My name is Dick Grayson. Ever since I was young, I made a vow to uphold justice, and lived under the shadow of a dark knight. But the dark knight has his city, and I needed my own. It was time I moved out of the dark knight's shadow, and step up. This is my city. My story. And now, it's time for me to rise.

The Present Day

It was no big surprise: Bludhaven was one of the worst cities in the United States of America. It was poor, dangerous, and corrupt from the top-down. Only the rich got richer, and everyone else… well, they were having a good day if they weren't mugged on the way to work. Crime ruled the streets, and the cops might as well have been criminals. There were a few decent cops, sure, but one good apple doesn't purify a whole bunch- especially not in a city like Bludhaven.

While the cops might be next to useless, there was one thing that criminals feared. For the past five years the rumors had persisted, but there was never any solid evidence. And yet, one by one the criminals of Bludhaven, from the big, blockbuster mobsters to the smallest and pettiest of thugs, began to believe in what the police assured them was nothing more than an urban myth. An urban myth that made them look over their shoulders every time they saw a shadow.

And so it was that one wet night, a gang of thugs gathered at the docks. They were small time- unprofessional local hires, as could be told by their lack of uniformity. Some wore red hoodies, some wore brown leather jackets; some wore jeans, some wore sweat pants. In all cases, however, they carried with them assault rifles. Leading the pack was a balding man in a brown suit.

Marching his band of about twenty, he headed up to the security gate, where a uniformed guard stood on watch, chowing down on some Chinese food. "Evening, Mr. MacGuffin," the security guard greeted the man in the suit.

"Good evening, Mr. Hanlon," Mr. MacGuffin replied. "I'm just bringing my workers to unload some shipments."

"Is the grass whiter on the other side, Mr. MacGuffin?" Mr. Hanlon asked with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile.

"It always is- and the paper's greener on your side," Mr. MacGuffin bantered back.

"I always do like it when that happens. Go on ahead, Mr. MacGuffin- I think your shipment's number is 441984."

"Much obliged." Turning then to his gang, the suited man yelled, "Alright boys, let's go! And don't forget- one screw up, and you don't get paid!" The gang moved into the shipping yard while Mr. Hanlon returned to eating his Chinese food, yawning slightly. Guard duty was truly boring, thought Mr. Hanlon to himself- there was simply no excitement at all from guard duty.

Meanwhile, from a rooftop across the yard, a figure put down the binoculars they had been holding up to view the proceedings below. They smiled.

The Past

"Remember, Robin: your mind is your greatest weapon," a strong voice instructed from the shadows. The young teen in the center of the dimly lit room, hearing the echoing advice, nodded and closed his eyes. "Keep your mind sharp, and your will resolute. With them, you can take care of anything."

"But how do I know that for sure?" the young teen asked, his voice wavering and clearly unsure.

"Because we are detectives, and that's how we solve crimes."

Taking these words to heart, Robin took a deep breath. Sharpening his mind, he began to think of where his opponent could strike from, while simultaneously keeping his senses on a constant alert for anything that would give him a clue of where the attack was coming from.

Suddenly, a figure leaped from Robin's left. Reacting quickly, he rolled backwards and blocked an incoming elbow, counterattacking with a kick aimed for the figure's head. Seeing this, the figure grabbed onto Robin's leg and promptly threw him onto the ground.

As Robin lay on the ground, slightly dazed, the figure reminded him, "Keep your mind sharp. Always be thinking. All the martial arts I teach you and the gadgets you have at your disposal will mean nothing if you lose focus for even a millisecond and stop thinking." Having said thus, he offered the young teen a hand. Taking it, Robin was helped back onto his feet. "You can do better- I know you can. Now, let's do it again."

Nodding, Robin closed his eyes as the figure returned to the shadows. He simply stood in the center, keeping his mind and his senses in tune. His focus was sharpened- nothing distracted him, not even his breathing. The only things that mattered were his senses to pick up clues, and his mind to think up strategies-

The figure leaped. Robin opened his eyes.

The Present

"We're almost done, boss!" one of the thugs announced to Mr. MacGuffin. Two trucks, already at the docks, were almost filled with the contents of crate 441984, and most of the thugs were smiling at how easy the job was.

"Good! Then hurry it up and let's get out of here- my wife's waiting for me with a steak at home, and I don't want to miss it," Mr. MacGuffin hollered.

Suddenly, a laugh echoed from a dark corner of the loading area- a confident laugh, something that sent shivers down the thugs' spines. Just as this was happening, some things flew through the air and punctured the tires of the trucks.

"Wha- What was that!?" Mr. MacGuffin asked, surprised. "Somebody check out that laugh! Someone else, check those tires!"

Nodding, one of the thugs cautiously inched towards the dark corner, while another checked on the tires. He confirmed that all the tires were flat, but he confirmed something else: what had punctured the tires were metallic, and in the shape of a bird's wing.

"BOSS!" the thug yelled. "We've got trouble!"

"What are you talking about?" Mr. MacGuffin demanded.

"Oh, nothing. Just me!" a new voice cockily responded. Falling from above the group of nineteen, he threw some balls, and upon making contact with the ground, smoke was released from them, quickly engulfing the area and making the thugs cough and retch. While the thugs tried to get a hold of themselves, the newcomer quickly went to work: he took out what looked like two batons from his back and, moving swiftly from one thug to another, quickly took them down.

Meanwhile, the one that had gone to check on the laugh simply stood rooted to his spot, paralyzed by the suddenness of the turn of events. He gripped onto his assault rifle for dear life- after all, his life might actually depend on it.

Within the smoke cloud, the newcomer had easily taken down the inexperienced thugs. Moving on to Mr. MacGuffin, the newcomer leapt at the suited man, knocking aside the handgun he brought with him. "Y'know, I think the cops are gonna love these photos I took of you guys moving this shipment," he taunted, taking out a few pictures.

"Who are you?" Mr. MacGuffin asked with a panic in his voice.

Instead of responding, the newcomer just smiled, before knocking him out with a single punch. As Mr. MacGuffin went down, he tied up the suited man with some rope from his gauntlet, and then placed the photos in his jacket pocket. By this time he noticed that the smoke was dissipating and, remembering that there was still one more thug, ran up to a crate and leapt up, swiftly reaching the top and moving to a new position.

Once the smoke had dissipated, the thug inched forward, his assault rifle pointed, his finger on the trigger. To his horror, everyone was down and out cold. "Hey Vinnie! Joe! Aldo!" the thug asked. "Guys, get up! What the f-"

"Didn't your mommy ever teach you not to curse?" the newcomer asked, leaping from the sky and tossing another metallic wing. It made contact with the thug's hand and, in pain, the thug dropped his assault rifle. Taking advantage of this situation, the newcomer rolled forward and quickly delivered an uppercut to the thug's glass jaw. The thug's head was thrown back and he was knocked down on the ground- out cold.

Taking a look at his handiwork, the newcomer sighed and then said to himself, "Another night, another drug shipment in the 'haven foiled. Now for my favorite part: clean up."

-X-

Five squad cars rolled into the docks, sirens blazing. The responding officers found Mr. MacGuffin and his thugs all tied up, with photos of their illicit activities in Mr. MacGuffin's pocket.

As the BPD's Crime Scene Unit went about their work processing the scene, a large man exited his plain car. He wore the uniform of the BPD, but had the air of someone in charge. Noticing a man with a long coat smoking a cigarette nearby, he barked, "Soames! What the hell happened here?"

"Just a drug shipment stopped," Soames nonchalantly replied. "It was him too- and now we have proof."

"Proof?" the man asked.

Soames jerked his head in the direction of Mr. Hanlon, who was giving his testimony to a uniformed officer.

"Is that so? Well, I'm not gonna have masks in my city. Gotham, Starling, Central- they can do whatever the hell they want. But I'll be damned if I have masks in my city!" the man hollered. "Soames! Tomorrow, we're forming the task force!"

As the man marched back to his unmarked car, Soames simply kept smoking his cigarette. "Guess it's time then…" he muttered to himself.

-X-

The following day, the Bludhaven Police Department set up a press conference. Speaking from a podium to a house packed with reporters, Chief Delmore Redhorn announced with a strict expression, "Citizens of Bludhaven: last night, the Bludhaven Police Department has confirmed the presence of a very dangerous individual. For the past five years, he has evaded identification, despite the best and most vigilant efforts of our department, but now we have identified the criminal the department has called 'Nightwing'.

"In response to this, I, Chief Redhorn, am hereby creating the anti-Nightwing task force to apprehend this menace before he becomes a bigger danger to this city. Citizens, if you see this figure, please do not engage him- call the police and leave the area. I swear to you, we will capture this criminal!"

As he walked away from the podium, the press in a tumult over the breaking news story, he muttered to himself, "I'm gonna take down this mask- alive or dead."

-X-

From his small apartment building, Dick Grayson put down the bowl of cereal he was eating and turned off his TV. "Criminal? I mean, I guess what I do is technically against the law, but criminal? C'mon… don't I at least qualify as a vigilante?"

Suddenly, his cell phone began ringing. Seeing the caller ID, he cheerily answered, "Hey Babs!"

"Dick? What have you gotten yourself into now?" a female voice exasperatedly asked from the other end of the line.

"Nothing I can't handle, though apparently I'm the BPD's enemy now. Guess there aren't any Jim Gordons in the BPD."

"Will you need help?"

"I'll be fine, Barb," he assured her.

"You better be, former Boy Wonder," she teased. "You wouldn't want me coming down there and kicking your ass, would you?"

"Like you could!" he laughed.

"You know I could!" she answered.

"Yeah, you've got a point… Hey, I gotta go- it's almost time for my shift. I'll see you later?"

"See you later, Dick." With that, the call was ended, and Dick Grayson placed the phone on his counter top. He rushed to his room and changed out of his PJs and into a casual pair of everyday clothes. Grabbing his stuff, he ran out of the room and down the stairs, before exiting the building and running out to the sidewalks.

"I guess this is where it begins," he muttered to himself. "The beginning of Nightwing."

A/N: Hey everyone! BKA37 here. I hope you enjoyed the Pilot episode for Nightwing. Please feel free to leave me feedback on how I can improve this series- kinda hard to judge based off of one episode, but I'll be making this plea constantly, so hey, more material to critique soon! I know this was pretty surface level, but just like Captain Amell has said before, the goal is to make sure that Episode 2 is better than Episode 1, and Episode 3 is better than Episode 2, and so on and so forth. With that in mind, I'll see everyone next week, Thursday, with Episode 2 of Nightwing. Until then, stay awesome, everyone!