So, I've heard so many conflicting reports over whether or not Batgirl is going to be in Young Justice. I, personally, would combust into happy tears if she showed up. Because I'm biased. Over at Twitter and Young Justice RPG, my Pixie has a Babs and he's happy as a clam. I like the dynamic between the two. Oh man. I just love it love it love it. Cross your fingers for Babsie.

This fic is my own interpretation of how these two would meet. I've got this tale panned out to be about four chapters long, with plenty of action. Hopefully these chapters will be short enough for me to easily update this fic, but long enough to keep my lovely audience entertained. Enjoy the ride, my readers.

Young Justice is owned by DC and CartoonNetwork.


New in Town

Robin's feet pattered quietly across the edge of the cement ledging in Cathedral Square. He ran parallel to the sidewalk, masked eyes tracking the movements of some seedy man on the street below. Even from this elevated height, the Boy Wonder could hear ragged panting from his target. Looked like the bearded man needed to stop stuffing his face full of Krispy Kremes before trying to outrun his slim opponent. Cackling, Robin launched himself off the hard edge of the rooftop, propelling him into space. Tucking into a flip, the thirteen year old plummeted down to street-level, wind streaking through his dark hair, firing a grapple cable in order to swoop straight into the man's back. The man ate pavement with a graceless flail and a pained grunt. Robin landed with his feet firmly planted along the man's spine, digging his heel between his shoulder blades, the dirty fabric of the windbreaker crinkling around his foot.

"So, you really thought you'd get away with stealing in my city," the Boy Wonder challenged. He was cocky. Gotham was technically Batman's city, but Robin took liberties with the low life. It intimidated them and it made them think twice about taking on the masked thirteen year old. The ebony-haired boy leaned down, snatching one of the man's wrists, wrenching it backward, unbuckling a set of handcuffs from his belt. Robin secured one hand. The man's other hand was tucked beneath his chest. The stolen purse had flown a few feet away, resting against a fire hydrant, strap looping on the sidewalk.

Robin pulled away some, blinking at the back of the man's head, surprised.

The man he had floored was laughing. It started as a low chuckle. A small whuffing that made the man's jacket vibrate with suppressed laughing. Robin got over his surprise and categorized the man as insane and moved on to the objective: securing the criminal for the authorities. Tugging at the man's pinned arm, the vigilante's brow furrowed. A prickle of uncertainty fluttered in Robin's chest. The criminal was so anxious to get away from the Boy Wonder, now... he was just laughing, not even attempting to get away. It didn't feel right.

Turning his head so he could leer at the dark-haired boy standing over him, the man bared his teeth in a wide grin. "No, one better. I'll get away with murder." Squirming, the man raised his chest from the ground, freeing him arm. Robin's lensed eyes widened, stark against his black mask, catching sight of a stamped curved glint of dark green metal.

Clenched in the criminal's upraised hand was a grenade.

The pin was gone.

Dropping the man, dropping the handcuffs, Robin spun. The man laughed. Robin ran, reaching out for the safety of an alley. Peels of laughter thundered in his ears.

"HAHAHA-"

Heat exploded behind him, followed by a dull roar in his ears. His feet lifted off the ground, and he pitched forward. His shoulder ended up colliding painfully with the cement. His vision doubled, blurred, pulsing with dim white lights. Groaning, Robin felt the intense heat pass over him, his ears filling with an overpowering ringing. The thirteen year old shied away, curling his spine, tucking his chin to his chest, trying to shield his head with his raised arms. The smell of burnt hair filled his nostrils, making him crinkle his nose, despite the severity of the situation.

Slowly, the heat cooled around him, leaving the smoldering aroma of charred flesh lingering through the air. Coughing, Robin hoisted himself up onto his elbows, rotating his shoulders stiffly. Black rings of soot lined the explosion site, wisps of translucent gray wafting upward and dissipating into the cold night air. In the center of the center, a mangled corpse lay sprawled, meat cooking and sizzling, face burned beyond recognition. Gingerly, he raised himself to his feet, round eyes unable to tear themselves away from the corpse. More than that, the young hero is fixated on the implications of the past two minutes.

It was like the man was wolf in sheep's clothing; a suicide bomber guised as a simple purse-snatcher. Harmless at first glance, but oh so dangerous once you realized the little details. The man's lack of resistance to capture. The laugh. The glint in his steely eyes. Aside from the obvious motive of murdering both himself and the Boy Wonder, Robin couldn't help but feel that there wasn't a deeper meaning behind this... disturbing encounter. It wasn't everyday that some random thief turned into a grenade-wielding safety hazard.

Clutching at his ribs, massaging it absently, Robin drew closer, covering his nose with his forearm. With careful steps, to avoid disturbing the crime scene, Batman's protegee began circling the crisped remains of the man. The man's face had been smelted beyond recognition. Already the body had stiffened in place, legs twisted outward in awkward angles, spine bent painfully into an acute angle of pain, hands melted together. The man must've been determined to clutch onto the bombastic grenade even through death.

A low pulsating tone alerted- one Robin felt hum through his skin rather than heard over the repetitive buzz in his ears- him to an incoming comm call. Knowing any vocal communication would be lost because of his poor hearing, Robin stepped away from the crime scene, bringing up his holographic wrist console. With a few well guided commands, he had programmed the miniature computer to transmit the words spoken through the comm to write themselves on the projected screen.

Robin, the signal was positively identified as Batman's.

YES?

...Why are you shouting?

Flushing, Robin realized without his hearing, he wasn't able to modulate his volume. Clearing his throat, he tried again, trying to gauge his volume without being able to hear himself. Sorry, things got a bit... explosive down here.

Understood. Good work, Batman replied. Since the Dark Knight hadn't commentated on his volume, Robin assumed he was speaking regularly- or something close to 'regularly'- again.

Crinkling his brows, Robin thought hard for a moment. While the Boy Wonder adored hearing a "good work" from Batman- or any compliment regarding his work, really- he wanted to know what was meant behind it. Like... was it a "Good work, you didn't get blown up" type deal or was it more of a... "Good work, but don't ever do it again" thing? Figuring that he had nothing to lose from asking his mentor precisely he meant- and truthfully thirsting for a blow by blow dissection of what he did right- the thirteen year old posed, Aster as usual, I suppose. What'd I do again?

There was a pause on the typing onscreen. Batman had taken a long pause. In his head, Robin could almost hear the Caped Crusader exhale slowly, like he did whenever his ward utilized one of his "New English" words: aster, turbing, whelming, concerting... etc etc. The thought split the Boy Wonder's mouth into a crooked smirk. While he waited for the Batman to address him again, he gave himself a pat on the back.

Stopping the bank robbery on 52nd Street. Those men were members of the "Cult of the Firefly." A new criminal organization headed by a man named Garfield Lynns. They're not a priority. Yet. Hopefully your efforts have disheartened them, even through text, Robin could imagine Batman's slow, measured tone. It was comforting. But that was the only thing comforting about this new kernel of information. That night, Robin had been no where near on Fifty-Second Street. He'd been sticking to Cathedral Square, on a tip from Lucius Fox. Batman probably hadn't bothered to check his ward's location that night, faithfully believing in Robin's capabilities. Any other day, Robin would've lifted his chin, proud to have earned his mentor's trust. But tonight, something was definitely disturbing.

Haha, yeah, I sure kicked their can, Robin replied, and he was sure (if he could hear properly, that is) that he sounded fake. Sending a notification to the police about the bomb site, the thirteen year old added hurriedly, but there's lots of clean up to do. Gotta go! And without waiting for any more possibly damning inquires the Batman might make, he ended the comm stream.

Swiveling around on the spot, he cast his gaze toward 52nd Street. Absently rubbing his deafened ear, his eyes narrowed. Preparing himself to take off through alleyways and up fire escapes, the boy muttered, "Alright mystery vigilante, what're you doing on my turf?"


Alright! So Robin's a little disconcerted over this new kid nudging in on his city. I'm mixing in my limited knowledge of The Batman-verse Firefly into future chapters and just completely bullcrapping the rest. Forgive me ahead of time for any discreprencies I make.

I like to think that after four years of mentoring Robin, Batman's gotten to a point where he doesn't always monitor where Robin is. Tonight was a lucky break so Bird Boy gets to investigate the mystery of Cult of the Firefly and their mystery assailant without the guidance of Batman.

Stay tuned, readers, we'll be meeting our [notso] mysterious crimefighter next chapter!

Reviews are so welcomed that I've made my review box into a luxury bed-n-breakfast. So please, drop off your reviews and I'll cherish them forever. Hurrr.