Conflict of Interest

[Dick Grayson]

It was a shame that Dick Grayson refused to take on some of the characteristics of his Nightwing alter-ego. The blonde beat-cop remained cowardly, humorous and, quite often, a bit of a pussy. He didn’t particularly care just what he was perceived as, but he knew that if he practiced some of the bolder qualities of his masked, enraged self. Today was one of those days where Dick wished that he hadn’t adopted the mask and glocks. He sat, waiting for the drug shipment to pull into the alleyway. His cowardice in his day-job did, occasionally, allow him to nip a problem in the bud. Yes, Dick Grayson would display the dispatch of police to the scene. He did not, however, comment on vigilantes.

Especially vigilantes with an agenda.

Scarzone was personally coming to this shipment. His blue eyes caught the jittery expression of the cops that stood at the start of the alley; keeping guard for pay. It was despicable and 100% his fault. He stayed in the shadows of the fire escape at the large building. His facial features behind the mask had adopted the intimidating mannerisms of the hooded new scourge of organized crime. He had two silencers attached to his guns. The dark, metallic, weapons held a dimmed gleam from the flickering, florescence of the street lights and signs from the adjoining street. His lips lifted into a smirk as he saw a trio of suited men enter the alley.

“You got it?” the average looking man, said with the authoritative voice of Scarzone.

“Yeah,” came the voice from the corner, opening a crate that revealed a shocking amount of cocaine. Soon to be distributed to Gotham’s dealers and the underbelly to the junkies.

Nightwing’s jaw clenched, fully losing the good-nature of Dick Grayson as he watched Scarzone step forward to inspect the shipment. The hood drown over his head obscured his features even more than the mask while he turned off the safety. He quickly shot at one of the cops in the shoulder. He watched as they went to his aid. Scarzone nodded to his men, who both went to check. Nightwing picked off the thugs, getting each in the neck. He didn’t allow a smirk to himself and instead flung himself off the fire escape and landed on his feet perfectly. His eyes caught the terrified expression on Scarzone and the drug lord’s face and finally his lips parted. “Busted,” he said calmly.

He shot at the drug lord, getting the man in the throat and sending him to the ground. He pulled a switchblade and got Scarzone in the Achiles tendon. Both were down and Nightwing stood from his crouched position and removed the silencers from his guns and walked to the only surviving gangster and reached for his throat; lifting him with his hand clutched around his jugular. He pounded the man against the wall. “Aww c’mon, it’s not your fault,” he said, referring to the short meeting Dick had with the gangster, “sometimes people are just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He brought his unsilenced gun to Scarzone’s stomach as realization hit the mobster’s face. A gunshot sounded and the well dressed corpse slumped to the ground just as the remaining police officers came, pointing their guns at Nightwing. He pulled his switchblade from the man’s leg and pocketed it. He coldly looked at the cops while his lips curled into a sneer. His holstered glocks remained where they were now. The sound of sirens signified that they had called backup.

Damn.

[Mary-Lou White]

Mary-Lou White loved working the graveyard shift. There was a lot to be said from the cool calm and collectiveness that nighttime brought with it, like an old married couple showing up to a family dinner. She felt comfortable sitting at her desk in the bull pen, catching up on her incident reports, working the files and drinking her decaf skinny lattes. The few others who had pulled the late one with her usually grumbled and went back and forth between their desks, the coffee machine and the kitchenette where they reheated leftovers or tv dinners full of questionable nutrition. The perky blonde Detective offered one of her colleagues a discerning look of commiseration as he wandered back to his desk with a cup of ramen as she bit into a lusciously juicy red apple. She had only just begun to crunch on the soft flesh when a crackle over the scanner startled her back into reality. This was Gotham, and in Gotham crime never slept or had respect for cops’ meal breaks.

Swallowing the lump of apple desperately, Mary-Lou jumped up from her desk as the code was called. This was serious and the docks were close – a real assignment. The adrenaline immediately began to ebb into her bloodstream, her heartbeat quickened and she made it through the door with two other cops who cared enough to leave the coziness of the building this late at night. With her holster in place around her girlish hips and her jeans and pink tee combo making her seem more like Police Officer Barbie than anyone who took her job seriously. As she snatched a protective vest from the hooks that they passed on their way to the elevator, one of the men she was with gave her the once over.

“Jesus, White,” he said to her, his done depreciating even though his eyes were on her like a rash. “What are you going to do – flash the perp into submission.”

Previously all smiles, Mary-Lou rounded on him, her prim and proper demeanor evident through the prissy pursing of her lips. “That’s no way to speak to a lady,” she reminded him tartly. Both of the cops in the elevator with her laughed as they shot down to the ground floor. The door opened with a ‘ding’ and Mary-Lou started to jog for the exit, leaving her contempories lagging behind. It just served them right with their coffee-donut-and-cigarette diets! It would serve them right if I just got in the car and left them here, Mary-Lou thought to herself, but she didn’t have it in her nature to follow through with the incredibly diabolical plans her mind created. Sliding into the driver’s side of the squad car she waited a full minute for the pair to saunter out into the lot and join her. Her normally warm eyes were glacial as she turned the key, flipped the lights and sirens on and zoomed down the street, out to the call location. “Buckle up,” she reminded them both, lifting her spare hand to fuss with her hair.

“Why?” the other cop, Johnson, asked insolently from the back seat. “You gonna be driving someone other than Miss Daisy tonight, sweetheart?”

Without any indication, Mary-Lou slammed one of her sneakered feet onto the brake pedal, sending the squad car to a screaming halt a ways down the road. Without his seatbelt on, Johnson was thrown forward and face-planted into the safety glass screening that was used to keep the criminals enclosed. Smirking, Mary-Lou took off again, not bothering to see how the poor guy was. “You see?” she asked Haines, the guy next to her, with an innocent look. “That’s what happens when you don’t wear your seatbelt. Haines shifted closer to his door with a worried look on his face, and immediately clicked his buckle home. “Wise choice,” Mary-Lou complimented him. Maybe Susie was starting to rub off on her just a little.

It was hard to be a decent, law-abiding Christian in Gotham, where sin tempted you around every corner (and then consequently mugged, raped or murdered you – or even all three). Mary-Lou was a simple gal with simple needs, and she didn’t like people breaking rules that conflicted with her wholesome upbringing. She had often thought that moving to the big city would be an adventure and open up her mind to reality a lot more than living back home in Tiny Town USA would ever allow her to bear witness too. What she hadn’t counted on and probably didn’t realise was that she was, one-by-one, teaching the jerks of Gotham a few darn good manners.

The ride was short and they pulled up to the alley where the carnage had been reported in record time. Sliding the cruiser around the corner and to the mouth of the alley, Mary-Lou immediately saw a pack of cops – one dead - and a few other bodies beyond her immediate line of sight. A deep breath exploded from her lips as she remembered her brother who had been killed in the line of duty. It’s okay, she told herself. Do your job. She was out of the car before she realised it, pulling her weapon from its holster and running towards the mouth of the alley with it held with both hands down low to her right. She paused on the right side of the alley, turning to look where the rest of the back-up was when she heard the screech of the tyres as the squad car took off back the way it had come. Those bastards! They had obviously known about this call all along. She looked helplessly to the other cops, an unspoken apology in her eyes. One of them, bent over the man who was dead, looked back at her. A split second before he fired his gun, Mary-Lou saw the determination in his eyes and ducked in the nick of time. The bullet zoomed past her and she was quick to answer with retribution. He tumbled over on top of his fallen friend and she took off down the alley, intent on getting away from them and watching for the killer at once and feeling that she was more than a tad out of her league.2

[Dick Grayson]

Nightwing had gone straight up the fire escape he had come; counting on the cloak of darkness to hide him. He leapt to the next available fire escape, landing in a tumble and favoring his right as usual. He watched from his perch as the cop car came and he heard the distinct sound of a cruiser door closing and then the peel-out of tires. Gotham’s finest. He felt the temptation to scoff but knew he would blow his cover. He drew his gun, fully prepared to shoot down whatever cop came to help these cronies. He hesitated when he heard a lighter set of feet than what he was used to. His jaw clenched when he spotted the edge of pink and a shock of blonde. Of all the nights Dick Grayson had to do good, he had somehow put one of the very few coworkers he tolerated in danger.

His jaw set further when he heard the gunshot and he started to follow. Jumping ledge to ledge as Mary Lou White fired and took off. He hoped she did the opposite of her first instincts and refrained from radioing for backup. That was, after all, what caused this problem in the first place. He spotted the two cops start to catch up to Detective White and Nightwing finally started to take action just as he started to hear another cop car. This one would not just drop off one of the good ones to the slaughter. More beat cops. He was sure of it.

He fired a shot from his gun. The ka-pow of it sounded crisply in the blood-staled air of the alley. His lips curled into a snarl as the unmarked cop-car screeched to a halt and another pair of cops exited the car. He fired two more times, hitting one cop in the inside of his thigh and getting the other in the forearm of his dominant hand. He dove to the pavement below, landing heavily on his right before turning to see Mary-Lou and made a brash decision as he fired again at the original approaching cops.

“Aww c’mon guys, that’s not fair,” he said dryly as he fired again. He had to pretend he had never seen Mary-Lou before as opposed to how he was every day. When the two started firing more rapidly, Nightwing felt the tug to make another decision. He snatched Mary Lou's arm and started to pull her along and towards one of the buildings as they met the sidewalk. His other hand continually firing at their persuers.

[Mary-Lou White]

The tell-tale wail of another cop car caused Mary-Lou to look over her shoulder, her blonde ponytail whipping around her like the tail of a wild thing in flight. The menacing slaps behind her as the corrupt cops raced after her spurred her onwards and she pelted down the alley, glad for the second time tonight that her diet and exercise regimes were a cut above most of those adopted by her colleagues. The newest car to arrive screamed to a halt at the mouth of the alley and the two men within wasted no time in joining the chase for both the original enemy and now Detective White. Her ragged breath, forced through her mouth by her rapidly expanding lungs, had covered the minute noises made by the masked mystery up until now, and the explosion of his gun-fire stopped her in her tracks. Mary-Lou instinctively skidded to a stop and flung herself low and flush to one of the walls of the alley, crouching on the cop-side of the narrow laneway behind a trash can. They were too far away to see her for the time being. Was this new person firing at her or them?

Seeing nothing coming at her Mary-Lou looked in the direction that the shots were following. The two new cops were down. Suddenly a man – or was it a man? – landed on the litter-strewn pavement beside her, throwing a quick, almost reassuring glance in her direction before he opened fire on the remaining stooges. Mary-Lou felt her mouth form a small, surprise ‘o’ before she clamped it shut and checked her ammo. If he was all the back-up she had, then she would just have to trust him and vice versa. His cheeky cat-call bolstered her confidence, almost feeling as though he thought this was a game. She raised herself up on her haunches and managed to squeeze off one round that missed before the stranger latched into her lower arm and began to drag her further back into the alley.

Well, she thought wryly in the back of her mind, At least he knows how to protect a girl. Why is it every guy who actually has manners in this town has something else holding me back?

Getting the drift of where he was attempting to move them to, Mary-Lou managed to twist her arm out of his grip. Firing off a few rounds to marry with his, she managed to hit one of the remaining cops that were pelting down the alley after them, leaving one in hot pursuit. Being closer to the doorway of the alley she was more sheltered, and when the dirt cop fired back she noticed that the masked stranger was right in the line of fire. Without thinking she reached out, grabbing his arm and yanking him towards her. His weight as he shifted pulled her off balance and she stumbled backwards into the wall even as the last pursuer fell to one of the tough-guy’s bullets.

[Dick Grayson]

Dick Grayson was never particularly good at games. He grew up in a house where the performance was everything and teamwork was key, yes, but the idea that he thought anything was really a game after the murder of his family was just ridiculous. Yes the police officer had some sort of playful quip for just about everything but that didn’t mean he found Gotham, at large, fun. But in the game of revenge, Dick Grayson was slowly starting to find a bit of a knack for. He felt a slight wave of relief as Mary-Lou pulled her arm away and got with the program. Hopefully she’d save the accusations about what he’d done to Scarzone and the drug lord for later.

Now would be a very bad time to play “who did what” or “Who did you kill”.

Nightwing checked his ammo of his gun when his blonde accomplice started firing again. He resumed firing; letting his custom made bullets fly at the cops that had taken a somewhat more despicable route than Officer Grayson had. But he kept firing, feeling no sympathy for these people as he emptied another round. He tried not to look concern as he heard the sounds of more sirens. He regained balance when Mary-Lou pulled him out of the path of a bullet. “Thanks,” he said gruffly as he evened his stance again. He pulled out the empty sleeve of his glock and pulled out a new cartridge. The clack provided the “go-ahead” as he started firing again; nailing one of the cops in the shoulders.

Another cop car approached the far end of the block followed by a van of Scarzone’s men. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath as he turned quickly in order block Mary-Lou from gunfire. Now, normally he would have had no problem letting a cop fend for themselves. Unfortunately this was probably the only person on the force that didn’t feel the need to constantly roll her eyes at Dick every time he was caught goofing off or slacking and had no problem just talking with the last Grayson when his mood seemed a little off. He felt a few thunking blows as a couple rounds hit the Kevlar vest beneath his black jacket. His hood flew back, revealing his masked features.

His jaw clenched as he waited for that moment where he heard the sleeves fall from the cops’ guns. Rapidly, his glocks started firing, the brief flash of gunfire sounded while his teeth grit. He rushed forward, sheathing the guns in their harnesses as he rushed forward and drew his billy-club. He whacked it across the cop’s jaw and then brought a fist to smash at his face. The iron covered knuckles collided with his nose and rewarded him with a crunch. His gloved hands clutched the cop by his hair and threw him at the other injured crooked officer. He pulled his glock again and fired two shots. He looked quickly towards the approaching vehicles. His icy blue eyes caught the red and blue flash of the newest cop car. He rushed over to Mary-Lou and nodded to the door of the building they had just taken cover by. “C’mon,” he said as he kicked open the door to the abandoned building and kept his gun at the ready in case the entourage of cars sped up.

[Mary-Lou White]

The wishy-washy blonde by the side of the masked man had never been much of a go-get-‘em cop. She did her job to the best of her ability but she wasn’t strong, tough or particularly clever, and she knew it. Her shortfalls only served to egg Mary-Lou onwards in her desperate attempt to prove to her parents that she was every inch the White her brother had been and although she got the distinct impression that she was fighting a losing battle she was determined to go down in a blaze of glory (or similar) in any event. The helpless feeling that overtook her when she heard more cops arriving left a sinking sensation in her tummy. What would it do to her parents if she were to die in the line of duty just like her brother had?

Taking her lead from the mysterious fighter by her side Mary-Lou took a second to slip another clip into her police-issue .45. The rain of bullets that ended with a thus in the back of her masked back-up enticed a small, girlish squeal from her, her eyes widening in shock as she though her chances of leaving the alley alive had just died with him. When his hood slipped back to reveal the true extent of his mask she gasped again, not having been fully prepared for the intensity of his eyes or the snarl that seemed evident in his voice but which had remained ambiguous in reality up until that point. It was then that she realised he wasn’t injured and she froze, watching in awe as he rushed the cops and exacted precise punishment on them in the form of club, hands and gun.

Mary-Lou felt like she was watching a movie and that this couldn’t be truly happening to her; she had never seen anything like him in her life! She was startled out of her thoughts and back into her body as he kicked in the door, sending shards of wood splintering inwards as he ushered her through the door before him. Too stunned to resist, Mary-Lou moved through the proffered opening and took off, running through the expanse of dusty interior and leaping over low stacks of wooden crates left over from whoever had vacated the premises.

The sound of bullets behind her seemed to fade as she kept on running, unsure of how to proceed, what to do or who to turn to. In a culture that wanted you to believe that all of your friends wore black uniforms it was hard now to trust someone who looked like he should be the criminal and run from the people in black. She felt the familiar sting of tears welling behind her eyes as she rang and she stopped at the elevator, smashing her hand into the button that would bring the old contraption up from the basement before she turned to look at the man who had saved her life. The smattering of gunfire ceased for a moment as the whine of the elevator took over and Mary-Lou fidgeted with her gun anxiously, lifting a hand to wipe away the one tear that had escaped its confines before daring any more to follow. She needed to keep it together. She needed to survive this.

“Could you please hurry up?” she called as the elevator stopped and the doors opened, her voice tainted with the nerves of waiting in the dark for someone who could already be dead, with her soon to follow.

[Dick Grayson]

He exhaled a heavy breath, revealing that maybe he was human for the first time that night. He already started to feel the bruise marks from the impact of the bullets against Kevlar swell on his torso. He pulled the hood up again as he kept his glock at the ready and set the billy-club back on his side holster. A piece of blonde hair fell into his eyes beneath the shadow of the hood. His face hardened as he felt a twinge of pain in his left leg. Not now, he thought to himself as he kept watch; firing at the tire of the window of Scarzone’s thugs. God he hoped none of these jackasses were ambitious enough to take over the business. He didn’t need Dick’s list to lengthen further and prolong his time as Nightwing. For some reason, he had the distinct feeling that he wouldn’t be able to do this for a long period of time. He was no Batman.

He fired a few more warning shots and disappeared into the building, following Detective White to the elevator. His glock .45 remained poised still as he waited. His breath steadied as he approached the blonde. He twisted his neck from one side to the neck, hearing the air pop out of the cramp in his neck. His brow stayed furrowed beneath his mask and his lips stayed clenched in a serious expression. He approached the elevator; the wall that was joined with the elevator allowed him a moment to collect himself.

His eyes cast to the corners to catch Mary-Lou’s expression and the frantic way she pressed the button. The tears that threatened the corner of her eyes. As Dick Grayson, he wanted to say something that would cut the tension and reward a smile. As Nightwing, he remained quiet. His black gloved trigger-finger itched to shoot something. The adrenaline pumped through his veins and he couldn’t realize why the hell everything moved so slow in moments like these. He thanked the cloak of the shadows to hide his features as he backed into the elevator and slammed the button with his fingers to shut the doors, which complied slowly.

The inside of the elevator was bathed with light as the customary boring music played in its low quality speakers. He picked one of the top floors rather than the roof. He went to the opposite corner of the small space as he knew the elevator, old and rickety, had some time. He slid down the corner into a crouch as he checked the sleeve of the gun. Still enough before his next refill. He collected his breath again as he slid his glock into his harness and drew his switchblade; still caked with Scarzone’s blood. He started the pry the bullets from the wholes in his black leather jacket. “You okay?” he asked simply as he tried to focus his attention on getting out the casings.

[Mary-Lou White]

When she saw him come striding out of the shadows into the dodgy bean of light from the elevator, Mary-Lou was flooded with relief. As the doors to the elevator closed behind them she took in a long shaky breath, letting it out in a rush of warm air that threatened to steam in the cold shaft. More than likely the perps would be hastily breaking their deal and making a run for it. They might take the bodies with them but it wouldn’t do any good; Mary-Lou had a great memory and now had the name of each crooked cop that had fallen scorched into her reluctant memory bank. The music that trickled through the rasping speakers mocked the severity of their situation and Mary-Lou shut her eyes tight, squeezing out the threat of more tears before looking at the person in the lift with her face schooled into a look of nervous determination.

“I’m fine thanks,” she told him. Her voice was confident even if her hands shook as she temporarily holstered her weapon. Her bangs had managed to worm their way out from the grasp of her ponytail and she tucked them behind her ears, leaning heavily against the wall as she wanted him take inventory of his weapons and collected shrapnel. For a few seconds there was nothing to break the monotonous hum of the elevator as it climbed barring the ‘tingting’ of casings as they popped onto the floor, and Mary-Lou decided that now was the time for some answers. “Excuse me,” she said politely, definitely not wanting to irritate someone who’s body count for the night was already in double figures. “But who are you? What happened back there? Are they coming after us?”

[Dick Grayson]

He took a moment to collect himself. The adrenaline still thudding through his veins as he picked out casing after casing. Each distinct clack against the floor of the elevator allowed him just that much more room to breathe despite the claustrophobic feeling that threaded with the confined space of their mode of transportation and the hood over his head. He didn’t dare pull that hood back now. Not with Mary-Lou in such a close quarters with him and the light blaring down against his black garb. Instead he focused on calming himself while he dug out the last bullet. He smiled to himself underneath his hood when he heard the blonde speak. She sounded as confident as ever while he noted the slight tremor in her hand. There was no way to remedy it, in his opinion. There was never anything particularly welcoming about his appearance unless he took off his mask. Which wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

He brought his gaze up to her as he stood up finally in the small space and looked at Mary-Lou now at eye level. His gloved hand pulled back his hood to allow him just a little bit more air. He kept his mask firmly in place. The hawk-like covering obscured his face enough where he could at least feel like his identity wasn’t obvious. His cold blue eyes turned to gaze up at the numbers, a quarter of the way… He wished this thing would go faster. “Luigi Scarzone was picking up a shipment of drugs. The cops on the scene were on his payroll,” he said simply in a tone that Dick barely could even recognize. It was a bit of a challenge to talk to someone that he talked to every day as if it were the first time. “I had a small… intervention. Apparently they just couldn’t kick the habit,” he shook his head briefly. “Apparently your partners figured out what was going on when they saw some of their own at the end of that alley and you were thrown under the bus.”

“I don’t know. Hopefully they’ll just check the alley and see that Scarzone is out of business,” he said simply; still avoiding any sort of introductions so as to avoid going ‘hey, relax! It’s me, Dick!’

[Mary-Lou White]

She listened attentively to what he was saying, taking mental notes for her field report should she ever make it back to the office. Her usually bright blue eyes were tinted with clouds of worry as she watched him, not taking her gaze from him for one second in case he turned on her or disappeared into thin air. His mask was less frightening under the lights in the elevator such as they were, and Mary-Lou met his eyes when he tilted his head upwards to look at her face. There was something about him that seemed vaguely familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it; perhaps he just reminded her of Batman. She frowned lightly as he answered all of her questions bar one, leaving out the most important so that it hulked over them like a white elephant crowding the lift.

Crossing her arms protectively over her cest for a moment, Mary-Lou pondered what would happen now. Did she attempt to find out more or cut her losses? And if she decided to leave him to his skulduggery then how the hell was she supposed to get home? It wasn’t like she could just leave the building the same way she got in. She needed to be smarter or more logical, and as an emotional creature who loved her work but wasn’t the best beat cop around Mary-Lou suddenly found herself at an impasse. For the time being at least, she remained in the unenforced custody of this... person. “You forgot to tell me who you are,” she reminded him, a bit of sass in her voice that was distinctly uncharacteristic of her. What could she say? Being dragged around, shot at and ruining her nails definitely tended to piss her off.

[Dick Grayson]

The familiarity that Dick Grayson had with Mary-Lou seemed distant. While Dick couldn’t have been happier to at least see that not everyone in that freakin’ station was about as straight and narrow as a broken slinky, Nightwing couldn’t help but find a slight burden in the blonde officer. She was an alright shot, she had spunk but he highly doubted it was enough to subject Detective Mary-Lou White to the absolutely fucked up world Dick Grayson had tangled himself up in. He tried not to laugh and find irony in the music playing within the elevator in synchronization with their current situation. It would have been, quite literally, a Dick move and would have consequently blown his cover.

His eyes that had settled on hers when he stood couldn’t help but look a little longer. Did she know? Would she ever connect the pieces when attending the funeral for the officer that killed himself without warning and left a spattering of puzzle pieces to put together that would have connected Dick Grayson to the mob and to the masked individual that Mary-Lou was facing now? Would she ever catch Dick in that horrible lie about how he just went home to do crosswords and jog before hitting the hay?

He tore his eyes away to check the numbers. Damn it. Still not to the level he needed. Nightwing’s lips bent into a frown while he stalled. He didn’t know who he was. That was part of the problem with all of this. When wearing the mask, it was easy to identify as the hooded assailant, and to some serial killer, that the papers had dubbed as Nightwing. When confronted in a situation as rare as this, however, the lines between Dick Grayson and Nightwing blurred just a bit. He turned to the panel and pressed the emergency stop button. Paranoia brought the idea that people could be waiting at that floor now that the button was pushed. The elevator car lurched to a stop. He brought his switchblade up to the screws to the ceiling panels and idly started to unscrew them. Each one of them jinged to the floor.

He smirked as he looked over his shoulder to Mary-Lou. “Nightwing,” he said simply before the blade popped back into the handle and he pocketed it before he unhooked his billy-club from his hip. He banged on the loose panel and smiled when it popped off the top. “At least that’s what’s the papers have been saying who I am.”

[Mary-Lou White]

Mary-Lou felt herself shifting uncomfortably under his long and direct gaze, not knowing whether his gaze was purely speculative or if it involved some deeper, more sinister ruminations. She looked away, not wanting to look in his eyes for fear that she might find out something she didn’t want to know. Tonight he was stalking mob bosses and crooked cops. Tomorrow night he might decide to take a detour to her apartment and make sure she stayed quiet about the whole affair. Even with the added dangers, Mary-Lou managed to keep her cool. She would make it out of this alive. She would make it out of this alive.

She was unprepared for the jerk of the cables as he hit the emergency stop button in the elevator. She let out a loud squeal as she grabbed the and-rail running the walls of the lift to save herself from tumbling. As she righted herself, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts that reminded her that the adrenaline in her system was far from normal levels yet, she realised that she now knew why her colleagues hated the night shift. If she had this sort of excitement to look forward to whenever she pulled a 5-to-6, Mary-Lou made a decision that she would cite fatigue and not fall very far from the mark.

“Goodness gracious!” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in a bid to slow her pounding heart. Not wanting to this about what had to happen when she got back to the precinct (paperwork, coroner’s reports – ugh!) she immersed herself in him, his actions and words. It was soothing to think that she wasn’t there, not really, and that this was all some kind of crazy dream. Maybe she had fallen asleep at her desk and her work mates were shaving one of her eyebrows. She almost really wished that were true. The chilling shock of his assumed name forced her to pay attention.

“Nightwing?!” She repeated incredulously before she was able to stop herself. Speaking first and thinking later had always been a curse the blonde had lived with, and now was no different as she gaped openly at the smiling masked vigilante. She jumped nervously as he smacked his billy club on the escape hatch in the top of the lift, her eyes growing large. He was leaving? More importantly, he was leaving and letting her alone with whatever sharks were lurking in the shadows? Huh!? “Wait – Where do you think you’re going?” She closed the gap between them, standing right by his side and looking up at the opening in the top of the elevator before looking at his masked face. With a blush she was startled to find him only inches from her. His eyes were even clearer from his distance, brooding and shaded by the hood he wore.

“Ladies first, right?” She added, in a tone that told him that he wasn’t leaving her here as his diversion no matter what he might have thought. “Little help?”

[Dick Grayson]

“Sorry,” had been the only thing Nightwing had to offer when the elevator jerked to a stop, his balance maintained; the years he had spent training to do stunts only resulted in an unnatural immunity to turbulence. He hadn’t thought about paying her a visit to keep her quiet or even if he would see his coworker while he under Nightwing’s garb again. He certainly wouldn’t do that intentionally if he could help it. Dick tried not chuckle at her proclamation and blow his cover.

The repetition of his name brought a smirk to Nightwing’s features while Dick Grayson mentally cringed. He noted that she was still nervous about being in the elevator with him. Really? If he had intended anything bad for Mary-Lou, as bad as this sounded, he would have done it already. While the lowlife’s of Gotham had their two classes of criminial, Nightwing was certainly not the standard that that crazy shit Joker had set. Again, he couldn’t provide the same sort of reassurance that he could have without the mask. He hated it. This was why he worked alone and made sure to disappear after he got his mark. Mary-Lou’s arrival set up a deranged conflict of interest that would never let Dick live with himself if he had just let the blonde be and he barely lived with himself to begin with.

His brow arched beneath his mask at the slight accusation that he would leave. There would be too many loose ends and another horrible shank to his guilty conscience if he did. “Up,” he replied with simply. With his brow obscured it was a bit hard to express any other face but cold and creepy. He almost flinched backwards when she stepped up to him. Oh god she figured him out! He was done for! He wouldn’t stammer a defense until she said it out loud! His face couldn’t suppress the red that hit his cheeks but fortunately his mask helped. His lips feigned to contort into a frown while he lingered there a moment. This is dangerous, he thought to himself before his face took on a more neutral expression.

He slowly backed up in order to jump. His hands caught the edges of the space in the panels as he pulled himself up. He hung upside down in the standard way a man caught someone on the trapeze. Facing her with his head just above hers and his arms extended to her. “Going up?” He lowered himself and brought his arms to her waist and pulled her up with the strength in his core alone. He edged in order to sit her on the edge of the opening after he pulled them up and released her. He looked up to cable. Damn this was old. The two wires came to each side with a normal, old school rope connecting to the center for the main pulley. He stood, bracing the weight on the balls of his feet. His hands grasped the rope and tugged to be sure it would hold them.

[Mary-Lou White]

A look of outraged indignation passed over the blonde’s features as Nightwing lifted himself through the manhole. Her mouth opened to shout something at him, but her vocal chords were robbed of their gusto when he appeared, upside down, in front of her. Her mouth instead shaped itself into a small ‘o’ and she didn’t have time to reply to his question before his strong hands placed themselves around her waist and lifted her effortlessly. She bit her lips, trying not to think about all manner of things as she was lifted up. She shouldn’t be here, alone with a masked vigilante. She shouldn’t be letting him lift her like this. She shouldn’t be wondering about who he was.

She was going to have to double-time it to Church on Sunday.

“Thanks,” she managed, standing herself up on top of the elevator and gripping the old cable for grim death. She didn’t do well with heights, and she deliberately avoided looking down. She had to keep it together. She had a lot of explaining to do back at the office. When he tugged the rope, Mary-Lou felt the elevator swag beneath them. She closed her eyes for a long moment, inhaling in case it was the last breath she managed to take. Oh boy, she panicked internally. “What is it that you’re intending to do? How are we going to get out of here?”

[Dick Grayson]

His shallow blue eyes went from Mary-Lou to the thick cable. Nightwing hadn’t reacted outwardly to the scandalized look on his co-worker’s face. He was Nightwing! Focus! His jaw remained clenched as he remembered that his sympathies could blow his cover and therefore stop his original intentions. He glanced back at the woman that he would have to pretend to be completely oblivious to the next day and his lips turn into an arrogant smirk. “We go up,” he replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

He walked to the blonde; unfazed by the unstable surface on which he did so. “Can you climb it?” he asked with subtle concern in his tone. “I can carry you otherwise.” His offer made his expression clench back into that of a serious one. “Up to you.” He looked back up the rope and calculated what floor he was aiming for while he waited for his temporary partner to respond while the conflict of what to do upon reaching that level.

He could either leave her to get out for herself while Nightwing went back to the crime scene to pick the fallen cops and gangsters of their electronic effects (cells and blackberries). It wouldn’t hurt to have the guns added to his arsenal as well. Or, he could just as easily take Mary-Lou to the safety of her home. The vigilante would make the choice when he got up to that floor.

He crossed back across the unsteady elevator to the cable lightly on the balls of his feet. “C’mon Mary-whatever your name is,” he instructed with a gruff tone; hoping that the blonde didn't catch his slip.