As soon as the words “quick reconnaissance mission” reached his ears, Dick should have known things would go awry. Never, ever, has he been on a quick recon mission and actually made it in and out with no issues. He should have known after years with the team and the titans that those words almost never actually mean that. Still, Dick prepared to go on the mission with his brothers. They had been noticing weird things around the old abandoned building between 6th street and Crime Alley for weeks. Glowing lights, strange objects, the type of stuff that, in a place like Gotham, would normally be ignored. However, the Bats knew all too well how something like this could get out of hand in an instant. So, when the family met up for their monthly Sunday dinner and patrol, Bruce briefed them on the issue.
“Zatanna is off-world, and Dr. Fate said he had better things to deal with.” Bruce explained. Dr. Fate, while powerful, was an unreliable source at best. “I want Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin to investigate the building while me and Signal follow up on leads. Black Bat and Spoiler will patrol regularly in Robin and I’s place.”
Dick wasn't sure why on Earth all four of them needed to go to investigate, but he knew Bruce always had a reason for his assignments. Dick has the most experience, Tim is good if there is technology involved in the disturbance, Jason is undeniably a brutal force on the field who can serve as good watch in situations like these, and Damian has some of the best stealth out of all of them. Bruce is worried about the building. Dick can tell by the protruding vein in his neck and the over coverage on the mission. Batman doesn't like metas or magic in his city, though he's gotten better about it, he is still wary of anything outside of the norm. The Bats go off in their separate ways, shooting from rooftops and parkouring through buildings. Their footsteps are silent as they travel through Gotham. Each of them having grown up and patrolled her streets so many times they could navigate it blindfolded.
“Remember you four,” Oracles voice chimed in through their coms, “if this is magic, leave immediately. Don't get cocky, Boy Blunder.” She jabbed playfully at Nightwing. Nightwing scoffed and shot his grapple across a building, his siblings doing so as well. He knew full well the dangers of magic.
When the four reached the building they understood why Batman was so concerned. The building glowed in an eerie light and small embers of matter danced around its frame. They approached with caution. For all its crime, Gotham is predictable. The same big villains, the same gangs> Outside of arkhams big bads, they mostly deal with muggings and keeping the streets safe. Maybe in Central City a sight such as the one before the four young men would be unusual, but not too threatening. Here, where most people rely on their fists and dollar tree skee masks, anything out of the ordinary is indicative of something bigger. There could be mass weapon production in there using dangerous and experimental substances. It could be an alien not knowing the consequences of using the powers that are harmless on their world, but deadly on Earth. Witches, team ups, creatures, there's no telling what's that building.
Or it could be a bunch of stupid chemicals in a vat that some teens decided to dump together. Truly, you never know in Gotham.
The four split up, each taking a side of the building. Nightwing explored the west side, searching through filing cabinets covered in cobwebs and desks littered with litres of strange substances. An old facility that used some sort of chemistry, Nightwing assumed. Most likely a lab or an office building that housed multiple businesses. They were not uncommon in Gotham.
Static crackled in Nightwings ear. He flicked his com and Red Robin’s voice came through, sounding like it was underwater.
“I think I found something. I'm in the middle of the building, there's some sort of…orb? I honestly don't know.” Red Robin says, analyzing the thing occupying the room.
“Copy. Stay there, I'm on my way. The rest of you, well, rendezvous at the entrance.” Nightwing calls.
“No one says ‘copy’ anymore, Dickwing.” Jason's crude voice chimes in his ear.
“Ha ha.” Nightwing says, quite unenthusiastically. “Very funny. No names in the field. Robin, did you catch that? Meet at the entrance. We don't know what we’re dealing with.”
“Yes, Nightwing, I ‘copy”” Robin replies. Nightwing can't help but smile, ignoring the tease. It's good to see Damian come out of his comfort zone. He's been making more jokes lately.
“Jesus Christ!” garbles a voice in his ear, just barely unintelligible as Red Robins. “The orb thing is like…fuck, i dont even know! It's sucking in everything around it!”
“Get out of there now Red Robin! Hood, Robin, you too! I'll meet you once I've got-” Nightwing didn't get to finish his instruction before a flash of bright light encapsulated the room he was in, strange noises roaring in his ears as his mind explodes with pain/ He scrunches his eyes in discomfort and barely has the sense to yell his brothers names before his senses disappear, and the world simply stops.
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Dicks eyes shoot open and he just barely has time to leap out of the way of an incoming car. Not one on the road, no this one was barreling towards him and crashes into the side of a building. Still regaining his senses he tries to take in the environment around him. He's on a street somewhere in a city he knows is not Gotham. It's daylight out and his body tingles with confusion, or at least, whatever the hell hit him in that building. The building. The building! His head darts around and his eyes trace the city block maniacally for his brothers, searching for the deep reds of their costumes. He locks eyes on Tim, who is shouting at him and Damian to follow him. No, Robin. Yes, Dick is still in his Nightwing costume and upon further instruction Damian, Tim are too. No, somethings wrong, well more wrong, where the hell is Jason? Why is Dick’s mind so scrambled he can barely remember where he is before someone is grabbing his hand and he has the sense to latch onto Damians wrist behind him before he's pulled in the direction of the Alley Tim ran into. A shiver runs down his spine and he barely registers the pain shooting up his wrist. Dick shakes his head as if to shake away the foggy feeling that is coating his brain and the ache in his wrist. Him, Jason, and Damian reach the alley way with Tim and sink into the shadows the best they can. Dick cant allow himself to b e confused anymore, so he takes stalk of the situation.
They were in a building in Gotham, one potentially containing magic, and now they are not in Gotham. He takes in his surroundings in a way better than he could before. Before them is a dumpster placed next to a door. On it, a small cartoon chef logo floats above the text “Pizza Made in NYC!”: So much for a cliche. New York. How the hell did they get in New York?
From the street a fire hydrant bursts and Dick suddenly remembers there was something happening. He goes to the edge of the alley way and looks out. A man is flying haphazardly in the air on some sort of boots. Years of training and, well, common sense tell him the man-who could be no more than 20- had no clue what he was doing. Dick tries to get his bearings and help when he sees something metal fly through the air. The distraction is enough to make him remember he is till disoriented and has no clue where he is, going after someone in full daylight and costume isnt a good idea. A blur of silver and red in the shape of a man follows the hammer. The hammer knocks the guy in the tech backwards before the blur stops. Dick can see clearly now that it is a man with long blonde hair and a red cape. A hero? Not one he recognizes. The maybe-hero walks to the 20 year old and picks him up by the back of his shirt.
“You are coming with me.” Dick almost scoffs at the cliche. He turns his attention to his brothers and assesses the damage. Damian has a few scrapes on his face, no doubt from a rough landing. Tim’s hair is a mess and his cape has a tear in it. Jason's helmet has protected him, it seems, as he has no visible injuries. For himself, Dick can feel a throbbing sensation in his wrist which he duly recognized as a sprain. The four boys say nothing, the only sound caressing their ear is that of the city surrounding them. Horns honking and crowds slowly resuming their business after the attack.
“What the hell was that?” Jason says, and the three boys in front of Dick seem to be looking to him for an answer. An answer he doesn't have.