What's Up With Nightwing

Chapter 8

Dick took a deep, thoughtful breath, his arm reeling back before slinging forward, sending a heavy rubber ball up the plastic and scoring a hundred in the left corner. We both shot our fists into the air and shouted in triumph. Damian waltzed over with his unamused look,
“Skee-ball, isn’t that impressive.” he spoke coldly,

“Damian, if you don’t over dramatize everything, you’re bound to live a very monotone life.” Dick threw down some knowledge on the demon spawn. Damian scoffed and folded his arms,

“Jason! Some kid keeps beating me at the basketball game!” Tim ran over and practically threw himself on me with his desperateness,

“So? What am i supposed to do about it?” I rolled my eyes at the pathetic teenager,

“Beat the crap out of that stupid kid!” Tim slid off me with an aggressive demeanor forming about him, “I want vengeance, I want him to beg for mercy, I want every time he comes into this arcade and sees that basketball machine, to still feel the sting of defeat and inadequacy, I want him to pay!” He slammed his fist into the palm of his hand,

“Tim, that’s a little harsh-” Dick began to say when I suddenly cut him off,

“No, I’m in.” I said, dead serious,

“The kid over there is like twelve, Jason.” Dick tried to reason with me but i was far too absorbed in the burning spirit of competition searing it’s glorious mark into my heart, I was too far absorbed in the liquid of pride and determination coursing through my veins,

 “He should have thought about that before he stepped up to the plate.” I began marching over to the little station next to the short child whose life I was about to absolutely wreck, with my undisputed arcade skills. Like I always say, ‘You can take the kid out of the streets but you can't take the streets out of the kid.’ I practically spent all of middle school at this arcade, I lived in the back for a few weeks as well, but that's not the point. This young child was threatening a member of my family, and I would not stand for the disrespect.

“Four quarters to play.” Someone said making me realize i had been just standing in front of the machine with a blank face just watching myself in its shiny backboard,

“Oh right.” I quickly put my hand in my pockets and searched about for some quarters only to pulls some moths, just kidding, I didn’t have moths, but I also didn’t have any money, “Umm” I began to look at my brothers, Dick just shaking his head with disappointment, and the other kids that began circling around the machines to watch. Before I could ask anyone for some money Damian gave an annoyed, but not surprised, sigh and filled the machine with quarters. Simply rolling them out of his hand into the slot then pressing the button.

And so it began, Me and this little ginger kid shooting hoops like no one's business. He was good, I’ll give him that much, but nowhere near my precision and calculation. I could tell I was even better now than I was when I was a dumb kid. For instance, I had a better grasp of physics and gravity now that I'd fallen out of enough windows. I knew those experiences would give me some valuable skills. The time went off on the game and I came back from a long trip in the zone. The zone that makes you win.

I couldnt hear anything but Dick was clapping, Tim was shouting and pumping his fists in the air, and Damian was slightly impressed, not only that but all the crowd that had gathered around us was cheering violently for me as I turned around to face the masses. My gaze shifted to the kid I beat, he was amazed and absolutely crushed, at least his mom was trying to cheer him up. I raised my fists up and screamed out then began to throw everyone the bird which will apparently get you kicked out of an arcade especially when you're an eighteen year old and you drop an f-bomb followed with a “yeah!” I don’t think they liked that too much. But I did get his mom’s number afterward, so someone was impressed.