Title: ombre

Prompt: gen, pre-flashpoint Dick solving a case

A/N: For chibi_nightowl, for the Dick Grayson exchange! Dick hasn't quite solved the case yet, but he's on his way!

Summary: Dick needed this independence more than he'd realized. The ability to patrol his own town, to fight his own cases, to be himself; he'd needed it long before he'd taken on the mantle of Nightwing.

Standing on the edge of an apartment building rooftop, Dick Grayson took a moment to admire the city before him. There were times when he'd been uncertain of his decision to move to Blüdhaven. Not regret; he had long needed this independence before he'd changed his costume to Nightwing, even before the rest of the Titans, the Outsiders, or any other friend noticed the strain in his smile.

As much as he loved Bruce, it was suffocating living under his shadow. Gotham, for better or for worse, was Bruce's, was Batman's, and it was impossible to escape that. Gordon and his batsignal, the strange array of criminals who habitually tore up the city, and even the people who in adored and feared the Bat in turn; they were all constant reminders of the legacy that threatened to swallow Dick up whole.

Blüdhaven? Batman was only a whisper here. Dick studied the seedy city sprawling out before him, the toxic mess of Gotham's leftover dregs. In all too many ways, this city was him, a place still struggling to figure itself out.

Unfortunately, unlike him, it had decided to take the darker route to do so. Dick glanced behind him. Sitting innocuously on the roof was a small, black duffle bag. His cop uniform was folded neatly inside. He'd only been here for a few weeks and the corruption in the ranks stank so much, he was surprised he could smell any of the pollution.

Still, that's what he came here for. He'd clean up this city. He'd turn it around, help it step out of Gotham's shadow and transform it into a safer place to live. Tugging his mask on securely, Dick flipped off the roof. The crisp air cut his skin as he extended an arm, shooting his wire to hook around the next building.

Blüdhaven hadn't yet gotten used to their newest inhabitant, so almost no one looked up as he slowly patrolled his new home. The streetlights flickered, their glow too small to chase away the shadows. Every couple of buildings, a small alley branched off; the city was a labyrinth of interconnecting backstreets he had yet to fully map out. Dick had always loved puzzles, there was something fun about teasing out a solution, but he wasn't sure if he really wanted to see the big picture here.

A soft swear caught his attention. Flipping over yet another alley, he could just make out a scuffle below him.

Trouble.

Dick quickly pivoted as he landed. Peeking over the ledge, he spotted two men below. Despite their argument, he couldn't make out what they were saying. A woman stood next to them, clutching her purse tightly. A mugging, possibly worse.

Just the sort of warm up he needed. Dick leaped, flipping so his feet landed on the railing of the metal railing with a soft clang. Immediately he sprang forward. As he tumbled through the air, he bounced from wall to railing as he quickly descended.

"What was that?" one of them, a lanky blonde asked as he glanced around. Nervous, he tensed, sounding almost frantic as he asked, "You heard that, right?"

The woman didn't respond, her long black hair almost curtaining her expression as she hunched over her purse. Her brown hands contrasted against the soft pink leather. Too terrified to run, she just stood there, frozen in place.

"What're you talking about?" his companion, a shorter bald man scoffed as he gestured around them. His Jamaican accent thickened slightly as he added, annoyed, "There's no one. Quit worryin'"

Dick couldn't resist. As he pushed off the wall one last time, he growled, "Boo!"

Looking up, the woman screamed. Fortunately, it wasn't enough to alert the guys before Nightwing tackled the Jamican, slamming his head on the ground. The force was enough to knock him out cold.

"Fuck!" The white guy stumbled back.

"Having a party?" Dick smirked. "I want in."

"S-stay back!" Fumbling with his gun, the man shakily pointed it at him. "I'll shoot."

"Need some help?" Not bothering to wait for an answer, he pounced. His foe shot uselessly, his aim terrible. As the bullets whizzed by, Dick dodged and weaved out the way with ease. He crouched and swiped his opponent's legs.

His eyes grew wide. "Shi—"

He landed flat on his back, the gun falling out of his hand uselessly. Dick quickly elbowed him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. The man gasped, curling up into a fetal position.

Job done, Dick climbed to his feet and wiped his hands. "Ma'am, you're safe now."

There wasn't so much as a whimper. Surprised, he turned around to find the alley clear, the victim long gone. The only thing left was her purse. She must have dropped it when she'd escaped.

"It's a good thing purses are easy to recover," Dick sighed, picking up the worn bag. Dick Grayson the cop could handle that tomorrow. For now, he just had to truss up these two would-be thieves. Maybe some cop would do the right thing and turn them in.

Dick grimaced. Or, knowing his coworkers as he did, the pair would be back on the streets without even being so much as booked. "Maybe I should just—"

A small white baggie fell out of the purse. Surprised, he picked it up. "It couldn't be…"

He opened it. Pulling out a small device, he waited impatiently for the contents to be chemically analyzed. It didn't take long before it beeped, alerting him that, yes, it was cocaine.

Extremely pure cocaine.

Opening the purse just revealed more baggies. This wasn't a mugging, this was an exchange. There was only one credit card inside, from a Rajdeep Singh. Looks like he'd have to return that purse today.

But first, time to check on his other suspects. Grinning, he whirled around. "Hey, did realize you were all friends!"

The Jamaican was still out cold. Unfortunately, at some point the other guy had also passed out, possibly hyperventilating himself into a blackout. Clearly, he was dealing with small fry, possibly newbies. Still, even the tiny fish led back to bigger fish, if Dick dug deep enough.

He scanned the pair. Dressed in non-descript jeans and hoodies, neither of them had any identifying marks. The jeans were wet at the bottom, salt crusted on, and there was sand on their running shoes. They must have come from the ocean. A quick search of their pants didn't reveal anything else. "Nothing's ever easy, is it?"

Still, he had two leads, which was better than none.

Dick grinned as he climbed back up to the roof. Well, it was time that he took in the sights of Blüdhaven, and what better way than to see dawn at the docks?

And well, if he happened to run into a few more goons along the way, that only made things better.