The sign once read ST. GILES CRISIS SHELTER, although a third of the letters had since fallen off and no one had seen to them getting replaced.

Roy shuffled over to the derelict structure, his hands jammed under his armpits and the hood of his red jumper pulled down as much as possible to ward off the early morning chill. He had spent the night in his car, but his stomach had protested strongly to the treatment by morning.

The shelter was a three-story building of old brown brick, its cracks filled with grime and moss. Its windows were filthy and in dire need of wiping, but still serviceable. Growing up in the Glades hadn't been exactly an ideal childhood, and once he was old enough to fend for himself he had up and left his deadbeat father. This was far from the first time Roy found himself alone with nothing but the clothes on his back, but this was the farthest he had ever been from home.

Blüdhaven was a whole nother animal. Where some parts of Starling was bright and lively even in the dead of night, the former whaling town was dark and rank with decay. "A stinkin' shithole of a city," his father had said once, in the rare times when he wasn't piss drunk and passed out on the floor of their cramped tenement.

The last time Roy had heard from his father, he'd said he was heading to said city on some job or other. Money was tight, they were three months overdue on their rent and Roy Harper Sr. had heard through the grapevine that one of the many 'Haven crime lords was looking for some muscle. After a week it became clear that his dad was not coming back any time soon, or at all for that matter, and he'd grabbed anything valuable and quietly vanished into the streets. Roy never saw his father again, which suited him just fine.

The shelter had just begun to open its doors when Roy arrived at the entrance. A bored looking and elderly security guard waved him through after taking down his name and ID. He followed his nose and finally found himself in the cafeteria, where the early risers were already lining up to get their breakfast while cooks and volunteers puttered around the kitchen area behind the counter. Roy wordlessly joined the queue.

A few moments later, a commotion broke out at one end of the soup kitchen. Curious, Roy craned his neck over to see what all the fuss was about.

At the door was a young man. He looked to be in his late-twenties, lean and good looking with wiry chin-length dark hair and olive skin. But the thing that caught Roy's attention was his uniform. What was a cop doing here?

Said cop was making his way through the crowded room, greeting some individuals and waving to others. Whoever he was, he seemed a regular visitor of the establishment. In the corner of his eyes he could see one of the cooks, a matronly woman in a greasy apron whose nametag simply read LIZ, straightening her hair and smoothing down her apron as the officer came closer and closer to her station.

"Dear boy, it's good to see you! It's been so long," exclaimed the cook, throwing her arms around the young man and kissing his cheeks when he greeted her. "What have you been up to?"

"It's good to see you too, Liz," said the cop. "Sorry I haven't dropped by lately, I was out of commission for a while."

Liz sniffed in disapproval. "Slave drivers, the lot of them! I swear I see you covered in more scrapes and scratches than the bums that come around here."

The officer gave a sheepish grin and shrugged, his expression plainly saying what can you do? as he absent-mindedly mussed up his already tousled hair. Liz blushed further.

It was then that the man took notice of Roy.

"Haven't seen you around before. You're new?"

Roy was taken aback by the sudden attention placed on him. "Uhh yeah, I just arrived this morning," Roy answered suspiciously.

"Well then, Officer Dick Grayson, at your service!" he said with a flourish, tipping his hat with a grin. "I work the beat around here."

"Roy."

"Nice to meet you, Roy," said Grayson. "You get yourself settled down here all right? And don't go wandering around the city when it's dark. I'll be seeing you around." Roy nodded, and with that, the cop left Roy to his own devices and made his way to another group of people.

"Nice boy, that Dick," remarked a wizened old lady seated next to him when he found a seat to eat his food, nodding in the direction of the cop. "He drops by every now and then to check up on us. Not many people bother with us folk in this city."

He watched as Grayson chatted with two girls across the room. They were obviously sisters, the elder with short dirty blonde hair, and the younger with wavy brown locks falling past her shoulder. Brown like Thea's, Roy thought, his chest constricting as memories of the past days' events came crashing down on him.

Roy pushed his plate away, his appetite lost.

Two days passed before Roy met Officer Grayson again, and as far as second impressions went, it could have gone a lot better.

Roy was just wandering around Blüdhaven minding his own business when he suddenly found himself surrounded by some punks intent on mugging him. Needless to say, it had not ended well in their favour.

"Hey hey hey break it up!"

"Shit!"

"It's that cop!"

"Run!"

Roy's attackers fled the scene, one of them half supporting, half dragging the kid he'd slammed into the wall. He turned around to see Grayson in full police garb exiting his car and making his way over to Roy.

"So, we meet again... Roy, was it?" the officer quipped as he came nearer.

"They started it," Roy muttered, hating how petulant he sounded.

"Uh-huh, and you almost single-handedly put one of them through a wall," retorted Grayson, arching an eyebrow at him.

Roy cringed internally. He resigned himself to getting shuffled off to the police station and possibly spending a night in a cell. It wouldn't have been the first time such a thing had happened but it wasn't exactly a great way to pass the time.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Wait, what?

"What?" Of all the questions he'd expected, this wasn't even on the list.

"You look like crap. I know the standard fare at Giles' leaves something to be desired, but have you even eaten at all since I last saw you?"

Roy shrugged and Grayson rolled his eyes.

"Come on, I know a great diner two blocks from here, my treat."

"You're not gonna arrest me?" Roy blurted out disbelievingly.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Would you like me too?"

"No! I mean, uhh I did just beat up a-"

"Kid, if I arrested every single person who got in a fight here, there wouldn't be much of a city left. Besides, as you said, they started it. Let's get you patched up too, that bruise looks like it hurts."

And with that, the older man turned on his heel and strode back to his police car, sliding into the driver's seat and peering expectantly at Roy through the window.

Roy got in the car.

Said diner was a quaint little mom and pop place. The pair seated themselves in one of the booths.

"So what's the catch?" asked Roy.

"Catch?"

"Why'd you bother sticking up for me? And buying me food? From what I'd heard, 'Haven's Finest aren't exactly on top of the charity list."

"All right, you got me." Grayson raised his hands in mock defeat. "I'm just… curious about you. I make it a point to know everyone on my beat, and that includes guys who show up in my city driving a fancy new car and then dumping it for no reason. Security cameras caught you leaving it out by The Spine, nice wheels by the way, pity it's probably gone and scrapped for parts by now."

Roy shrugged noncommittally. The car wasn't his anyway, and he wasn't feeling the least bit remorseful about downsizing Oliver's toy collection.

"They couldn't get a good look at your face, thanks to your choice of clothing, but I knew it was you the moment I saw you."

"So what, you're a stalker or something?"

Grayson seemed genuinely amused by his response, which just served to make Roy even grumpier because he had meant it as an insult.

"Like I said, I'm just curious." Grayson leaned forward, his expression serious. "You look like someone who's trying to run away from something."

Roy's mouth opened to retort, but Grayson continued.

"Which is none of my business. What if I want to know is whether or not you're going to be trouble in my city, because god knows we have enough issues here already."

"What if…" Roy nervously licked his lips, his throat suddenly feeling dry. "What if I'm just trying to protect someone? I'm just too dangerous to be around her."

"Does it have anything to do with you being able to punch through concrete?" Grayson quipped.

"Asshole would've deserved it," Roy muttered, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Uh-huh, he's lucky he was even able to stand after what you did to him. What if he got hurt even worse? What if he'd died?"

Roy flinched. Grayson's eyes softened.

"Y'know, you remind me of someone. Kid around your age, a little hot-headed twerp and with a strange liking for scruffy red hoodies."

"What's that got anything to do with this?"

"Eh, nothing much, actually. I just think that the two of you would be so cute together." Before Roy could react, Grayson had reached over and ruffled his already disheveled hair. Roy squirmed away and cursed, which only seemed to amuse Grayson further. Jerk.

The next hour was spent swapping good natured insults and ordering another round of burger and fries, which Roy promptly devoured. Admittedly, it was the most enjoyable time he'd had in weeks, since before the whole fiasco that began with the Huntress.

The grapnel gun let out a hiss as pressurized gas launched its grappling hook through the air. The hook embedded itself into concrete thirty feet away with a quiet thunk, followed a second later by a man garbed in black and blue swinging himself up by a thin but sturdy cable.

Nightwing relished the feeling of the wind whipping past him, the armor of his suit molded perfectly to his body creating a streamlined body that minimized resistance as he vaulted over the edge of the Blüdhaven Public Library and onto the roof. He crouched on the safety railing, balancing perfectly on the three-inch wide bar and facing the figure that he had been tracking for the past ten minutes through the city.

The figure was a man, clothed all in black and armed to the teeth with guns, ammo and a large sword strapped to his back. Nightwing knew from personal experience that there would also be a great many more weapons that could be concealed on his person. However it was his mask, one side painted a solid black and the other bright orange that told him exactly who the man was.

"I'm starting to wonder when a vigilante can get some peace and quiet around here, what with all you other folks barging in on my turf all the time. Why are you here, Wilson?"

"I see that my reputation preceeds me."

"You caused quite a stir with your activities in Starling. Create enough trouble and you're bound to get a reputation," retorted Nightwing. "Now I'm giving you a choice. Either you leave, or I'm taking you down before you mess things up here as well."

Deathstroke struck without warning. One moment he was still and silent as a statue, and the next he had drawn his sword and struck at the young vigilante. Nightwing had also drawn his weapon - a single escrima stick - and deftly deflected the blow.

Nightwing neatly dodged another slash of the wicked looking blade. He backflipped to put some distance between him and his foe, then with a quick motion pulled out his other escrima stick to block another oncoming blow aimed at his back.

The fight continued on in that manner, each of them trading blows but neither managing to gain the upper hand. Finally, Nightwing charged at Deathstroke, escrima sticks raised to strike high, but at the last instant he dropped to the ground and attempted to sweep the older man off his feet. However, Slade surprised him by jumping into the air and complete avoiding the move that would have given Nightwing an advantage. Before he could react, a fist came crashing onto his face, stunning him temporarily by the sheer brute force behind it.

"Your methods and tactics are impressive, but inferior," sneered Deathstroke. "But don't sell yourself short, boy. You've managed to last longer than most of my enemies."

The vigilante recovered quickly and leapt to his feet, hitting the buttons cleverly concealed in his escrimas' grooves and activating the built in electroshock weapon. Electricity with enough juice to knock out a full grown man ten times over arced and crackled between the pair of sticks. Nightwing grinned despite the blood running down from his nose, staining his teeth red and no doubt lending him a savage appearance.

"Wanna bet?"

Their standoff was abruptly interrupted by the shrill wail of police sirens tearing through the city.

"Ah, pity, and that's my cue to leave."

"What-"

Nightwing heard the clink of a pellet thrown at his feet before his world exploded in bright flash of white light and smoke. He instinctively held his breath, deftly slipping on a small rebreather with one hand to avoid inhaling any potentially dangerous fumes, while the other flew up to his mask to switch on its thermal imaging only to find-

Nothing.

Deathstroke was gone.

Nightwing immediately began calibrating his earpiece's frequency to tune in to the city's police scanner. What he heard crackling over the radio sent icy dread coursing through his system.

"RG-44, Dispatch. Requesting detectives. Possible 207 at St Giles."

St. Giles? Kidnapping? But that would mean-

Roy!

Nightwing sped through the city on his bike, heading South towards the harbor where the shelter was located and all the while cursing himself for not realizing the nature of the attack sooner.

The mercenary had been one big diversion. He had led the resident vigilante on a wild goose chase away from St Giles, allowing his associates plenty of time to obtain their real target, Roy. The why still eluded him, but thing was for sure, this Deathstroke had invaded his city on his watch, attacked him and abducted a civilian from right under his nose. Whatever business he was up to, it was now Nightwing's as well.

And don't let it be said that Bats weren't territorial.

Starling City, here I come.

When it was revealed that Roy had left Starling for Blüdhaven, I immediately had this little headcanon. Apologies for some parts that appear a little unpolished, I've been poking around this fic for two weeks now and just decided to get it over and done with. I hope you enjoyed it and please comment to let me know what you think.

The Deathstroke vs Nightwing fight scene was largely inspired by Arkham City and Origins gameplay.

I do have another little Sara-centric "interlude" planned regarding her "old friend", which I hope I can get out before the new episode is aired.

Title is borrowed from My Chemical Romance's song.