The time has come, the walrus said.
Days have passed. Weeks have passed. God, he doesn't want to do this, not a damned bit. He likes being Nightwing, he likes taking care of Bludhaven, he likes being someone other than Bruce Wayne, Jr.
But he has responsibilities.
Dick has his own Batsuit because his build is trimmer than Bruce's and he is a little shorter, nothing that has ever been noted in the past by Gotham's villains. Wearing that suit, he faces the case in which Bruce's suit now resides with Jason's former Robin outfit and Stephanie's former Batgirl outfit, a quiet memorial to those who died...only Jason and Stephanie didn't stay dead. Which gives Dick a modicum of hope.
"Don't worry, old man," he whispers to the empty Batsuit in the case. "I'll take care of Gotham for you."
Drawing the cowl over his head, Dick strides to the dark, sleek shape of the Batmobile and cracks a sardonic smile. At least he gets to drive the car. If anything will bring a pissed-off Bruce Wayne back from wherever the hell Luthor sent him, it's the knowledge that Dick Grayson is joyriding in Bruce's favorite vehicle. Or so he hopes.
The engine roars to life, and with a blast from the rear-mounted booster the Batmobile screams its way out of the Batcave toward Gotham. Time to kick some ass. And THAT at least will feel damned good.
But he has responsibilities.
Dick has his own Batsuit because his build is trimmer than Bruce's and he is a little shorter, nothing that has ever been noted in the past by Gotham's villains. Wearing that suit, he faces the case in which Bruce's suit now resides with Jason's former Robin outfit and Stephanie's former Batgirl outfit, a quiet memorial to those who died...only Jason and Stephanie didn't stay dead. Which gives Dick a modicum of hope.
"Don't worry, old man," he whispers to the empty Batsuit in the case. "I'll take care of Gotham for you."
Drawing the cowl over his head, Dick strides to the dark, sleek shape of the Batmobile and cracks a sardonic smile. At least he gets to drive the car. If anything will bring a pissed-off Bruce Wayne back from wherever the hell Luthor sent him, it's the knowledge that Dick Grayson is joyriding in Bruce's favorite vehicle. Or so he hopes.
The engine roars to life, and with a blast from the rear-mounted booster the Batmobile screams its way out of the Batcave toward Gotham. Time to kick some ass. And THAT at least will feel damned good.