<div class="floatleft">(http://cdn.movieweb.com/img.news/NE2szDLyUIEU69_1_1.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson<br/><strong>Nom de Guerre:</strong>Nightwing<br/><strong>Affiliation:</strong>The Bat family<br/><strong>Time:</strong>October 17, 2015; 2025 hours | Saturday<br/><strong>Location:</strong>STAR Labs | East Gotham<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Oracle, Superboy, Batwoman, Spoiler, Deathstroke.<br/><hr/><hr/><strong>Summary:</strong>Dick gets up. Dick might have a broken rib. Dick talks to Alfred, learns a little bit about who they're fighting. Dick thows a flash bang at Deathstroke. Dick trades quips while performing a non-standard grappling throw.<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Nightwing let out a groan that just served to make the pain in his chest worse. Batman had trained him long ago in how to match pain felt to potential injuries, and it felt like Dick might have gotten a broken rib.<br/><br/><em>‘Oh god, I really hope that isn’t broken’</em>Dick thought to himself as he pushed himself off the ground, jumping back into a defensive position as Kate rushed in to try and throw their assailant off his defenses.<br/><br/>Just as he was about to reach for his comm unit and see if Oracle could help him at all with information on their assailant, a small burst of static hit his ear which was promptly followed by the precise English accent that Dick had grown up hearing.<br/><br/>“Nightwing sir, would you like some assistance in regards to the photos spoiler just uploaded?” Alfred asked before flashing a few photos of their masked opponent into a corner of the hud contained in Dick’s mask.<br/><br/>“Bat cave 1, I was just about to call you” Dick said, sliding back in the confidence that Alfred had come to expect from him.<br/>“And yeah, I could use some notes on this guy. He's roughly six foot one and clearly displays enhanced strength, reflexes, and senses.”<br/><br/>“There are a few villains in the database fitting that description. Let me see… I’m sending you all the possible matches”<br/><br/>Suddenly hundreds of lines of text flew across the bottom of Nightwing’s hud, his brain firing on all cylinders as he tried to match the name and what he knew of them to the person standing in front of him.<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">“Clayface: shapeshifter. possesses exceptional strength.”</span><em><br/>‘Possible, but Basil is usually less controlled than this. We would have seen some tell.’</em><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">“League of Assassins. Multiple Members: The Sensei, David Cain”</span><br/><em>‘The League wouldn’t have bothered to leave the guards alive’</em><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">“Henry Ducard: No exceptional strength. Possible exo suit. ”</span><br/><em>‘Wouldn’t bother with a costume, he’d just wear a wetsuit if he was stealing’</em><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">“KGBeast: two inches taller than requested height, but possesses advanced strength.”</span><br/><em>‘No, Beast hits much harder than that. And he’s less controlled’</em><br/><br/>It took only an instant, but it was still frustrating Dick as time he was wasting. Right in front of him, Superboy was trying to punch out the guy, using the TK punch they'd been practicing, and Dick was missing it!<br/>“Are you sure there’s no one else?”<br/><br/>“Apologies sir, but most of the villains on the registry are a good sight taller if they possess exceptional strength. Or aren’t nearly so strong at the height. The only one left on the list is from a case you helped batman with about 13 years back.”<br/><br/>“13 years? An assassin who was hired to kill Harvey Dent, right?” Dick asked, memories already coming back to him. It had been one of the few opponents that he and Batman hadn’t been able to beat then, instead only being able to push him far enough that he failed to assassinate Dent. He hadn’t fought this new villain enough to compare fighting styles directly, but there was a familiarity there. An efficiency and a pragmatism that both seemed to share. It could have been as simple as that they were both trained by the military of the same country, but Dick wasn’t buying it. There were too many similarities in build, in strength, in speed, in everything. The only thing different was the outfit, but Dick Grayson couldn’t say shit about someone changing their costume.<br/><br/>“Correct sir. It appears he went by the name of The Commander. Batman seemed to follow his career ever since your encounter. I left him off the initial list since there had been no activity after 2009. Batman put the status as ‘Presumed Killed In Action’.”<br/><br/>“Unless this guy is someone new that’s the one. Can you tell me anything about him?”  Bruce might have yelled at Dick for assuming that it couldn’t have been a new hero, he doubted it. Bruce believed in logic, in deductive reasoning, but they’d both had their asses saved by gut reactions too often for either of them to ignore that unshakable feeling. Dick could feel it in the back of his mind that this new mercenary wasn’t new to the game; He was too experienced, too skilled, to be a newcomer. But more than that, he’d been too smart and stealthy to be a newcomer when he came into town; no noise on the job, no gathering of a crew, nothing. There had been zero rookie mistakes.<br/><br/>“Unfortunately not sir. Most everything Batman has listed is heavy conjecture based solely on their one time meeting together. Enhanced Speed, Strength, Reflexes, and senses. Skilled in the use of a variety of weapons and fighting style. Extensive Military Training. Etcetera.”<br/><br/>Dick stifled a sigh. He didn’t know much more than he knew before, but now he had a history. He had something to banter with. And that meant he had a way to try and get more information for the records.<br/>“Keep looking into it Batcave 1, and let me know if you come up with anything.”<br/><br/>Dick would have liked a little more information about the guy before walking into the ring with him again, but such was the life of a costumed hero. Besides, he remembered a little about fighting the mercenary. He was more than a match for any one normal human fighter. To get one up on him, they had to work together and not give him a chance to get his bearings. Their best bet was to use their numbers, their tactical training, and confuse him.<br/><br/>At that plan, Dick couldn’t help but smile. Confusing his opponents and keeping them off guard was a specialty of his. A small flash bang flew towards Deathstroke. Certainly not strong enough to blind the would be thief, but enough to give Nightwing just the smallest window of time. Again he leapt through the air towards the mercenary, angling for the villain's neck, but there were a few subtle difference this time. Instead of his legs propelling him off the ground, Dick had used his arms to launch himself towards The Commander. And instead of his escrima stick being the thing he hoped to wrap around the thief's neck, this time it was his legs.<br/><br/><br/>“You know, I thought you seemed familiar. What was it, Captain Crunch? No wait, the Commander, that’s it.” Dick said with a smile while his legs wrapped around the mercenary's neck, his body running perpendicular with the ground, his hands firmly attached to the ground, thanks to the enhanced grip on his gloves.<br/><br/>It was entirely possible that Dick was wrong, and that this wasn’t the same assassin he and Batman had fought more than a decade previously. But Dick Grayson had been trained by Bruce Wayne, one of the world’s greatest detectives, and he’d learned the hard way to always trust his gut instinct. Besides, even if he’d guessed wrong, then the thief's reaction would tell him a great deal. Now all he had to do was push the issue.<br/><br/>“This is like a craigslist missed connection. ‘13 years ago. You, failed assassin wearing all black. Me, plucky young sidekick with a penchant with short pants’. I mean, I’ve grown up a bit since those days. I’m not the boy wonder anymore', So I can't be too mad at you for not recognizing me." He quipped while ensuring that his next move would go off without a hitch. He’d done it before of course, but each time it was dangerous.<br/><br/>There was one other difference that separated this attempt at ending the fight with The Commander earlier than the other; this move wasn’t designed to choke him out. Less of grapple, this was more of a throw that just happened to involve getting a sharp grip on an opponent's neck.<br/><br/>Once he’d gotten a grip on the opponent, and he’d managed to secure a grip on the ground (Or a wall, or a pipe, or really any surface that would hold his weight), all Dick had to do was give a sharp twist of his hips to one side, left or right it all depended on the situation. And then, so long as the mercenary didn’t have magnets in his shoes or some gravitational power he wasn’t aware of, the large body of The commander would be thrown into the ground with a force that even his enhanced body wouldn’t be happy with.