Chapter 5: Enter Spider-Man and Deadpool

Six months had passed since the fall of Kingpin, and the city had changed. Crime hadn't disappeared, but the major players in the criminal underworld had been shaken, scattering to the shadows. In their place, a new wave of threats emerged, keeping Nightwing on constant alert.

Dick Grayson had fully committed to being Nightwing, patrolling New York City every night, honing his skills, and protecting the people. He felt a sense of responsibility toward the city, but it also kept him grounded, giving him purpose after the loss of Wally. Over the months, however, rumors had spread of other heroes emerging, strange vigilantes with powers and abilities that far exceeded the norm.

One night, while chasing a group of bank robbers on his sleek black motorcycle, Nightwing zoomed through the neon-lit streets of the city. His bike roared as he weaved in and out of traffic, the robbers ahead desperately trying to outrun him in their beat-up sedan. They made a sharp turn into a narrow alleyway, tires screeching against the asphalt.

Nightwing was about to follow them when something caught his eye—an unexpected figure descending from the sky.

A man in a red and blue costume, with intricate black webbing across his suit, landed gracefully on the roof of the robbers' car, causing the vehicle to screech to a halt. The figure bent down, peeking through the windshield as he waved casually at the terrified criminals.

"Hey there, fellas! Mind if I hitch a ride?" the man in red quipped, his voice playful and full of energy. "Also, not the best getaway vehicle choice, just saying. Next time, maybe go for something that doesn't look like it came out of a junkyard?"

Nightwing watched from a nearby rooftop, eyebrows raised in curiosity. He crouched low, his escrima sticks at the ready, wondering who this new player was.

The robbers, clearly panicked, slammed on the gas, but the man in the red suit simply flipped off the roof, landing in front of the car. With astonishing strength, he dug his hands into the hood and brought the speeding vehicle to an abrupt stop. Metal crumpled beneath his grip, and the robbers stumbled out, clutching guns and charging at him in desperation.

The man in red dodged every attack with ease, his movements almost too fast to follow. He twisted, leapt, and somersaulted through the air, all the while delivering rapid-fire quips.

"Whoa! Careful there! Swing and a miss! You guys ever considered a career in baseball?" he taunted, landing a roundhouse kick on one of the robbers, sending him flying into a wall.

He followed up by shooting strange web-like strands from his wrists, immobilizing the remaining criminals with practiced precision. In less than a minute, the robbers were all down, tied up in sticky webs and groaning on the ground.

Nightwing, impressed but still cautious, decided to make his presence known. He leaped from the rooftop, landing with a quiet thud behind the mysterious hero. His arms crossed, he couldn't help but smile as he said, "You trying to steal my job or something?"

The man in red jumped, clearly startled, before spinning around to face him. "Whoa, Nightwing! Is that really you? Oh man, I'm such a huge fan! You're awesome!" His excitement was almost childlike as he rambled on, his words spilling out in a rush.

Nightwing chuckled, relaxing a bit. "Thanks, but may I get your name?"

The man straightened up, puffing out his chest in mock seriousness. "I'm Spider-Man!"

Nightwing raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Spider-Man, huh? You sound pretty young. Shouldn't you be called Spider-Boy or something?"

Spider-Man, clearly trying to deepen his voice terribly, replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about." He then made a show of clearing his throat and flexing his arms, though his exaggerated posture did little to hide his youthful energy.

Before Nightwing could respond, a sudden alert crackled through his earpiece. "Shootout in progress, 4th Avenue penthouse," the dispatcher said in a hurried tone.

Nightwing's smile faded as he turned to Spider-Man. "There's a shootout nearby. You want to help?"

Spider-Man's eyes behind the mask seemed to light up, and he eagerly nodded. "Lead the way!"

With that, the two heroes raced off into the night. What followed was a seamless team-up. Nightwing observed Spider-Man's incredible agility and strength, noting how effortlessly the younger hero dodged bullets and subdued criminals with his webbing. In turn, Nightwing offered guidance, teaching Spider-Man how to think strategically in a fight, how to anticipate an opponent's moves, and how to strike with precision.

---

Over the next few weeks, Nightwing and Spider-Man teamed up several times. Their partnership, though unlikely, became surprisingly effective. Nightwing had even given Spider-Man a communicator, allowing them to stay in contact and coordinate their efforts.

One night, however, things took a strange and darker turn.

Dick was in his apartment, tuning into the police scanner, as he usually did before going out on patrol. His muscles were still sore from his latest bout with a group of thugs, but something in his gut told him the night wasn't over.

"Reports of a shootout in a penthouse near 42nd Street," the scanner blared.

Dick's brow furrowed. "Another one? Something's not adding up."

He quickly suited up, grabbing his escrima sticks and heading out the door. His mind raced as he sped across the rooftops, trying to piece together what might be happening. As he neared the penthouse, a chill ran down his spine. He could feel it—something was wrong.

When he arrived, the scene was worse than he'd expected. Multiple bodies littered the floor, their lifeless forms marked with gunshots and… slash marks? Nightwing crouched next to one of the bodies, examining the wounds closely. Whoever—or whatever—had done this wasn't your typical gunman.

"What the hell happened here?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

A sudden scream pierced the air, drawing Nightwing's attention. He sprinted toward the source of the sound, his heart pounding in his chest. He skidded to a stop just in time to see a man in a red and black costume holding another man by the collar, lifting him off the ground with ease.

"Where is Francis?" the man in the red suit growled, his voice full of unhinged fury.

The terrified man sobbed, shaking his head wildly. "I-I don't know! Please, I don't know anything!"

The man in red pulled out a gun, pressing it against the sobbing man's temple. "Wrong answer, sunshine."

Nightwing acted on instinct. With a swift motion, he hurled one of his escrima sticks at the gunman, striking him in the arm and knocking the weapon loose.

"What the hell was that for?!" the man in red yelled, turning to face Nightwing. His tone was annoyed, but there was something unsettling in his demeanor, as if he was completely unfazed by the violence around him.

"I can't let you kill people in my city," Nightwing said, his voice firm. "Who are you, anyway?"

The man grinned under his mask. "The name's Deadpool, and this motherfucking cockroach here is part of the reason I look like this!" Without warning, Deadpool yanked his mask up, revealing a grotesquely scarred face beneath.

Nightwing's stomach churned at the sight, and for a moment, he felt like he might lose his dinner. He quickly regained his composure, though, as Deadpool pulled his mask back down, seemingly amused by the reaction.

"You're gonna let me finish my business or what, boy wonder?" Deadpool asked, twirling his swords dramatically.

"No. I don't care what happened to you, but I can't let you kill him," Nightwing responded, stepping forward and preparing his escrima sticks.

Deadpool sighed exaggeratedly. "Guess I'll just have to kick your ass then, huh?" He drew both of his katanas and charged at Nightwing.

The fight began, and Nightwing immediately found himself on the defensive. Deadpool's fighting style was chaotic and unpredictable, filled with unnecessary flourishes and jokes. Every time Nightwing tried to get a read on him, Deadpool would switch up his attacks, throwing in acrobatic moves that didn't seem to follow any traditional pattern.

"Come on, is that all you've got?" Deadpool taunted, slashing at Nightwing with his blades. "I thought you were one of the Bat's kids! Oh wait, maybe you're more of a… bird boy?"

Nightwing barely dodged the attack, spinning his escrima sticks and delivering a swift strike to Deadpool's side. But Deadpool didn't even flinch.

"Whoa there, Spandex Boy!" Deadpool laughed, sidestepping another blow. "You really need to work on that form. Have you considered Pilates? It does wonders for the core."

Despite the barrage of jokes, Nightwing knew he couldn't afford to let Deadpool's unpredictability get to him. He waited for an opening, watching the way Deadpool moved, how he overextended with each strike.

Finally, he saw it. As Deadpool lunged forward with both swords, Nightwing slid beneath his attack, using his agility to land a hard strike against Deadpool's leg with his electrified escrima stick. The electric shock from Nightwing's escrima stick sent a jolt through Deadpool's body, momentarily stunning him. He staggered, his muscles twitching uncontrollably as the current coursed through him.

"Ow! Okay, not gonna lie, that tickled," Deadpool muttered, shaking off the effects like it was nothing. "But guess what? I've had worse!"

He swung his katana wildly, clearly unfazed by the damage. Nightwing knew he had to press his advantage quickly. Without missing a beat, he combined his escrima sticks into a bo-staff and delivered a swift strike to Deadpool's chest, knocking him backward.

Deadpool somersaulted through the air, landing in a crouch. "Oh, you're good, bird boy. But not good enough to handle all of *this*," he said with a sweeping motion toward himself, as if presenting some grand prize.

Nightwing kept his distance, twirling the bo-staff in his hands. "You know, for someone who's constantly talking, you don't seem to be paying much attention to the fact that I'm winning."

"Pffft. Winning? Oh, sweetie, you have no idea how this game works," Deadpool said, springing back onto his feet with an acrobatic flip. He raised one hand to his ear and pretended to speak into a headset. "Yeah, Deadpool here. Can you order me two chimichangas for later? Oh, and tell the director to cue my comeback in five, four—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Nightwing charged, landing a series of rapid strikes. Deadpool tried to dodge, but Nightwing's movements were sharp and precise. A spinning kick knocked Deadpool off balance again, and this time, Nightwing followed up with a strong jab to his midsection with the bo-staff. The electric current surged once more, and Deadpool convulsed, collapsing onto the ground.

Nightwing stood over him, catching his breath. "It's over, Deadpool. You're going to jail."

Deadpool groaned, rolling over onto his back. "Jail, huh? Can I get the deluxe suite? You know, the one with cable and room service?" He gave a lazy salute before pointing in a random direction. "What's that over there?"

Against his better judgment, Nightwing glanced over his shoulder, momentarily distracted by the empty space Deadpool had gestured toward. By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. There was a strange *fwoosh* sound, and when he looked back, Deadpool was gone.

Nightwing stared at the now-empty rooftop, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "I can't believe I fell for that…" He shook his head and sighed deeply. The sheer absurdity of Deadpool's antics had thrown him off, something that rarely happened. But there was no denying that the man was unlike anyone he'd ever fought before.

As the sound of police sirens approached, Nightwing knew he had to move. He grappled to a nearby rooftop, watching as the authorities swarmed the penthouse below. From his vantage point, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. First Spider-Man, now Deadpool—something was changing in the city, and it was only a matter of time before more powerful, unpredictable forces emerged.

When he returned to his apartment later that night, he tossed his mask onto his desk and sank into his chair. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with everything that had happened.

"The world's getting weirder and weirder," he muttered to himself.

New York was starting to feel like an entirely different. With Spider-Man, Deadpool, and possibly others lurking in the shadows, Nightwing knew he had to be more prepared than ever.

As he stared at the communicator he'd given to Spider-Man, he couldn't help but wonder if he would need more allies for the storm that was surely coming. This city, with its chaotic blend of criminals and vigilantes was becoming something more than he had anticipated.