Home was a warehouse Jason kept in the business district of the city, one that Dick had taken a liking to purely for the fact that its skylights offered a perfect little slice of sky. They used it sometimes for covert operations, for how generic it looked, with its indistinctive steel structure and unimportant stored things. Though the Gotham lights prevented him from seeing the stars, lounging on a hammock made from the grapples on his escrimas would remind him of the hole in the high top sometimes, the view he’d get during perfect summer nights at Haly’s.

However, lounging was not what Nightwing was doing when Red Hood kicked open the skylight (did they need to get the latch repaired now?) and dropped in with fake-bats on his shoulder. Dick was in the corner where Jason had some tech set up, tethering a screen off his phone where he was busy reviewing data from the cave. Who the hell was this guy, and how could he have gotten through Bruce’s systems without detection? There must be some footage he could dig up that could be used for an ID and they’d have some info before—

He casually looked up when Jason dropped down, snorting at the snark before pushing off the foldable table he had been leaned over. He crossed the space to meet Jason, grabbing a metal chair on the way.

“He’s just out cold, right? That tazing round is no joke,” enough voltage that it knocks the wind out of him even in the Nightwing suit. The chair scraped loudly in the vast space as he set it down in and pointed to it. He was already pulling out a section of Kevlar paracord. It might be an overkill, but he wasn’t going to risk it with the new suit.

“You better not have shocked him stupid. I still need to know how he managed to unlock the controls.”