They stood and sat there, opposite ends of an alleyway. The woman was broken, trapped in a wheelchair with the breaks missing on one side. The man was tall, muscular, and yet somehow...dead. "Dick."
"You really came..." He looked down for a moment before drawing his katana. "The Grandmaster said you would." He took a step towards her. "But I'm surprised, surely you know how long your chances of winning are."
"...I guess I do." There was a small smile on the woman's lips as she slowly, with a faint clicking sound every time her left wheel hit a loose nail, rolled over to the man. "But you should know me better. I don't care about the odds." She pulled off her domino mask and let down her grey-streaked red hair. "And I don't care what mask you wear."
Her hand reached out to touch his chest. "Dick Grayson...Talon...or Nightwing." Something in his eyes seemed to flicker, splintering an image in his mind. He backed away for a moment before he ran at her. "If you're in trouble, I--guh--!" Blood spilled from her chest, where his blade had stabbed right through her heart, but she wore a strangely calm expression. "I...will always...come save you..."
The man dropped to his knees, catching the love of his life in his arms. "Babs..."