NO CELESTIAL / dick grayson

four, bloodthirst

HER FIRST PATROL didn't end up needing much convincing after all. It seemed that Damian was a far bigger problem in their eyes than she was, at any rate, which was why she found herself on one of their spare motorcycles speeding through the night behind the Batmobile, Nightwing's motorcycle on the other side of the vehicle only two days after her arrival in Gotham City.

Her new suit wasn't ready yet, so she made do with her assassin suit, which she was fairly comfortable in anyways. Barbara had made a few quick adjustments to the suit that morning so that it wasn't as obviously recognisable. Remiel wasn't sure how successful it was, but she didn't complain.

With or without a suit, the people who wanted to recognise and find her would be able to do so anyways. There weren't many qi-wielding martial artists around, and fewer connected to Batman. And no one was going to think she was Seraphina.

Since her chain whip and a knife were all she'd managed to pack with her (there was only so much she could do with airport security and metal detectors), she'd ended up borrowing a three-section staff from Batman. It was something she was used to when fighting alongside them, non-lethal and efficient. Useful for both longer-distance combat and close-quarters, suitable for defence and attack. And it worked well with her fighting style, fluid as water, an extension of her limbs, a dance as much as a fight.

She did miss this, she realised as she sped up to follow the Batmobile. She did miss riding through the Gotham night like this, cutting through the mess of a city, the only sound the engine of their motorcycles, the wind against her face and hair, that sensation of freedom, concentrating on nothing but the city structure she sped past.

It was the docks they were heading for. Barbara had noted on her extensive system of security that a gang seemed to be loading materials onto a ship. Not much information past that, except that one of the men seemed to be a known lieutenant of Roman Sionis.

The Black Mask was someone who'd shown up after her brief stint in Gotham. During Jason's time, most likely, so she'd never encountered him before. Though she had certainly heard of him. The League liked to keep track of people like Sionis.

She was excited to see what he had to offer. Though from the looks of it he was a mastermind in the style of Falcone or Maroni, the boss of a crime family who relied more on goons, which was always slightly more boring to deal with.

Though perhaps she shouldn't be thinking about all this in the sense of how exciting it was going to be. She ought to be grateful that it was merely some gang members, that no one was getting hurt, that it just seemed to be some sort of contraband. Drugs or weapons, she had her money on either.

They parked their vehicles a fair distance away, out of sight from any scouts who might have been patrolling the area. They used their grappling hooks to travel to the top of one of the warehouses, sneaking through until they could finally see the gang gathered on the ground below.

Half the men were in the warehouse, the other loading the boxes onto the ship. Not a large ship—most likely one only to transport the items to a bigger one waiting outside the city.

The smarter thing to do here was to wait for them to finish stocking up and follow this ship to the bigger one. But none of them were ready for that tonight. Seemed like they might just have to cut off this head of the operation and wait until it regrew for further action.

Batman motioned for them to split up. She stuck close to Damian since that was the reason she had been brought out anyways, and the two of them placed themselves at a high spot that allowed them quick access to anyone who walked out of the warehouse, effectively sealing them off once Batman and Nightwing, each now creeping towards the ship, start their attack.