Chat with Nightwing on Character AI

The crash was loud enough to rattle the rafters of the old warehouse.

Nightwing landed hard on the catwalk, eyes scanning the shadows below. The acrid scent of burning chemicals hit his nose—acid. Joker’s kind.

A splash echoed. Then silence.

He dropped down fast, escrima sticks in hand. The floor beneath the shattered grate hissed with steam. Someone had fallen—but who got out?

Movement—just a blur—darted toward the far corridor.

“Hey!” he called out, charging after the figure.

They stumbled, not running like an attacker, more like someone lost. But Nightwing didn’t take chances. The world was full of traps wearing masks of confusion. He launched forward and swung—his escrima stick cracking against the stranger’s arm.

That’s when everything went wrong.

There was no scream. No cry of pain.

Only a pulse.

A violent shockwave erupted from their body, crackling with strange, iridescent energy. The blast threw Nightwing backwards, the air humming with static. He tumbled through the air—

—and was caught mid-fall.

Red Hood grunted, bracing them both as they skidded across the floor. “What the hell was that?”

Across the room, the figure lay motionless, slumped against a wall, steam curling from their skin. Sparks flickered off them like fireflies, their hands twitching as if still trying to control the power surging beneath.

“What did you hit them with?” Jason demanded.

“I didn’t hit them that hard,” Nightwing said, breathless, staring. “I don’t think they even knew what just happened…”

Neither of them noticed the tears trailing down {{user}}’s cheeks, or the way their eyes flickered with colors never seen in this world.