Chapter Text
Despite being known for his graceful acrobatic skills, when Dick Grayson traveled through the portal, he nearly landed flat on his face. Thankfully his instincts kicked into gear, allowing him to avoid a full-on face plant, even if that meant his elbows took the majority of the blow. Grumbling to himself, Dick pushes up onto his knees, turning to glare at the now-closing magic doorway behind him.
"Real nice, Constantine. I can always count on you to make it a smooth trip," he huffs softly to the empty room around him.
Unsurprisingly, the criticism goes unanswered.
Sighing in annoyance, Dick takes stock of the room around him. Even though he had asked John to transport him to the Watchtower, he thought that had implied he wanted to be taken to the monitor room...or at least his private quarters.
Instead, it looks like Constantine had deigned to plop him in the center of one of the League's training rooms...on the complete opposite end of the Watchtower that he'd wanted to be in.
Lovely.
No matter. Perhaps he would stop by the cafeteria on his way up to the monitor room to grab a snack. This latest mission had left him feeling a bit famished anyway. And Bruce always kept the pantry stocked with his favorite treats—a perk of being one of Batman’s favorite members of the league.
(And a perk of being Bruce’s son…But Dick liked to think his snack stash was actually a reward for Nightwing being a strong asset to the League. Not because there was any sort of Batkid favoritism at play in stocking the Watchtower snack stash).
As Dick gets to his feet, a small part of his brain takes note that the training mats are navy blue instead of black like they normally are, but he shoves this observation to the back of his mind. Bruce might have replaced the mats in the past few days—nothing to be worried about.
The subtle changes he also noticed in some of the room's equipment were also odd, but yet again, could also have a reasonable explanation that Dick was too tired to find at the moment. Not when he was overdue for the nap of the century.
Making his way into the hallway, Dick begins his trek towards the central elevators, using the opportunity to stretch his legs a bit.
At first, he finds himself content to be lost in his thoughts as he walks. It’s always pleasant to have the time to mentally process the intense mission he’d just wrapped up minutes before. And an opportunity to take his mind out of problem-solving mode, allowing himself to truly decompress for a bit.
But after a minute or two of being lost in thought, he begins to notice the strange environment around him.
The tower is eerily quiet.
Too still. Empty, even.
Normally, the Justice League's Watchtower is full of life, brimming with heroes from across the galaxy. In fact, Dick would argue that it is typically challenging to find some semblance of peace and quiet on the space station, as every nook and cranny tends to be occupied by his heroic allies.
Today the Watchtower feels hollow...and as Dick continues walking through the hallways without encountering anyone else, he begins to feel on edge.
Did he miss an all-league alert? Is there some sort of world invasion that he was meant to be defending against at the moment? Why was the emergency alert not resounding through the speakers? Why had Bruce, or even Clark, not notified him that there was some sort of ‘all hands on deck’ situation?
What the hell was going on?
It's almost a relief that once he reaches the elevators, he can see that one is descending towards his floor. At least someone else is here. Maybe they can explain why the entire Watchtower seems unusually barren.
Dick waits patiently as the doors open, revealing Hal Jordan fully suited up as the Green Lantern.
Dick smiles in greeting. "Hey, GL, do you know what's—"
He is immediately interrupted by the green construct of a fist racing toward his face.
Nightwing dodges to the side, reassessing the situation. He can't see any additions to Green Lantern's uniform that would indicate external mind control, but it also could be some sort of spell. Hal also isn't moving any differently than he normally would (besides immediately picking a fight).
A training exercise, maybe?
Dick holds his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "Wait! Hold on, you could at least give me a heads up if you want to spar."
Hal Jordan's nostrils flare. He summons a green construct in the mold of a sword and aims it forward at Dick as he speaks. "Listen, buddy, this isn't a play fight. You're trespassing on Justice League property."
Dick tilts his head, furrowing his brows as he takes in the man's words. "Trespassing? What do you mean? What's going on?"
The sword remains aimed directly at his throat as the Lantern scoffs at him. "You can’t just show up in some hero gear and expect to be given free rein of the tower. That was a stupid plan. Especially when several League members are on board the station."
Why doesn't Hal recognize him? Is this some sort of memory spell situation? That could explain things.
"GL, we did a deep space op together last month. Do you seriously not remember me?" Dick questions, hoping this will spark some sort of reminder.
Green Lantern laughs, still maintaining his hold of the sword directed towards Dick. "I would remember if I went on a mission with a New Leaguer. It's kind of a small and exclusive club. A new member would be hard not to notice."
A small club? Since when had the Justice League had limited membership?
As he stares at his fellow hero in confusion, Dick beings to take in the subtle changes in Hal's uniform...and the lack of grey hairs spotting his honorary uncle's temple.
…Shit.
Something was definitely amiss...and if Dick had to wager a guess...it was either related to the timestream or potential alternate dimensions. Not ideal.
"Okay,” Dick breathes out, hoping to exude patience in the midst of his rising sense of panic. “I think I'm starting to understand what's happening here."
Dick continues to keep his voice calm, hoping to persuade his uncle to be open-minded. "I need you to take me to the monitor room so I can explain everything."
The monitor room would have data files to help him confirm or deny his theory. The last thing he wanted to do is mess with the continuity of the timestream. He’d spent enough time around Wally to know that at least.
"No can do, pal. You broke into a highly protected space station. The only place you are going to is one of our holding cells." With that, Hal lunges at him, requiring Nightwing to dodge another blow from his uncle for the second time that day.
Dick made a mental note to sock Constantine in the face the next time he saw him.
"I really am not here to fight," Dick says as he ducks under a green lasso attempting to loop around his arms and torso. "If you'd just let me—"
"Not. Interested," the other hero's voice cuts him off.
Fine, then. The hard way it is.
Dick pulls his Escrima sticks off his back and gives each a twirl before taking a defensive stance in front of his uncle.
"When you are icing your sore muscles later, remember that you asked for this."
Hal's responding smirk was full of his uncle's typical over-confidence. "We'll see about that."
Nightwing doesn’t wait for the Lantern to initiate this time, already lunging toward his uncle and landing an effective blow to his side before the man could even react.
He turns to face Hal's back as the man grimaces in pain, whirling around to face his opponent (now several paces away) with shock in his eyes and a hand bracing his side.
Dick doesn't even flinch as his uncle forms a green rocket launcher and aims it right at his face. Instead, he merely raises a curious brow in his uncle’s direction.
"You little shit."
Dick barely resists the urge to smirk at Hal's words.
“That was a freebie,” Hal continues. “Get ready to feel the full force of what a Green Lantern can do.”
Nightwing rolls his eyes. "Is that really necessar—"
He quickly rolls to the side as a rocket explodes forward towards him. He responds in turn by throwing one of his Escrima sticks directly at the center of Hal's chest and sends his other towards the wall beside them.
Green Lantern quickly forms a medieval shield in front of him, causing the weapon to clatter to the floor.
"You missed," Hal reports.
"Think again." Dick begins running directly toward him.
The second Esrima stick bounces off the wall, then hits Hal Jordan hard enough in the same spot he'd been struck earlier on his side that it sends him careening to the floor. The Green Lantern lands with a grunt of pain.
Dick is on top of him before the poor guy can even react, and it takes Hal a moment to shove him off. The Lantern gets to his feet once more and squares off against the unknown vigilante standing before him.
"Listen, there's definitely more Justice League members on the way. Just surrender now, and we'll show mercy."
Dick grins. "Bold of the man who has been losing the fight to suggest I surrender. Especially when you were so easily disarmed."
Hal frowns. "What do you mea--" His words cut off as he notices he is no longer in his Green Lantern uniform. Instead, his flight suit adorns his body, and a glowing green ring is noticeably absent from his finger.
Nostrils flaring, he looks back up at the intruder standing before him.
Dick cheekily smiles and holds up the man's green ring. "Nice jewelry."
If looks could kill, Dick Grayson would be a dead man.
In a fit of rage, Hal Jordan sloppily lunges toward Nightwing, only to have his blow easily sidestepped. Dick responds in kind by elbowing his uncle in the face, knocking his fellow hero out, and causing the man to crumple to the floor.
Dick sighs in relief, pocketing the ring in his utility belt for the time being.
"I'd say that I'm sorry, GL, but you kinda brought that one on yourself." Dick looks down pitifully at the unconcious man at his feet.
Oh well, at least he can head up to the monitor room now to hopefully start figuring a way out of this mess. He picks up his Escrima sticks and heads over to the elevators once more.
As he goes to click the elevator button, the near-silent sound of a bow-string being drawn back reaches his ears. Dick automatically freezes, then slowly turns to face the man he suspects is behind him.
The Green Arrow stands across the room at the edge of a hallway, with a nocked arrow aimed directly at him.
Dick grimaces.
"You wouldn't happen to be willing to let that all go, would you? If we're being honest, we both know he deserves to be humbled every once in a while." Maybe he can appeal to Oliver Queen's sense of humor.
"Not. Gonna. Happen." Queen's terse words echo through the room.
Sighing in resignation, Dick readies himself once more for another fight with a younger version of one of his closest allies.
It was going to be a long day.