FAULT LINES ━━ titans [REWRITING]

FIVE.

Abigail's eyes rolled sarcastically, but she vanished into the shadows, the only sound of her being footsteps against metal beams. She followed the splatters of blood and hallowing screeches like a treasure map towards the source, towards Dick Grayson. The brunette spotted him through a dirt and dust splattered window. It was clean compared to the ones soaked in blood. He was greeting another man's bones with his knuckles as though years and years of anger and pain and grief were pouring out of him.

A scuffle drew her attention to a poor, misguided soul's attempt to sneak up on the vigilante, trembling hand trying to raise his gun. Abigail acted instinctively, racing forwards, grabbing a stray chair as she went and hurtling it through the glass. She launched herself through the window after it, entering the room in a shower of glass and metal. Turning her fall into a roll, she came up in a run and crashed into Dick Grayson, tackling him to the floor as two gunshots cracked the air. Just missing them.

The two hit the ground, hard.

Dick was beneath her, arms still wound around her waist and back from when he'd grabbed her as they'd fell. Their legs were tangled, breaths short and shallow. Abigail slowly lifted her head from where it had nestled into his chest, despite the suit of armour. She found her eyes a mere breath from his, faces inches apart, lips painfully close. This brought back memories. His gaze wandered from her eyes down to her lips, and she felt her heart in her throat. Despite herself, despite the anger and hurt she should've felt, a coy smile twisted onto her busted lips. 

"Still saving your ass, Grayson."

Then she untangled herself from him, jumping to her feet and turning to face the criminal, wasting no time as she grabbed his gun. Twisting it from his hand as she delivered a sharp elbow to the face, she dropped the fire arm and grabbed the man by his throat, throwing him to the ground.

Behind her, Dick Grayson had stood to his feet, and the Gotham hero was staring at the Star City vigilante. A small, nostalgic smile graced his lips. His face was warm and soft and watching her with a look she knew all too well. It dropped as soon as she saw it, his arm curving in before he hurtled one of his signature R blades at her. She supposed it wasn't a bad way to go. At least it was him.

But the weapon sailed straight past her.

Spinning, Abigail looked over her shoulder to see a scar-faced man drop a nasty looking blade, the sharp edge clattered against the floor as he clutched his wounded hand and let out a cry. A storm filled her features and she planted her foot into the joint of his knee, the sharp snap sounding his collapse to the floor in agony. She watched him hold his broken leg with his bleeding hand before she picked up a metal pipe that had been abandoned on the ground and smashed it against his face ruthlessly.

Abigail heard a crash and a grunt, turning to find a brave dealer had attached himself to Robin's back like a parasite, crowbar pulled tight against his neck. Her eyes flashed, widening, panicking. Shit. She caught his eye in time to throw the pole at him. The vigilante caught it with his free hand, whacking it against the man's hip with brute force before he drew back his elbow and hit home in the man's face with a sickening crack. The criminal tripped backwards, hands grabbing at his gushing nose, haemorrhaging red. Abigail was on him in a second.

Racing forwards, she ploughed into the crook knee first, crushing her kneecap into his kidneys, the two of them hitting the cross hatched wiring behind. Forearm pressed against his throat, she landed another blow to his stomach with her knee, took two steps back and wiped the blood on her cheek from his nose, then grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him back towards the direction she'd run from.