It was late, already time to rest.
-For ordinary people, of course.
For Nightwing, Blüdhaven's vigilante, however, it was time for his "part-time job."
There was nothing in Dick's room that could possibly connect him to Nightwing. Under Miaomiao's gaze, he walked over to the large bookshelf by the wall, ran his fingertips along a row of books, and finally stopped at a thick old encyclopedia in the corner, pressing it gently inward.
An almost imperceptible mechanical sliding sound came from behind the shelves. The entire bookcase slid silently half a foot to the side, revealing a narrow concealed door in the wall. It had no lock, relying entirely on biometric identification. Once it confirmed Dick's identity, the door opened automatically, revealing what lay beyond.
It was a world entirely different from the room Dick lived in.
Outside was an ordinary living space with warm yellow lighting, soft furnishings, and piles of art books and popular fiction, shabby but full of life. In here, matte alloy panels covered every surface, and cool-toned strip lights glowed softly along recessed grooves in the walls, illuminating the entire space.
A full set of Nightwing's equipment hung in neat tiers on the wall. His signature blue-and-black Battle Armor hung smoothly, while bulletproof lining, shock-absorbing shoulder guards, and reinforced knee pads were sorted and secured on clips. Grappling hooks, stun grenades, trackers, and first-aid kits were neatly arranged on his multifunction belt. Two telescoping carbon-fiber batons that could join together leaned diagonally against the center of a rack, their metal surfaces gleaming with a cold, subdued sheen.
A compact holographic screen was built into the workstation on one side, displaying live feeds from surveillance points across Blüdhaven and heat maps of the docks and Old Town. Case files and suspect profiles were stacked in electronic