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Nightwing and Osiris: All That Glitters
by BKent
“I don’t know. I think it’s kind of gross. It’s a bug,” Dick said, eyeing the brilliantly shiny golden scarab enclosed in its freestanding glass case at the rooftop terrace of the Gotham Architectural Society. The scarab glowed under the museum lighting, refracting a dozen golden shards across the polished floor.
“That bug, as you call it,” Bruce murmured smoothly, swirling a champagne flute, “is worth seven hundred and fifty million dollars. It’s now the star attraction, ever since it was recovered after Selina stole it.”
Dick smirked, his voice low as tuxedoed guests and waiters bustled past. “Yeah, well, she’s always been good at purrrr-loining things.”
Bruce gave him one of those patented “behave” glances. “I doubt she’s here tonight. Selina knows we’re watching. And right now, I need to find Halbertsam.”
Dick tilted his head. “Who?”
“Ashley Halbertsam. You met him — the Golden Pharaoh.”
“Oh, the guy with the big magic stick?” Dick grinned. “Yeah, I remember.”
Bruce arched a warning brow. “Don’t antagonize him. He’s the foremost Egyptian archaeologist, not a kid with toys.”
“Okay, okay.” Dick rolled his eyes just as Bruce disappeared into the crowd.
Turning on his heel, Dick barely avoided colliding with a tall figure.
“Whoa — sorry!” he blurted, steadying himself.
“It’s okay!” came the familiar voice, light and warm. “Oh hey, Dick.”
Dick blinked. “Amon?” His eyes swept over the dark-haired young man in the perfectly tailored tux — tall, broad-shouldered, with gold cufflinks catching the light.
“Yeah — Amon Tomaz.” Amon smiled, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. “Or, you know… Osiris.”
Dick barked a laugh. “Oh, Siris — right.”
Amon leaned in slightly, lips curving. “Maybe don’t yell that across the room?”
“Fair.” Dick chuckled. “It’s been a minute. How’s life with the Black Adam crew?”
“Busy,” Amon grinned. “But mostly good. You know how it is.”
“Oh, I do. Black Adam’s kind of… intense, huh?”
“You’re telling me.”
“You wanna get out of here before the speech?” Amon offered. “There’s an observation deck on the roof.”
Dick raised a brow. “Not bad. Lead the way.”
On the rooftop deck
The warm Gotham night wrapped around them, the city’s skyscrapers flickering like a field of stars below.
“Told you,” Amon murmured, leaning on the railing.
Dick smirked. “I’ve been on a few rooftops in my time.”
Amon turned slightly, eyes catching the city light. “Maybe. But you haven’t seen them with me.”
The air between them pulled tight — the glint in Amon’s dark eyes, the knowing tilt of Dick’s grin.
For a moment, the city’s chaos fell away.
“So…” Amon said softly, fingers brushing the golden lapel pin at his chest, “you ever wondered how the lightning works?”
Dick’s grin widened. “Oh, I definitely wondered.”
But before either could push the moment further, the sharp crash of glass below jolted them.
Dick straightened. “Did you—?”
“Yeah.” Amon’s expression hardened.
Another shattering sound — then panicked voices. Smoke curled up through the gaps in the terrace floor.
Dick rolled his shoulders, adrenaline flickering. “Looks like the party’s starting early.”
Amon smiled faintly, his fingers brushing the pin again. “You ready?”
“Always.”
The transformation
They dashed for the edge of the terrace, crouching behind one of the gargoyle statues overlooking the ballroom windows.
Inside, chaos had erupted — masked mercenaries, rifles out, shouting commands. Bruce was nowhere in sight.
“Okay, now I get it,” Dick murmured. “Time for the lightning.”
Amon stepped back, shoulders straightening. His voice dropped low, and with a steady breath, he spoke the words:
“I am Black Adam!”
The rooftop erupted in golden light, crackling like a summer storm.
In a blink, the tux was gone — and standing in its place was Osiris in his black-and-gold uniform, the lightning emblem blazing at his chest, eyes alight with otherworldly power.
Dick gave a sharp whistle. “Damn.”
Osiris smirked. “Your turn.”
Dick spun, shedding his tux jacket mid-motion, his Nightwing suit sliding into place from beneath, seamless and familiar. The electric blue bird stretched across his chest, the escrima sticks sliding into his gloved hands.
“Let’s dance,” Nightwing grinned.
The fight
They dropped down through the skylight — Nightwing twisting midair, landing in a crouch with a graceful thud; Osiris touching down like a comet, the marble floor cracking under his boots.
The mercenaries froze.
Nightwing was already moving — a flick of his wrist, a flash grenade arcing through the air. BOOM — white light filled the room, and Nightwing darted forward, weaving between the blinded thugs, his sticks cracking sharply against ribs, jaws, and gun barrels.
Osiris moved like a thunderclap. A sweep of his arm, and the nearest trio of mercs went sailing across the ballroom, landing in a heap against the far wall.
Another merc swung a rifle — Osiris caught it mid-swing, crumpled it like foil, and casually flicked the man across the room with his free hand.
At the center of it all, the golden scarab gleamed in its case — still untouched.
“Go!” Nightwing shouted, knocking two more thugs aside. “I’ve got the goons!”
Osiris surged forward, vaulting over a shattered table, reaching the scarab case just as a final merc raised a detonator.
“Not tonight,” Osiris growled.
A single blast of golden lightning shot from his palm, disintegrating the detonator in a shower of sparks.
The aftermath
Minutes later, the ballroom was a battlefield of overturned tables, unconscious mercenaries, and shattered glass. Gotham PD swarmed in through the main doors, Commissioner Gordon barking orders.
Nightwing leaned against a pillar, chest heaving, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Gotta admit — you clean up nice.”
Osiris smirked, brushing dust from his shoulder. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Bruce appeared at their side, perfectly composed despite the chaos. “Good work.”
Dick shot him a grin. “Told you I’d behave.”
Osiris gave a short laugh. “Hey, if you ever want backup —”
“—I know who to call,” Dick finished, eyes twinkling. “But next time, you’re buying the drinks.”
Osiris chuckled, raising two fingers in a salute before turning toward the window, golden light crackling at his fingertips.
“See you, Nightwing.”
And with a streak of lightning, he was gone — a blaze across Gotham’s night sky.
Dick let out a long breath, glancing up at the stars.
“Yeah,” he murmured to himself, lips curving in a private smile. “A whole night of Egyptian treasures.”