echos of the Grid

Kai didn't sleep. Couldn't, not after Robin's sword nearly took his arm off and Red Hood's cryptic warnings rattled around in his skull. He'd found a perch on a rusted fire escape, tucked above a street that smelled like burnt rubber and regret. The morpher glowed faintly, a restless little nightlight, and Gotham's pulse—sirens, shouts, the occasional gunshot—kept him wired. He was in over his head, and the only thing keeping him afloat was a gadget that talked like a medieval GPS.

The sky was bruising purple with dawn when a shadow landed silently on the railing beside him. Kai jolted, morpher flaring, but relaxed—barely—when he saw the blue bird emblem across a broad chest. Nightwing. Dick Grayson, if the comics were still gospel. No cape, just a lean frame and a pair of escrima sticks twirling lazily in one hand. He grinned, all easy charm, like he hadn't just ninja-dropped from nowhere.

"Rough night, huh?" Nightwing said, balancing on the rail like it was a tightrope. "Heard you tangled with Damian. And Jason. You've got a knack for picking fights."

Kai snorted, rubbing his neck. "They picked me. I'm just trying to not die again."

"Again?" Nightwing's brow quirked, but he didn't press. Instead, he hopped down, landing light as a cat, and nodded at the morpher. "That thing's got everyone's attention. Mind showing me what it does?"

Kai hesitated. Showing off felt like handing over a loaded gun, but Nightwing's vibe—calm, steady—made him feel less like prey. "It… morphs me. Armor, strength, speed. I don't really get it yet."

"Then let's figure it out," Nightwing said, stepping back and spinning an escrima stick. "Roof's clear. No Bats, no brats. Show me."

Kai stood, brushing rust off his jeans. "What, like a demo? I don't even know how to—"

"Morph," the morpher chimed, unhelpfully loud. Green light flared, and the armor snapped on, visor clicking into place. Kai stumbled, caught off guard, and Nightwing chuckled.

"Nice entrance. Can you control it?"

"Uh… sometimes?" Kai flexed his hands, the gauntlets gleaming. "It's got a mind of its own."

"Then let's tame it." Nightwing tossed an escrima stick into the air and caught it. "Hit me. Hard as you can."

Kai blinked. "You serious?"

"Yep. I'll dodge. You learn." He grinned wider. "Unless you're scared."

That did it. Kai lunged, fist swinging, and Nightwing sidestepped like it was nothing, tapping Kai's shoulder with the stick as he passed. "Too slow. Again."

They went at it—Kai throwing punches, kicks, anything he could muster, and Nightwing weaving through it all, effortless. The armor made Kai faster, stronger, but sloppy. He overreached, stumbled, and ate gravel more than once. Nightwing didn't mock him, though—just offered pointers, sharp and quick. "Keep your weight low. Don't lean into it. Let the suit do the work."

After ten minutes, Kai was panting, armor flickering as the morpher hummed. "Form shift available," it said. "Select: Wolf."

"Wolf?" Kai echoed, and before he could process, the armor shifted—claws sprouting, stance lowering, a growl rumbling in his throat. He moved, a blur of silver and black, and Nightwing barely dodged, flipping back with a laugh.

"Now that's cool!" Nightwing said, landing on his hands and springing up. "What else you got?"

Kai focused, the morpher pinging again. "Form shift: Hawk." The armor slimmed, wings flaring from his back—not real feathers, but sleek metal plates. He leapt, soaring a few feet before crashing into a vent with a clang. Nightwing winced, then clapped.

"Points for effort. Needs work."

Kai groaned, pulling himself up as the armor reverted. "It's like a video game with no tutorial."

"You'll get it," Nightwing said, tossing him a water bottle from who-knows-where. "Tech like that? It's bonded to you. Figure out what it wants, and you're golden."

"Wants?" Kai caught the bottle, frowning. "It's a machine."

"Is it?" Nightwing's tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp. "Feels alive to me. Like it's testing you."

Kai didn't answer, just drank, the cold snapping him alert. Kaelric's memory flashed—betrayal, the Grid shard. Was this thing testing him too? Before he could spiral, a crack split the air—a gunshot, close. Nightwing tensed, head tilting toward the sound.

"Stay here," he said, already moving, but Kai's morpher flared. "Threat proximity: 50 meters. Engage?"

"No way I'm sitting this out," Kai said, armor snapping back on. Nightwing shot him a look—half-annoyed, half-amused—then nodded.

"Fine. Follow my lead. And don't crash into anything."

They vaulted off the roof, landing in an alley where three figures wrestled—a woman in a torn coat, two thugs pinning her. One waved a pistol, the other a knife. Kai didn't wait. He charged, wolf form kicking in, and tackled Pistol Guy, claws pinning his arm. Nightwing took Knife Guy out with a spinning kick, smooth as silk.

The woman scrambled up, wide-eyed. "Thanks," she gasped, bolting before they could ask questions. Kai stood, retracting the armor, and Nightwing clapped his shoulder.

"See? You're a natural. Just gotta—"

A shadow loomed overhead, bigger than Robin's, heavier. A cape billowed, and a gravelly voice cut through the dawn. "Grayson. Who's this?"

Kai turned, heart stopping. Batman. The real deal, cowl and all, staring him down like he'd just failed an audition he didn't know he was in.

Nightwing sighed. "Here we go."