The morning after the party was grey and grim, as if Gotham itself sensed what was coming.
Inside the Grandmaster's office, the mood was no different.
Dark wood paneling soaked in shadow, incense curling through the air, and five men standing beneath the looming owl insignia carved into the stone wall: the Grandmaster at his desk, Dick standing beside Sam, Pauline leaning against a column with arms crossed, and Frank silently brooding near the window.
The Grandmaster's gloved fingers tapped rhythmically on a leather-bound ledger. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and cool.
> "I appreciate your intervention last night, Grayson. Evelyn tells me those degenerates were handled cleanly."
Dick gave a polite nod but said nothing.
> "However…" the Grandmaster continued, tone sharpening, "the very fact that they felt emboldened enough to harass her—my daughter—tells me our fear factor has… waned. We've tolerated the gang's growing insolence long enough."
He closed the ledger with a hard thump.
> "It's time to remind them who runs this city from the shadows."
He looked to Dick and Pauline with piercing focus.
> "You two. Find the gang. Make an example. I want two skulls shattered. Public. Loud. The rest will fall in line."
Dick didn't flinch.
Pauline cracked his neck and smirked. "Got it. Any preferences?"
> "Surprise me," the Grandmaster said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
---
Court Tunnels — On the Way to the Garage
Pauline and Dick walked side by side, moving briskly through the narrow, lamplit corridors beneath Gotham's skin.
> "We'll start with Biff," Pauline said, tossing Dick a fresh clip for his sidearm. "Low-tier hitter for the crew. Always runs his mouth. Lives above a noodle shop in Chinatown. He'll know where the rest of them are holed up."
Dick caught the clip but didn't load it.
> "You always this casual about executions?" he asked dryly.
Pauline shrugged. "Only when they're dumb enough to touch the Court's bloodline. Or talk about it."
Dick's jaw clenched, but he kept it hidden behind his mask of professionalism. The Court's justice was swift and brutal—he knew that when he signed onto this mission. But the deeper he went, the more it felt like drowning in acid: every move forward cost him a piece of himself.
Still, he had to play the part.
He had to stay in character—Nightwing undercover was dead. What remained was Grayson, Court loyalist.
And right now, Grayson had a job to do.
---
Later — Chinatown, Above the Noodle Shop
The smell of soy, oil, and cigarette smoke clung to the hallway as Dick and Pauline ascended the narrow staircase.
Pauline adjusted his gloves, his mood shifting to business.
> "Biff's got a taste for weed and reality shows. If he's not high, he's asleep. If he's not asleep, he's talking too much."
Pauline didn't knock.
He kicked the door in.
CRACK!
Inside, a cluttered apartment—dishes piled in the sink, TV blaring a rerun of Metro Highrise, and a shirtless, wiry man stumbling out of bed with a vape in one hand and panic in his eyes.
> "Wait—wait, hold up! What the—?!"
Pauline grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
> "Morning, Biff," he growled. "You and your buddies stepped out of line. Now we need to know where they're stepping next."
> "I-I don't know!" Biff stammered. "I didn't touch no girl, I swear!"
> "But you know the guys who did," Dick said coolly.
Biff hesitated. Dick stepped closer, lowering his voice to a chilling whisper.
> "You tell us where they are, and maybe you keep your knees. Maybe."
Sweating, Biff caved.
> "They're at the auto yard on 49th and Nolan! Penguin's crew's been giving 'em safehouse space there—last I heard, they're laying low with guns and cash!"
Pauline let go of his shirt, letting Biff slide to the floor.
> "Appreciate it," he said. "Oh, and if I hear you breathed a word of this…"
He pressed a single gloved finger to Biff's lips.
> "You won't be breathing at all."
---
As They Left the Apartment
Dick said nothing as they walked back toward the stairwell. The wheels in his head spun fast.
An auto yard. 49th and Nolan.
He filed it away for a dead drop to Bruce.
And two names would have to die—publicly—or at least appear to.
He had to find a way to do it…
…without becoming what the Court believed he already was.
The rusted gate to the auto yard screeched open as Dick and Pauline stepped out of the Court's black sedan. Grease and gasoline hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood and burnt rubber from a thousand jobs long finished.
They moved with purpose—calm, direct, unreadable in their black suits and owl masks.
Just two ghosts in broad daylight.
Near a stack of gutted sedans, a cluster of gang members lounged around a barrel fire, laughing, smoking, and sharing a bottle. The laughter turned crude as one of them elbowed the other.
"Did you see Grandmaster's daughter at that party last week? Damn. That ass in that silver thing—"
Another cut him off, eyes going wide.
"Yo… yo—shut the hell up."
He pointed across the yard.
"Shit—it's the Court!"
Panic erupted like a spark in dry grass.
"RUN!"
Gunfire cracked through the air as the gang scattered like roaches. The clatter of bullet casings echoed off junked metal and oil drums. Dick and Pauline dove behind a rusted-out SUV as rounds peppered the frame.
"Well," Pauline muttered, checking his magazine, "that answers the question of who knew better."
"We go loud?" Dick asked.
Pauline grinned. "Court's orders."
They moved.
Dick rolled right, firing two precise shots—non-lethal, center-mass—dropping a gunman behind a burned-out tow truck. Pauline charged left with a roar, laying down heavy cover fire, his aim far less merciful.
A gang member popped up from behind a tire stack—Dick flipped forward, disarming him mid-air, and sent him into a heap with a sweeping kick.
Another goon tried to flank them with a shotgun.
Pauline gunned him down without hesitation.
Dick grit his teeth—keep the mask on. Keep the cover. Stay alive.
The auto yard became a warzone of screams, gunshots, and crashing metal. Sparks flew from ricochets. A propane tank ignited in the back corner, bursting into flame and lighting the sky orange.
"Back! Back!" one gang member yelled. "Get the ride! GO!"
Two men dove into a souped-up black charger parked at the far end of the lot. The engine roared to life and fishtailed through the exit, tires screeching.
"They're running!" Dick shouted, already sprinting.
Pauline was right behind him.
"I'll drive—GET IN!"
They dove into the Court's car, tires screeching as Pauline swung it around and floored the gas pedal, blasting out of the yard in hot pursuit.
As they tore through the industrial district streets—headlights cutting through smoke and chaos—the chase had begun.
Two targets.
Two bullets owed.
And no room left for mercy.
The gang members race down the industrial estate with dick and Pauline hot on there trail, the Gotham weather turned grey before releasing a hell storm of rain.
Dick leans out of the passenger window and takes a couple of shots at the fleeing car, trying to shoot out it's tires.
"I'm going to ram them of the road" Pauline said as he puts his foot on the gas pedal, their car rear ended the other car and the gang members lost control and crashed into a pole.
Pauline slows down the car before coming to a complete stop.
"You ready" Pauline asks as he opens the diver side door, dick looks at him for a second before replying "I guess so".
Both men get out of the car and slowly make their way to the gang members, the rain was now coming down in full force as if it knew what was going to happen.
When they reach the car they saw that the gang member in the passenger seat was slouched over but the gang member in the driver's seat was wide awake and well aware of his surroundings, the moment he sew the owl masks he feel into a complete panic.
"Please I don't want to fucking die, please" the gang member cried.
Pauline looks at him with unsympathetic eyes before looking at dick "kill him" dick looks at Pauline then the gang member.
His pistol feels heavy in his hand, dick rises his pistol slowly to the gang member's head, dick takes a good look at the gang member he just a kid dick thinks to himself he doesn't deserve to die like this, sure they were going to do horrible things to Evelyn but still.
A gun shot rings out but it's not Dick's, Pauline who's gun barrow is smoking from the shot looks at dick.
"What the hell is wrong with you dick these animals don't deserve mercy" Pauline as he walked around the front of the car loading another shot into the gang member hitting him in the chest, Pauline makes his way to the passenger side and puts his gun on the side of the gang head.
Click "mmm I'm out, we'll it doesn't matter anyway this guy is dead also". Pauline then reached in the gang member's pocket and grab a pack of cigarettes.
Pauline grabs one out of the box before throwing the box to dick who let the box hit him and not bothering to catch it.
"Ohh for fuck sake Grayson snap out of it these animals where going to do horrible things to Evelyn what we did was justice" Pauline said almost proud of himself.
"Perhaps, but they where still kids and they didn't need to die like this" dick said still looking at the body's.
"Then they should've made smarter decisions in their very short lives and dick you better get use to it, this is the life who live now it would be a shame if something bad happened to you" Pauline said as he walked back to their car.
Dick stares at the body's a second longer wondering how long he can keep this up before this mission breaks him, wondering if barbara will still see the man she loves or a broken man who has nothing left.