of mine told me. Thought you should know.” There was a thud in the background, like something hit metal.

“You okay?” Dick asked concerned.

“Yeah, it was a cat.” He said easily, Danny let out a hiss of annoyance, “Gotta go, Later.” He hung up before Dick could say anything else.

Dick let out a tired sigh. The kid had grown on him like fungus. Though not entirely unappreciated, Dick was not ready to hear his siblings' inevitable comments on how he took after Bruce. Didn’t help that Danny happened to fit the profile.

The warehouse had given them a few clues, but they still weren’t any closer to finding the serial killer.

Danny hadn’t come by the apartment after that phone call. Or responded to any of Dick’s texts.

This morning when he was getting dressed he got a call from the precinct. It was still 30 minutes before his shift.

“Grayson, this is Officer Gomez, the Chief wants you in as earliest as you can get here,” Officer Gomez spoke urgently.

“I can be there in 15.” He reported, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his keys.

“Alright.” Gomez hung up.

As soon as he got in the doors the Chief was waiting for him by the entrance. “Took your sweet time, huh Grayson.” she chided.

“Dunno what you mean, Chief. I’m 15 minutes early.” He gave her a charming smile, and the Chief rolled her eyes.

“There’s been a development in your case.” The Chief started as they walked together, Dick nodded at her in acknowledgement. But the Chief hesitated, before speaking again. That was unlike her. “There was another murder victim found, in the east district. Our night crew got an alert.”

Most of the victims had been in the west district, based on the location south may have been a more appropriate transition. It could be a coincidence or it meant the killer had a personal vendetta against these people, or maybe just the victim from the east district. It felt like all the pieces Dick had managed to put together were falling apart again.

“Our latest victim was a male, caucasian potential of mixed descent, age estimated around 15 to 17,” that was younger than the other had been, “black hair, blue eyes, roughly 5’ 5”.” The chief turned to look at him now, “goes to Westwood High School, prefers juice to soft drinks, always feels cold to touch,”

Dick looked at Chief in confusion, these were incredibly specific descriptions, and they sounded awfully familiar.

She continued, “He lets his hot chocolate get cold before he drinks it,” Danny had done that once when Dick had brought him in for his testimony. “And he plucks the marshmallows out of it with a fork, and called it a snowman.”

No.

“You keep extra snacks for him in the glove box of your car even though it’s against protocol,”

No,

Dick hands were clammy when he pulled out his phone from his pocket. Personal use of devices was strictly against the rules. Chief said nothing. Dick found Danny’s contact easily in his recents tab. He held it up to his ear waiting for the kid on the other side to answer with his usual “What can I do ya’ for officer.” or some iteration of the classic “Hey, Dickface.”

It went to voicemail.

Danny always answered his phone, and when he didn’t he would text Dick a reason within the next five minutes. So he waited.

It had been 10 minutes already. Why wasn’t he responding?

Dick called him again. Voicemail.

Nononono. Not again.

How was it that Dick was always too slow.

Too slow to save his parents.

Too slow to get to Jason in time.

And now too slow to solve this case.

Dick Grayson was a failure in every way that mattered.

He looked at the familiar body ready to be put into an ice chamber for further examination in the morgue.

“Go home for the day, Grayson.”

Go home and do what?

Danny’s notes were still sprawled over the coffee table. He said he had a test next week. Danny’s food was still in the fridge. His bed was still a mess, and his clothes were on the floor.

“Give me the case files. I’ll look over them again.” He didn’t recognize his voice when he spoke, he wasn’t even sure it was his. Chief didn’t argue, handing over the files.

The day had gone by and Dick was still stuck in front of his double monitor desk, pictures and words blurring together in nonsensical smudges on the screen.

“Grayson.” Chief called him. Dick looked up, catching a glimpse of the dark night sky from the glass doors. How long had he been here?

“Yeah?” He responded dryly.

“Head home.”

Dick wasn’t sure when he had gotten to the front of his apartment, only realizing he had when the keys jiggled loudly missing the keyhole on the door.

When he got inside he found Jason sitting casually on the couch, reading a book. “Oh Honey, you’re home.” He joked.

Dick couldn’t find it in himself to laugh.

Danny’s papers flew from the wind of the open window. Dick closed it. When he didn’t pick up the papers, Jason bent down to do it. “Anyways, where’s the kid? Didn’t you want me to help him with his homework or someshit. I need to beat it into his head that I’m better at him.” Jason said the last part loudly, letting it echo through the house in case Danny was hiding in its crevices.

Dick turned to him, Jason looked back at him for a long moment before the mischievous look slipped from his eyes. “Dick, where’s the kid?”

There was a deafening silence in the apartment.

“He’s dead.” The table under Jason’s hands let out a loud crunch, as his face darkened.

Before Jason could breathe an air of the threat of murder that was definitely ready to roll from his tongue, there was a quiet clatter in the kitchen.

“Who’s dead?” Danny asked, appearing in the living room with a large bowl of cereal he was shoveling into his mouth.

------------

table of contents