Chapter Text
Bludhaven. A smog-ridden dystopia, a nightmare built out of metal and stone. The city’s former grandeur could somehow still be glimpsed through the thick layers of grime and decay. It was geographically close to Gotham, mimicking the worst parts of the city.
Naina Khan wasn’t particularly fond of Bludhaven. A city plagued with crime syndicates, vigilantes, and street crimes didn’t make being a medical examiner any easier.
She didn’t choose Bludhaven.
Unreasonably long work hours, frustrated co-workers, and examining dead bodies in the morgue police station were a part of her everyday life. The atmosphere of the city was also shitty, with dilapidated buildings, gutters running thick with grime, a persistent stench of decay in every crevice of the city, and of course, you can’t forget the never-ending sirens, corruption and crimes. Naina never wondered what the world needed or wanted from her— a sense of purpose or success that most people often search for—Naina wasn’t like that. It was cruel to be optimistic. A fulfilled life meant taking care of her younger brother without any adversities. That would be enough for her. A static, burdenless life.
“Are you going out tonight, doc, for Halloween?”
Naina looks over her shoulder to see her young lab assistant, Yeong, asking her the question. She grabs her scrubs off the metal hooks as he stands next to her in the sterile zone, crowning his head with a surgical cap.
“The only thing I’m doing tonight is going to bed.” She answers, entering the morgue through the automatic doors, the intense smell of formaldehyde instantly hitting her from underneath her mask.
“Our last body today is from a homicide case—multiple sharp force injuries. Detective Grayson said he was found in City-dock commercial.”
The corpse Naina needed to examine was already laid on the autopsy table, probably done by her lab assistant as he was preparing the station for internal examination. Naina begins to make a Y-shaped incision on the chest and Yeong continues to pester her with questions.
“What do you think of him, Doc?”
“Well, he definitely died due to exsanguination from various stab wounds—I think also a fractured rib–”
“No no,” He interjects. “Not our city-dock guy. I meant the new guy who just joined us. Detective Grayson.”
Naina pauses for a second before replying, “I don’t have an opinion of him. We haven’t met yet.”
“Detective Svoboda hates him. Something about him being bossy—you should’ve seen her face when they were put on patrol together!”
“Yeong,” She starts, impatient. “I really want to go home.”
“Ah–yes right,” He stammers. “I will shut up. Sorry.”
“Thank you.”
The autopsy seemed simple until Naina notices a green spot in the chest cavity. Upon further inspection, she discovers that it was a balloon packed with an unknown powder.
“He’s a drug mule. Probably swallowed it to smuggle at the dock.” Naina states, handing the balloon to Yeong. “Weigh this and do a toxicology report on the substance. I can close this up myself.”
Yeong nods, taking the specimen with a gloved hand and putting it in a tamper-proof container.
“The department may go out for drinks tonight at Hogan’s Alley,” Yeong says with a hopeful tone. “If you can, join us, yeah?”
“I will think about it,” Naina replies, and he knew that was another way of saying no, I would rather not.
Naina was a quiet person with a quiet life. She liked cancelled plans. She liked going home to her apartment, greeting her brother, and cooking him dinner. She liked messy beds and overworn pyjamas. She liked clocking out early without her co-workers seeing her all day and heading straight for the subway station. Peace was a privilege in this crazy city; she tries to preserve it every waking moment.
However, peace was a lie she had told herself because her main anchor to the city brings silent chaos to her life. Her life was never quiet; it was just a facade she likes to hide behind to convince herself that everything was normal.
But nothing’s normal when you live in Bludhaven.
Naina didn’t go straight to the subway station to head home.
She was requested by a text message to arrive at Red Dots, the notorious nightclub owned by the Lucchese crime family. A family that, despite its criminal reputation, she is unwillingly connected to.
The neon lights of the club casts a garish glow over the locals of the night, including the rats that slithered out of the shadows of the narrow alley. Naina hated coming here. The sour smell of beer, the blaring music, the red lights, the jubilation among the loud crowd as they unapologetically bumped into you; she hated it. Everything about this place reminded her of unpleasant memories she would prefer to keep buried. It was worse because of Halloween; from the flowing ghoul gowns to the pumpkin Cheshire smiles, it seemed to make everything much more obnoxious. Why had they called her out here?
In the crowded club, Naina’s eyes swept across the bar area, taking in the patrons who mingled under the dim lights. It was then that her gaze landed on a bartender who stood out from the rest. He had a calm and observant demeanour, eyes scanning the room with calculation. Naina couldn’t help but notice how he moved, always positioned in a way that allowed him to keep an eye on the door. The bartender, with neatly trimmed dark hair and lip piercing, suddenly fixes his intense gaze on her. With a scowl, he marches towards her and roughly grabs her wrist. They push through throngs of costumed people before finally stumbling into a private room and releasing her with a forceful push.
Once inside, she jerks her hand back and sneers at him, “You could try being a little gentle.”
His scowl doesn’t vanish.
Scoffing, Naina wheels around to greet the person she actually came here to see. “You wanted to see me, Lorenzo?”
Lorenzo was a stout man seated on a velvet couch, a cigar perched on his lips where the various swirls of grey smoke in the room were coming from. His arms were more ink than skin and despite his face of utter nonchalance, Naina was scared of him. Maybe once in her past, this man had shown some sort of affection towards Naina, or even cared for her, but she knew better than to believe that. The stark reality was that Lorenzo Luuchese was the bane of her existence.
“Alex, pour her some whiskey, don’t you?”
Lorenzo gestures for Naina to take a seat, and she obediently sits down on a green armchair. Alex hands her an icy glass of amber liquid, and she cradles it in her hand and waits for Lorenzo to start speaking.
“You heard of the new guy in the city, Naina?” He asks with a gruff voice. “The Batman dressed in blue and black.”
“Uh–yes, Nightwing—isn’t it?”
“Yeah—him. He’s been making things very difficult for us,” He explains, tapping the cold flakes of his cigar into a china ashtray. He wipes his mouth and continues, “Bludhaven survives on corruption. Everyone has a dirty mole planted inside the police—but I think you already know that.”
Naina couldn’t predict what he wanted from her. It wasn’t like she had betrayed him—her service to the Lucchese family was very neutral: nursing their injured men after a bloody event. She did her job at the BPD lawfully while hiding this secretive role that had her patching up criminals at night. Naina did notice how often she was being called on after Nightwing started making appearances in Bludhaven. Had Lorenzo called her down to discuss that?
“This Nightwing— he seems a bit too well-informed. He shows up every time. He’s a bloody police officer. Mark Desmond already has people working for him in your department—so I don’t have much choice when it comes to picking out moles… but I have you.”
Naina’s face blanks with confusion. She blinks at the big, bald, tattooed man before her and says, “Lorenzo, I’m just your doctor. I—I can’t be a spy for you….I’m not even an investigator, I do autopsies—”
“How’s Aryan? He’s starting high school, isn’t he?”
At the mention of her younger brother, the blood drains from Naina’s skin.
He places his weighty hand on her shoulder, squeezing it uncomfortably, and leans closer to her. “You don’t want to hurt him, do you?” He mutters, voice manipulatively honeyed.
“No” She replies instantly, squeezing the frosty glass in her hand.
“Good. We will talk soon. Take your whiskey with you; you don’t want to waste it.”
Alex, mirroring the same aggressive manhandling from before, grabs Naina by the elbow and escorts her outside the room before she can utter a sentence. She was frozen before the door that was slammed in her face, her anger growing by the second. What was she doing? Why was she at a nightclub and not spending her Thursday night like a normal person? Why wasn’t she at home, cooking Aryan his favourite boxed mac and cheese? What was she doing here?
In a swift motion, she impulsively smashes her whiskey glass on the ground in sheer anger. Fortunately, nobody notices it amidst the chaos. Naina wanted to pick up the glass shards right off the ground and shove them into Lorezeno’s eyes. She wanted to scream at everyone; she wanted to scream at the annoying people in Halloween costumes; she wanted to scream at the bartender, at the police officers of Bludhaven, at the prime minister, at Lorenzo, at that damn Nightwing, at the whole world.
As if her night wasn’t stressful enough, she’s suddenly pushed by someone’s firm back bumping into her and she crashes onto the ground. Naina’s naked legs meet the glass shards that she was previously fantasizing about hurting Lorenzo with, and groans in pain as shattered glass embeds into her skin, bleeding.
“Fuck,” She seethes. “Watch where you’re going asshole–”
“Shit—I’m so sorry!—” Naina watches with disbelief as a black-haired man crouches near her space, attempting to remove the glass pieces from her knees with his bare hands.
“I’m perfectly fine–just leave me–”
“Hey! You’re blocking the dance floor assholes!” An irritated bystander shouts at them.
Naina wasn’t in the mood to start a bar fight and she just wanted to go home. If she had to go home with whisky-smelling blood-stained legs, so be it. She notices how the dark-haired man doesn’t move from his position and she quirks an eyebrow at him, clearly irked.
“Could you move—”
“Let me carry you out of here,” He suddenly announces.
“What?” Naina replies, eyes widening.
Before she could protest, he snakes an arm around her waist and another one under her knees and effortlessly lifts her off the floor. With a hand splayed across his chest, she’s caught off guard by his muscular build. He smoothly pushes his way through the crowd compared to Naina’s prior struggles. She decides not to struggle against this stranger because frankly, he was making things a bit easier for her.
The clamor of Red Dots felt like a distant place as they exit through the front doors. He gently places Naina on a wooden bench near a lamppost. Now that they were out of the maroon haze of the nightclub, and under the new puddle of bright light, she could look at him a bit more clearly.
Her hindrance was a stranger with a pretty face. He had wonderful, soft jet-black hair, thoughtful mariner-blue eyes, and sculptured shoulders. He smelt nothing like the nauseating stench of the bar; instead, a swirl of loamy cologne surrounds him. Naina has to admit, he had the kind of face and body that would stop you in the middle of a busy street.
She has to awkwardly cough to break the silence between them, but mostly to break herself out of her trance.
“Thank you—I uh should go,”
“No,” He replies, putting his hands up in a gesture to make her sit back down. “Stay here. I will be back—trust me, don’t move—I will be right back!”
He starts jogging in a hurry, disappearing at the intersection of the street. Naina was at a loss for words. This was unbelievable. Who was this stranger and what did he want from her? Naina, despite her confusion, waits half-heartily for a few minutes on the bench but as soon as she realizes how ridiculous this all was she attempts to get up.
The sting from her cuts instantly makes her drop back down, grunting in pain. She examines her legs, slightly horrified at the red lines adorning her skin. Naina curses when she notices slightly larger glass pieces sticking. She was a mess.
The sound of muffled steps makes her look up, surprised to see the attractive man return with a plastic bag in hand. He doesn’t bother explaining as he kneels down on one knee in front of her, wrapping his hand around her ankle and pulling her leg towards him.
Naina flinches at his touch, but slightly relaxes when she sees him unscrewing a tub of antibiotic ointment, gently applying the treatment on her splinters with a q-tip. Naina watches his eyebrows furrow in concentration, earnestly cleaning her blood stains with antiseptic wipes and putting band-aids on her cuts.
Huh. He was…being kind. Either he wasn’t from here or he had a suspicious ulterior motive.
“Why are you helping me?” She questions him, finally causing him to meet her eyes through his wavy hair.
He lowers his head, breaking their eye contact, and chuckles to himself. “Well, I did this didn’t I?”
Naina wanted to argue she was partially at fault too, but she felt it was appropriate to stay quiet instead. The lamppost seemed to be their only form of a sentry on the blacktop street and under the velvet sky. Strangely, Naina was enjoying his touch. It was gentle and tender. His movements told her that he was used to cleaning wounds.
“Done.” He declares, examining her legs for any missed cuts.
Naina remains still, studying his face, expecting him to ask her for something in exchange. When her stare prolongs for too long, he tilts his head in confusion and scratches the nape of his neck.
She clears her throat, breaking the silence, “You didn’t have to do all this, you know?”
“I know.”
She blinks at his short response and laughs nervously. “I should get going, but…thanks for the… impromptu first aid,” She says, almost cringing at her awkward sentence.
Her attempt at a casual exit is met with a small, mischievous smile from him. His eyes linger on her for a moment, and then stands up from his crouching position, tucking the plastic bag with the first aid supplies under his arm.
“You’re welcome. Just take care of yourself,” he replies, his voice soft yet oddly reassuring. He extends a hand to help her stand up. Naina ignores her alarming skepticism and accepts his gesture, finding it surprisingly easy to get to her feet with his assistance.
As she stands there, her legs feeling a bit shaky from the pain and the encounter, she realizes that she still doesn’t know his name. The least she could do was find out who had shown her this unexpected kindness. “By the way, I never got your name,” she says, offering a half-smile.
He looks momentarily surprised as if he hadn’t expected her to ask. “Dick,” he says simply, and Naina raises her eyebrows.
“You go by that name willingly?”
“It’s short for Richard.” He chuckles. “You have a name, too, I assume?”
“Naina.”
“Well, Naina, it was a pleasure meeting you, despite the circumstances,”
“For both of our sakes, let’s hope we don’t meet each other again,” Naina exclaims, and his mouth splits into an amused grin.
“If we do meet again, will you buy me a drink? one that doesn’t include glass shards and first aid?” He asks, trying to bite back a chuckle.
“No.” She replies, giving a quick pat on his shoulder, and walks past him, departing from the street and sauntering towards the underground subway stairs.
She doesn’t dare look back.