𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 // a closed starter for @warsraging
There was a chill in the air that night, which when you live in a city like Gotham, is never a good sign. Barbara was perched on a rooftop, conveniently cloaked by darkness. There was no one in particular she was keeping an eye out for, it wasn’t a routine stakeout, there was no reason why she was out. Sometimes it was just nice for her to have a bird’s eye view of the city. To see everything while incapable of being seen. It was a getaway for her when things got stressful, her safe place so to speak. But if anyone told Barbara that they knew she needed a safe place, she’d probably punch them. She was too grown for that, too strong. Too hardcore. But there she sat, watching the cars speed through stop lights so fast that the only thing she could see were the red blurs from their tail lights that looked like a photo taken with the camera’s shutter speed all the way down.
There was a chill in the air. Barbara couldn’t shake it, despite how immersed in her thoughts she was. No matter how many cars she witnessed speed through stop lights, or how obscenely loud the city had become at this time of night. It sent chills up her spine in the worst way. Something just wasn’t right. In the midst of her trying to decipher what felt wrong, she heard footsteps behind her. Okay, time to teach whoever’s stupid enough to sneak up on Batgirl a lesson. Barbara thought to herself, standing up and turning around to see a familiar face -- well, two-thirds of a familiar face around the mask. Immediately her mind was put to ease and every tense muscle in her body relaxed. The figure in the shadows emerged and revealed itself to be a man in a black and blue suit with shaggy black hair. Nightwing.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she quipped, a smirk forming on her face.