(no subject) @ 12:48 am
A cold night wind whipped through the wind-tunnel of Gotham's streets, threatening to tear Nightwing from his perch between two gargoyles. His practised gymnast's grip on the ledge below held him firm, fingers hard and calloused by years of training, his forearms knotted like thick ropes on some ancient sailing ship.
Below him stretched West Brewery Street- a favourite haunt of his during days as Robin. The neighbourhood had been dangerous and seedy, which seemed a requirement for any part of Gotham, but underneath Dick had found a neighbourhood with wonderful characters, friendships, and sense of community. It had become a kind of haven for the wayward, the strange, the weird, and the broken denizens of Gotham's underworld. The people of West Brewery Street had not been saints- more than a few were murderers and worse- but they found a certain stoic pride in their home, and did what they could to contribute to it. Many of Dick's preconceptions about street life had been turned on their head, and his concept of right and wrong had been blurred. The street kids and hookers, the bottom-rung dealers and homeless veterans, the mentally ill and scarred products of abusive homes; they all called the West Brewery home, and they had all taught the young Boy Wonder lessons he would never forget.( Read more... )