First, he was flying.

He was in an airplane, or a helicopter, or some other type of vehicle. He relaxed in his seat as he headed towards some destination he could care less about, let alone remember. The window next to him provided a wondrous view. Sunlight streamed through the clouds creating a perfectly serene visage. The windows on the far side held an equally marvelous view. Stars glistened like tiny pearls in the dark night sky. As he sat, he could almost feel the wind racing through the sky.

Piece by piece his transportation fell away and left him exposed. Now, he could feel the wind shear and the warmth from the autumn sun. Without forethought, he rose from his chair, and did not fall. He looked around, reveling in the fact that he was still aloft. His eyes viewed his surroundings with awe, but his body remained still, transfixed. Then with little thought or effort, he began to fly.

Throughout the sky, he soared. He became a dark blur against an even darker sky. He floated among the stars, taking care to twist or to turn whenever he came too near. The clouds were different though, those he flew through. He tumbled and looped as he lost himself in the fluffy white. This was freedom. From a pure white cloud, he emerged into a sky whose color personified the definition of blue. He cast his gaze back to the earth. The country grass seemed to rival the sky as it fought to capture the color with the same intensity. The scene was perfect. The scene was surreal.

Then, he was falling.

He plummeted from the coloring book sky and as he began his descent, the colors became duller and duller. A dusty, smoggy wind whirled around him as he continued towards the pavement below. The buildings around him marked his progress. There went another five stories, he was now fifty feet closer to the ground. But he wasn't afraid. Somehow, it seemed natural. Somehow, exhilarating. This was the definition of fun. This was life.

In the monotone world, the sun weaved throughout the buildings, casting shadows towards the street. The stars gave more light than the street lights, illuminating the sky. He was getting closer to the ground. The city sounds became audible. Car horns marked the impatience of drivers. Low engine sounds mixed with the soft murmur of conversation. The street below was now visible. The black and white color provided a contrast and harmony between itself. Gray smoke billowed from exhaust pipes, clouding the area.

Gradually, the darkness faded. The stars expanded to cover the sky in white light. Below him, black turned to gray white in turned continued to get lighter. It did so until it had betrayed its name and faded to white. Then, the city started to disappear as if a blanket of fog had swallowed it, and left only sound behind. The conversation grew louder, and the street sound fell away. Idly, he wondered how close he was to the pavement.

He emerged from the fog just as he had done previously with the clouds. He was just in time to see buildings fade away and cars sink into a white street. With an abrupt flash, color came back into the world. The street was no longer his destination. Rather, it was pale yellow and dingy brown dirt that awaited his arrival. He turned his neck to look above him, light was hidden by bright primary colored cloth. When he looked back down, he started falling faster. The voices grew louder, but as indistinguishable as ever. He fell faster with each second. The ground came clearly into focus, packed straw mixed with soft brown dirt stood waiting him. This wasn't fun any more.

He was almost there now.

He could almost distinguish the words.

He could almost smell the straw.

It wouldn't be long now, another few seconds at the most. His body tensed, anticipating impact. The ground became clearer and clearer. For an instant, the voices focused and he could hear the words. Unfortunately, it no longer mattered. In the next moment it would all be over. He closed his eyes.

Spitefully, his mind continued to picture the scene.

He fell through the ground as if it were no more solid than a cloud. However, the straw still managed to scrape at his body. This couldn't be right. He opened his eyes to total darkness. His descent stopped as he did so. The world was absolute black. This couldn't be real.

In the distance, he could hear the voices again. He took a step towards them. Or was he going away from them? He was walking and floating but he didn't seem to be moving. The words were distorted as they carried on the breeze. The wind wrapped around him, enveloping him with sound. It near consumed him, yet all the while refused to yield knowledge. Crazily, he wondered if there had always been a breeze.

The sounds grew louder, making no more sense than before. Harsh white light dominated the area. It rose in intensity as the sounds grew louder. He threw up a hand to shield his eyes, to no avail. He twisted his head and shut his eyes. The heat continued to assault his body, making its presence known. Finally, the sensation of warmth fell away.

He opened his eyes.

The world was as white as it was dark before. The sounds almost made sense. He closed his eyes again. When next he opened them, the entire scene had changed.

Rain poured steadily from the clouds soaking the Bludhaven streets below. Night had descended upon Bludhaven, and dusk was always heralded by its citizens with the sounds of bullets and breaking glass.

Nightwing leapt off the thirtieth floor of the corporate building. Bullets sprayed over the roof, then followed him when he had leapt into nothing but air. For scant seconds, he appeared to fly. His arms were outstretched, and he wore a jovial expression on his face. Then, gravity destroyed the illusion, forcing him downwards, and he began his inevitable fall back to earth.

With each passing second, he grew further away from his pursuers. Nightwing didn't recognize this group. None of the men on the rooftops had been seen before in the either in the employ of Roland Desmond, better known as Blockbuster or Eddie Minh another prominent underground figure of the city. This new group could mean one of many things. Either, the criminals in Bludhaven were starting to contract out, or there was new blood moving in.

There was no time to work on the details now. Nightwing continued to fall. There went two more floors, bring him twenty feet closer to the pavement. He turned in midair and shot a de-cel line from his gauntlet. The line whipped around a weathered iron fence that outlined the roof of an apartment complex. He wrapped both hands around the slender cable and pulled causing his trajectory to alter and slow.