"Oh, man…"

Commissioner Jim Gordon's tiny sedan chugged through the streets of Gotham City. Cars honked, cabbies cursed, and pedestrians made rude gestures at the drivers cutting them off. A normal, cheery day in the city. It wasn't quite so normal for Barbara Gordon, who was sitting in the passenger's seat. It was only by mercy and a prior obligation that she'd managed to skip church on this Sunday morning. Her obligation wasn't much better, though. The salon.

She'd flipped down the mirror above her seat, and was examining her hair sullenly. The long, red locks she'd been growing since the 5th grade were gone, brutally hacked away. Only a pixie cut's worth of hair remained, and she kept poking the tips of it, gingerly, to confirm that it was truly that short. She was already regretting the loss, but it had been a requirement. She knew it. With all that hair, she could barely fit her head into the Batsuit's cowl. It wasn't like she could just cut a hole in the back to let it hang out. Not that she hadn't tried suggesting that, but Bruce and Alfred vetoed it nigh-instantaneously. Not only would it be a major clue at who was under the mask, it was a pretty blatant safety hazard. She'd half-heartedly agreed.

Her father glanced over for a moment, catching her expression. "What's up, kid? I thought you wanted a haircut; you look like you just lost your best friend."

Barbara shrugged. She couldn't exactly tell her dad why she'd needed the cut. Something vague would do. "I just… thought it was a time for a change. I hadn't really processed how drastic it would be, is all. I'll get used to it."

Jim's lined face wrinkled with that tired smile he always used. "All right, hun; just try and be over it before it's back to the old length, okay?"

Barbara put a hand to her lips, covering up a giggle. "All right, dad. Are you going to work after this?"

He shook his head, and Barbara saw the most relieved expression she could imagine on his face. "Nah, not today. I've got John and Victor running the patrols, and we've just got a skeleton crew at the station. Haven't had a crisis since… well, Halloween."

The mood soured, and silence overtook them as Jim kept driving. He was gripping the wheel harder than he needed to. She'd filled in her father what he needed to know of that Halloween night. Of the friend she and Bruce had made, and the family that friend had lost. Barbara attempted a diplomatic means of getting the conversation back on track.

"…Maybe the crooks are shoring up for winter?"

That one caught her father off guard, and he lurched forward in a tremendous laugh. She swore she felt the car shake as he slapped his forehead with a hand. "Oh, god, if only that were true! Forget the scarf I asked for—criminals that hibernate? Make that my Christmas present."

He shook his head, smiling as bright as could be. Barbara smiled along with him, happy that the jovial nature had returned to their little trip. He started talking, with an unusually chipper demeanor for what he was telling her. He pretty clearly didn't take it too seriously.

"No, but, Bat or no Bat, I think we're in for the most eventful winter we've had in a long while. They say there's two Bats now, you know?"

"Really?" Barbara asked, feigning interest in this supposedly novel topic.

"Really really." Jim assured her. "Batman and Batgirl, everybody's saying. Eyewitness accounts of what they think is Batman beating up some crooks in some alley, and all of the sudden they notice it's a woman. But that's not all. We're getting calls now about some weirdo skulking around the back alleys, cracking heads and asking about people with red eyes. Supposedly dresses in a blue coat, and has no face."

"No face?"

"Not an iota of one." Jim insisted, chuckling to himself as the words escaped his lips. "You know, this city really astounds me sometimes, kid. Oh-oh, that's not even the weirdest one!" He turned to her with a childlike sort of glee as he giggled out the last one. "We're getting—ha—getting 911 calls about aliens now."

"What?" his daughter asked in shock. Before she knew it she was laughing along with him.

"I know, I know!" he told her. "It's crazy, but I swear it's true! Little old ladies calling at 3 o'clock, yammering about giant green men in big blue capes, walking through walls and throwing thugs through semi-trucks, things like that. I don't even know where they come up with some of these."

Barbara shook her head as her sides trembled. "Man, when did Gotham become Freaksville, USA?"

Jim leaned back into his seat, adjusting the belt as he pondered that a little past its intent. His lips curled into a gentle grin. "It's always been Freaksville, kid. I think we're just starting to develop a sense of humor about it."

The car turned, and began moving up towards Wayne Manor, their destination. Barbara glanced through the rear view mirror, at the back seat. James Gordon Jr. was fast asleep, drool slipping down from the corner of his mouth. She smirked. Little slob…

"You're sure Bruce said it was all right for you two to stay for the night?" Jim asked. "I don't want to intrude."

"Dad, it'll be fine, honest." Barbara promised. "You can ask him when we get there, or at that gala thing you're going to."

It was a happy coincidence for Barbara, but the justification for a sleepover at Wayne Manor came from her parents. A get-together of Gotham City's biggest movers and shakers was taking place at a hotel owned by Bruce's company. Wayne himself would be hosting the event, and he'd invited the Commissioner and his wife, specifically naming him the "Commander-in-Chief of Gotham's war on crime" in a televised speech. Drinks were to be had, little weenies on toothpick to be eaten, and schmoozing to be done with influential figures galore. One could only imagine the funding her father might scrounge up if he befriended the right people. So, of course they would go.

This event was planned to go on in the early morning of the next day. Being realistic, it'd probably last even longer than that. The Gordons weren't quite comfortable leaving their children home alone, so Barbara had suggested they stay at the Manor. There wasn't any particular reason not to.

And for Barbara, there were plenty of reasons to do it. Chiefly, plenty of time for training with Dick and Alfred. Maybe even a chance to go on patrol. She didn't even bother worrying about her brother; Alfred would handle him. This was going to be great.

The Gordon's car pulled up alongside the scenic road circling up to the doorstep of Wayne Manor. To his credit, Bruce was waiting with Alfred. On the front steps, Dick was reclining and burying himself into a game of some sort.

Barbara and Jim stepped out of the car, the former dragging her little brother out with her. Bruce stepped forward and shook hands with the policeman.

"It's great to see you again, Jim." Bruce said. "Are you and the missus ready for tonight?"

"Eh, as ready as I'll ever be." Jim croaked in a dry tone, unhappy with the upcoming event. "I've never been one for social events, and hanging out with people that make my yearly salary in the span of an hour is a little unnerving."

"You'll be fine!" Bruce exclaimed, a beaming grin spanning his face. "Just watch, we'll get you more funding than you'll know what to do with."

"Heh, so you say. Thanks again for taking the kids in for the night."

Bruce put his hands up and insisted, "It's no trouble. Barbara's a good friend, and Alfred will handle James just fine."

"It's true, sir." The butler cut in, face stoic as he casually waved to his master. "If I could handle this one growing up, I'm certain your boy will be nothing short of an angel."

Bruce shot a venomous gaze at his butler, who didn't seem fazed in the slightest. Pennyworth bent down on one knee to reach eye level with the yawning little boy, still stretching his arms out as he awoke from a well-enjoyed nap. James caught sight of him, and the child's eyes opened as wide as saucer plates.

"Are you Mister Wayne's butler?"

"Indeed I am." Alfred told him, and took his hand as he stood. "Come along, James. Why don't I show you the game room?"

"Game room?!" he bewilderedly asked. "What kinda games?"

Alfred chuckled at the boy's naivety. "Well, all of them, of course."

They disappeared through the front doors, a shrill squeal of sheer delight trickling out of James Jr.'s throat. His namesake shook his head, disbelieving of the little terror as he walked out of sight. "Poor Alfred. Doesn't know what he's in for."

He looked back at Barbara and put a hand on her cheek; the poor girl started blushing immediately. "Dad, come on! Don't get all weird and mushy in front of my friends…"

Jim looked at her, dead in the eye, and said, "Actually, I was going to tell you not to break anything expensive."

A sound like a hyena came from the porch. Dick fell flat on his back, rolling around as he cackled at the top of his lungs. Even Bruce had to snort back on a laugh. Barbara's eye was twitching. Jim guffawed and rustled his daughter's freshly cut hair with his hand.

"Aw, you're too easy, kid. Take care now, and have fun."

The Commissioner shook hands with Bruce one more time before waving and walking back to the car. The latter sidled up to Barbara as the little sedan drove off into the distance. The smile on his face caused her much pain.

"You're a lot like him, you know." She told him.

"That so?"

"Yeah. You both treat me like crap."

"It's how we show affection." Bruce claimed, walking back to the porch with his guest.

"What a coincidence." Barbara said, as they passed by Dick. She gave him a swift kick to the ribs, eliciting a hacking cough from the boy and cutting off his laughter. The girl smiled a devilish smile as he glared up at her.

"It's how I show affection, too."

Dick rolled over, moaning in pain before hopping back up and following the pair back inside. He looked over Barbara's hair, lips flat as he judged. "So you got it cut, then?"

"Yeah," the redhead replied. "if I had to spend one more night with two feet of hair wedged between my hair and solid ceramic, I was gonna bust somebody's skull."

"Maybe you should've kept it." Grayson suggested. "Good motivator."

"Yeah, until I run out of skulls and come after yours." She threatened. Dick retorted with a snide little laugh.

"Like you could lay a hand on me."

"I dunno, man…" Barbara mused, a finger on her chin. "Like you said, it'd be a great motivator."

"Elevator, going down."

Bruce's words caught the bickering pair's attention. He'd slid a painting out of the way and entered a combination into a little pad, throwing away some walls and leaving a little elevator visible. They stepped inside, the camouflage moving back as their transport sank down, into the deepest depths of the Wayne estate. Conversation slowly sprang back up as they waited in the dim, gray box.

"So, you adjusting to life here?" Barbara asked. Dick leaned against a wall, looking up at the not-so-hidden camera watching them on the ceiling.

"It's… weird." He admitted. "I remember, every Christmas my parents would scrounge up enough money to buy me a couple books, some new clothes, maybe a video game or two. Sometimes, I'd even skip a Christmas and get something bigger the next year. And now…"

He shrugged, kind of numb to the experience in a way. "Now I own more games than I know what to do with, and there's a library—a literal library—right inside the house I live in. And my closet's larger than the bedroom I had in my trailer."

He pursed his lips as he tried to find the right words to describe it all. "I guess I'm a little shell-shocked by it all? Going from dirt-poor to stupid rich is just, sorta…"

"Overwhelming?" Barbara asked. He shook his head in a swift, jerking way.

"Nah, that's too big. Too much. Not overwhelming. Maybe just… whelming? Is whelm a word? It should be."

Barbara felt a strange urge to laugh as she watched the boy's train of thought go off the rails. A little ding informed the trio that the elevator had stopped. As the door slid open, Bruce loudly announced "Floor 3-B, the Batcave! Batarangs, Batsuits, Batmobiles, and Lingerie!"

"Didn't I tell you to cut the humor?" Barbara asked in response to the poor excuse for a joke.

"Yes, you did."

"So… you're still doing it."

"Well," Bruce began as he led them out of the elevator. "I was going to listen to you, but then I remembered I'm rich and can do whatever I want."

The stare Barbara was staring Bruce's way could have dropped a lion dead where it stood.

"Bruce," Dick said in a complaining tone. He had stepped out and was looking at the side of the Cave they had entered. They were above the metal platforms, on a flat rocky outcropping complete with a second computer and a carved staircase leading up to yet ANOTHER entrance to the hideaway. "In the week I have been here, I have come down here multiple times a day. And every time I have done this, I have used a different entrance. Is making secret passageways how you get your kicks?"

Bruce shook his head, smiling as he admired the architecture of the place. "Nope. I didn't even make half of these, believe it or not. Most were already in place when I inherited the Manor. My mom used to tell me, 'There are enough hidden routes in the Manor to take you directly to any room, no matter what room you're in'."

He casually snatched a Batarang off the table attached to the computer, tossing it over his shoulder and striking a stalactite on the far side of the room. It bent like it was made of cardboard, and rock slid away to reveal a little tunnel. Barbara and Dick's jaws dropped in disbelief.

"In fact," the heir mentioned. "all the passages coming down here is what inspired me to use the Cave as my base of operations."

Dick sprinted over to the opened tunnel and crouched down to look inside. His expression was hard to make out at a distance, but it likely was somewhere between incredulous and dumbfounded. He shouted back, "Has it ever occurred to you that your ancestors were paranoid psychopaths?"

Bruce laughed, scratching the back of his head. "I guess!"

"He has a point, though." Said Barbara. "What the hell were your ancestors so afraid of, that they turned this place into a total maze?"

Bruce shrugged, and grabbed her by the shoulder, leading her out to the center of the clearing in the Cave. "Well, we could spend today pondering that, or we could get to training. Since Alfred's likely got his hands full with your brother, that leaves me in charge of that."

Bruce wave Dick over, who was already walking back. He and Barbara stood opposite from their instructor, who threw off his shirt. He was coated in no less than a dozen scars, some fresh. The significant wound just above his shoulder was still healing, and was covered in a heavy patch of gauze. That said, his musculature was nothing short of astounding. The kind of thing you'd expect from a bodybuilder, not a sixteen-year old boy.

Dick raised his hand and meekly asked, "Do we have to take our shirts off? Because I can't compare with that."

He looked Barbara's way, and his hand moved about an inch. "Maybe you could—"

A dark cloud bloomed in Barbara's eyes. "If you so much as try and take my shirt off, I will beat you to death with your own fists."

Dick threw his hands up to either side of his blanched white face in surrender, his expression profoundly terrified. The redhead smirked.

"Hey!" Bruce called. "You ladies gonna keep gossiping, or are you planning on paying attention?"

Bruce began to pace back and forth, lecturing them on today's lesson. "Barbara, you've been handling yourself well on your solo patrols. But Alfred and I agree you're too reliant on your shock gloves. And Dick, you'll need more than luck and agility when you start meeting big-time gangsters. So today, we'll begin developing your CQC skills."

Dick looked around. "But I don't see any equipment…" his eyes shrank to miniscule dots. "Oh god."

Bruce put his fists up. "We'll begin with light sparring to determine your abilities."

Barbara looked up at the staircase behind Bruce. There was the door. Heck, there were doors everywhere. She could just find one, and run. But she was kidding herself. This was happening, and nothing could stop the oncoming pain. A tap on her shoulder got Barbara's attention.

"Barb?" Dick asked. "If I don't make it… don't touch my stuff."

"Shut up and fight."

A battle cry rang from their lungs as the pair charged in unison, throwing blows at Bruce Wayne.