Nightwing x Villain! Reader- Masquerade (1)

“And who might you be?” You asked, frowning underneath your mask at the man standing in front of you, who had just rescued the Mayor that you’d been holding at gunpoint just seconds ago.
“Nightwing.” He replied, smirking at you and pulling the Mayor behind him so that he could take up a defensive stance.
“I thought Nightwing lived in Gotham,” You sniffed, taking a quick looked around to pinpoint any exits. “This is incredibly disappointing.”
“Gotham just isn’t as exciting any more. I assume you have a name that I can call you by when I hand you over to the police?”
“Masquerade.” You called, placing your gun back into its holster and sprinting towards the closest window.
He reacted quickly enough to stand in front of the window at the point where you were supposed to collide, but you swung yourself onto the floor below and slipped out of the window there instead. You heard his cry of surprise, and slipped into an alleyway and then through a door fast enough that when he finally got out of the building he couldn’t locate you.
“Need something, Masquerade?” Asked a gravelly voice nearby.
You swivelled on one foot, looking at the owner of the voice and instantly relaxing.
“Yes, actually. What do you know about Nightwing?” You asked stiffly, walking forwards and sitting at the table, motioning for him to sit as well.
He raised an eyebrow, so you rolled your eyes and took your gun out of its holster, dropped it onto the floor and kicked it closer to the door. He crossed his arms. You sighed irritably and took various other weapons from their hiding places, putting them in the same general area of the gun.
“Nightwing, huh?” He murmured, finally sitting down on the other side of the table. “Isn’t he one of those Gotham vigilantes?”
“Apparently not anymore, considering he just dismantled my scheme just before I could finish it.” You grumbled. “I had the mayor right there, at gunpoint, and suddenly… Poof! He was gone!”
“You didn’t lead him here… did ya?”
“Of course not.” You retorted. “Now, can you get me some information, or not?”
“It’ll cost ya.”
“Get me the information, and I’ll pay you handsomely.” You said sweetly. “Anything you find on him at any time from now until I’ve put a bullet into his skull will be paid for.”
“I’ll ask the network. Now you’d better get going, I have a client coming in 5 and he gets a little jumpy.” The man grinned. “Especially when he sees you leaving this place.”
“Thank you, Robert.” You stood up, picking up your weapons and putting them back into their rightful places. “And remember, anything you find comes to me, and me only.”
“That’s always the deal, darlin’.”
“Call me that again and you’ll be the one with a bullet in his skull.” You said, opening the door and moving out onto the street.
As you moved along one of your usual routes, keeping an eye out for any signs of Nightwing, you thought over the events of the night. It wasn’t your most successful night, but nobody really knew that your plans had been foiled, heck, no one even knew you had a plan for the night. Your reputation wouldn’t be marred by tonight, but you knew that you’d have to deal with Nightwing quickly to keep him from ruining your business with the rest of the Criminal World. You’d figure out his identity, and then kill him. Should be easy enough.

The next day, you awoke to your phone ringing, and answered with a grumble of annoyance.
“Hello?”
‘Heya <y/n>!’ Came the voice of your friend, Sally, on the other side. ‘Wow, you sound kinda like that Masquerade chick when you’re tired and grumpy, you know?’
“What’s up, Sally?” You got up out of bed, instantly changing the tone of your voice so she wouldn’t get suspicious and pressing your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you began rummaging through your closet.
‘You know how you wanted to get a room-mate who was never really in the flat, but was still there and wouldn’t notice your weird hours?’ She started, you gave a sound of agreement as you picked out a <f/c> singlet and some track pants. ‘Well, I met this guy at work, who’s looking to room with someone, and he just happens to have these really weird hours, so you probably won’t even notice that he’s there most of the time,’
“OK, you found me a room-mate, but I’m sensing that there’s something else to this.” You mumbled, moving to the bathroom and taking out a comb so you could brush through your hair.
‘I told him I’d take him to your apartment after I finish up with work today, but he said he was busy this afternoon, and so I told him then he could stop by at lunch tomorrow, how does that sound?’
“Sounds great, Sally.” You pulled your comb angrily through a particular knot, almost sighing with relief when you’d finally gotten it. “I’ll see you at lunch today, though, right?”
‘Yeah, yeah.’ She replied, as if she was already distracted from the phone call. ‘Oh! Gotta go, manager’s coming… Seeya!’
“Bye.” You hung up, sighing as you went to start the day.
You didn’t actually have a job. You figured that you wouldn’t need one if you were making your money by being a villain in the criminal world, which actually netted quite a bit. You were just the right degree of ruthless to make them fear you, but still respect you. That really helped with business. You kind of wished you didn’t have to lie to Sally about your ‘weird hours’ but you didn’t want to tell her that you had weird hours because you were Masquerade, and spent almost every night terrorising the town. That might hinder the delicate friendship you had with her.
So you generally spent your days going through accounts, trades or information on what the local mobs were up to. After lunch you began preparing yourself for the trade that would be going down tonight. You were meeting someone to get yourself some new material, which would be used in a future plan you had set up. But this man was a little untrustworthy, and almost caused your defeat a few months back, so you began memorising the floor plan of the building, and making plans for escape based on several different situations that could come about. Hopefully it would be enough.
It was nearing time for you to leave, so you opened up the hand-scanner next to your bed and used it to access the tunnel that would take you to your base. After you got there, you pulled on your outfit, placing the mask over your face and smiling softly as the new HUD began working its magic, now you could now see all sorts of useful information that you would need on the meet-up. If Nightwing came calling again tonight, you would be ready. As you read over it all again, you began strapping the various weapons you might need into different places, hiding most of them so that the dealer would not be suspicious, and pulled your cape over your shoulders. It was time to leave.

The deal hadn’t quite gone as planned, your dealer was incredibly jumpy, having almost been detected by Nightwing on his way here. When you made a sharp remark about not being followed, he began yelling, panicking, and shooting. At you. His cronies began shooting as well, which made you sigh irritably for the second time in 24 hours. You made quick work of the cronies, knocking them all out with a well-placed smoke-bomb, working your way through all of them as quickly and quietly as possible. When you finally made it to the boss, he was terrified.
“Please, I have the device!” He pleaded, panicking as the smoke cleared and your handiwork was revealed. “Y-You don’t even have to pay me for it! Just take it!”
He began fumbling in his pockets for the device, you had already made up your mind and pulled out your gun, placing it directly onto his forehead. He froze in complete and utter terror.
“Nobody shoots at me.” You hissed, pulling the trigger. You planted your foot onto his chest and kicked him, letting his lifeless body fall to the ground with a thud, then twirled your gun around and placed it back into its holster.
“That was a little harsh.” Commented the now-familiar voice of Nightwing.
“I’m afraid you’re a bit too late.” You called, crouching down and pulling the device you were meant to be sold from the dealer’s pocket and placing it into a belt-pouch for later. “The deal’s already over.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“I would love to stay and chat but I have a very busy schedule.” You said smoothly, using your HUD to determine the best exit.
He jumped down, taking out some sort of Escrima Sticks as he landed, and began attempting to hit you with them.
You dodged them quickly, grabbing one and managing to disarm him, making him stop for a second.
“You’ve got some neat toys here, Nightwing.” You twirled the stick in your fingers, smirking at the anger on his face. “Too bad I’m not your average criminal.”
“I won’t let you get away this time.”
“Sure you won’t.” You commented, throwing the stick back to him. “Catch.”
He caught it expertly, but dropped it when he heard a steady beeping and let out a shocked cry as it exploded just in front of him, mostly just causing a lot of smoke and noise. You didn’t want to kill him and ruin your fun just yet.
As he recovered from the sudden explosion, you slipped out of the door, taking a few winding turns into various alleyways and jumping a few walls. Then you found the door you needed, so you pressed the brick combination necessary to open the secret passage, and slipped through the opening in the bricks next to the door, running down the stairs. The door shut only seconds after you’d gone through, so when Nightwing got to that particular alley and saw no signs of you, he let out an annoyed groan. He wasn’t sure why you always seemed to get away so quickly, it was as if you knew where he was going to be before he did. Or perhaps you just knew the city better than he did.

You opened your door the next day, to smile at your friend Sally, and then look up at the potential room-mate she’d brought you. He had black hair, blue eyes, and was strikingly familiar. You couldn’t place it, so you brushed it off and determined that you must have kidnapped him or held him hostage at some point.
“Welcome to my humble abode.” You said brightly, holding out your hand to the newcomer. “I’m <y/n> <y/l/n>.”
“Thanks.” He responded, shaking your hand with a surprisingly firm grip. “Dick Grayson.”