Squatting behind a gargoyle facing the police station, Dick scanned the horizon for any suspicious movement. Bruce was on the far part of the city trying to get more intel on Penguin’s newest hideout so he was all alone in the mid city. Well, he was supposed to be patrolling alone but he’d been trained well enough to know when someone was following him. It hadn’t taken him long to sense the irregular movement and the telltale sound of someone following him.
Just out of his eyeline Dick say something move and tried to focus in on who or what it could be. In the months when he had first become Robin he was used to having his senses overreact to cats and mice that had somehow found their way on the roofs of buildings, but he felt like this time he was right to be on guard. He didn’t want to take any chances.
He stayed low enough to not be spotted and tried to edge himself closer to where he had seen the movement before he heard a crash from down below. There wasn’t anything he could spot from his position on the roof, definitely no large figure, and by the time Dick looked back up he heard someone land behind him.
Grabbing a hold of his escrima sticks and spinning around to face his opponent, Dick found a cheeky Robin pointing a heavily modified gun towards him. “Comms off Wing. I already turned mine off and we don’t want B to hear this.”
Dick let his sticks drop by his feet as he turned off the comm link in his ear and held his hands up in surrender. Even though he knew it was useless he warned Tim, “You don’t want to do this, Babybird. You’re going to regret it.” Dick knew he would do anything he could to make Tim regret doing this.
Tim scoffed and said, “You just don’t want to admit I was able to sneak up on you.”
Trying to think of a compromise as he edged himself backwards towards the end of the roof, Dick asked, “Is there anything I could do to make you change your mind?”
“Nope. This is how we get even.” Tim brought the gun up to his face and aligned it to the symbol on Dick’s chest before pulling the trigger and hoping something had landed on him. He hadn’t had any practice with guns yet, Batman didn’t like using them, and he was mostly going off of the experience he had gained in the past week.
Dick took Tim getting into position as his sign to try and make a break for it and tried to jump off towards the alley beneath him. Even as he leaped into the air he felt something come into contact with his hip. It disoriented him enough to ruin his landing, but as he looked up from his position in the dumpster he could see Tim looking down at him trying to see if he had hit his mark.
They both zeroed in on a streak of blue and green paint on Dick’s hip and Dick groaned while Tim cheered. He called down, “I’m going to win this, Nightwing. This puts me in the lead.”
Checking to make sure nothing was hurt in his less than stellar landing, Dick warned, “I wouldn’t be too sure, Rob. A lot can happen in the next week and I have more than enough time to make up some ground.”
Before he could stand up and get back to patrol, maybe regain some of his pride, Dick felt another paintball come into contact with his chestplate and threw up a glare to the teenager above him.
“Get on my level, Wing.”
“Stop it, Rob. You’re only going to make my revenge worse for you.” Even now Dick was imagining all the possible ways he could get back at Tim without inciting any of Bruce’s rage. There was a thin line with what he was allowed to do to torment his little brother, but he was willing to milk it for all it was worth.
Not at all wary of the threat, Tim shot again but missed by a few inches and instead shot the lid of the dumpster.
Hearing the muttered curse from above, Dick mocked and said, “You have great aim, Robin. I’m pretty impressed with how much you’re improving.”
“Hey, I’ve already landed three hits just in the past minute. That’s three more than you have done,” Tim said in his defense. “If I’m a bad marksman it’s because I have a bad teacher.”
Finally feeling well enough to stand up, Dick asked, “How about you drop down that gun and we’ll see just how much I can land on you?”
Raising an eyebrow Tim asked, “How about you come here and make me?”
Reaching for the grappling hook on his belt, Dick shot back, “I just might.”
Tim took that as his cue to turn back and disappeared from Dick’s eyeline for all of five seconds before he was on the roof trying to scout out Robin’s bright colors. Not for the first time he hated the fact that Tim had changed the cape from yellow to black, but he was able to make out enough of his breathing to slowly and quietly circle around his way onto the same roof as him. Tim was laying on the ground against the concrete lining along the roof trying to make himself as invisible as possible and he still hadn’t noticed that Dick was watching him from behind the air conditioning vent. Following his eyeline he could see that Tim expected him to sneak up on him from the left as it would have given him the most height. He might have come from that direction if he didn’t know Tim was expecting him to. The gun was sitting beside him on the ground, Tim probably didn’t want to have it hold him down if he needed a quick escape, and it gave Dick the perfect opportunity to make up some more ground in their competition.
Dick reached into the compartment on his hip and threw a smoke grenade as fast as he could before running into the smoke and grabbing a hold of the gun and looking to see where Tim was planning going.
To his surprise Tim didn’t immediately try for cover and instead ran as fast as he could away from Dick. He could tell he was running in the direction of Bruce and probably hoping that he would stop their little game and prevent Dick from catching up to Tim’s score. Not wanting to let that happen, Dick aimed the gun and landed his first shot on Tim’s foot and was able to disorient him enough to gain some more ground and tackle him down.
Once they were finished wrestling and Dick was secure in holding Tim down, he asked, “Well, what do you have to say now little brother? Anything smug to tell me?”
Trying to wiggle out of the hold, Tim gasped, “You need to lose weight, Wing. It feels like I have Cinderblock sitting on my chest.”
Dick hummed in consideration before grazing Tim’s shoulder with a paint ball and saying, “We’re tied now, Robin. You wanna see how much ground I can make up before we have to get home.”
“No,” Tim said honestly. “I’d rather you get off me.”
Considering where to land his next shot, Dick said, “Well too bad, Babybird. You asked me to do this.”
“I’ll get you back. You won’t be expecting it, but I will,” Tim said after another failed struggle.
“Only after I paint you with everything in this gun.”
“There’s probably like two pellets left.”
Patting a space on his hip, Dick asmirked and said, “It’s a good thing I forgot to take the spare out of my belt from our last run in.”