Friday was patrol night, so naturally, my phone was littered with messages from Steph that morning when I woke up on the sofa. I thought for sure I'd made it to the bed, but apparently not.

The cave transfer was running on schedule, on the last update, Barb had utterly gutted the mainframe and taken apart the Batcomputer, she'd made it clear that today she was not to be disturbed. Alfred was organising the covert hiring of construction equipment so that we could tear the place down.

All of that left me with time to spend training Steph.

"You better not be calling to cancel!" Steph snapped immediately as she answered the phone.

"Hi, Dick, how are you? Oh, I'm fine thank you, just calling to arrange your training..." I mocked.

"Oh. Sorry. What time do you want me?" She said, more cheerfully.

"Not sure I even want to now," I replied, "You've wounded me."

"Whatever, asshole."

"Charming as ever, what time do you finish class?" I asked.

"I'm done now; I was just gonna hit the library."

"Seriously?"

"HA. Of course not, I'm going home," Steph laughed.

"Come over now if you want, I need to update you on a few things," I explained.

"Will do. I'll be about twenty minutes. You better have cleaned that place up."

I looked around at the pizza boxes and other trash that I'd half-cleaned away before I got distracted by Bullock's call, "It's spotless."

"See you soon then," She said, hanging up.

I leapt up, I didn't really care about Steph's opinion of the apartment, but I knew she didn't believe I'd cleaned. Therefore, I frantically stacked the many pizza boxes, ran across the apartment and threw them into my bedroom — an elegant solution.

Next was sweeping, which I wasn't very good at the best of times. I simply decided to push everything into a corner for the time being.

By the time Steph arrived, the lounge and kitchen looked mildly presentable.

Ironically, her detective skills were her weakest asset, but the instant she arrived, she sauntered straight over to the bedroom door, swung it open and crossed her arms.

"How did that get there?" I asked, placing a hand on my chest and gasping theatrically.

"You're gross," She said, throwing her bag down on my bed.

"I'm very ashamed, and I apologise sincerely," I said insincerely.

"What did you want to tell me, anyway?" She asked, before leaping over the bag of the couch and landing on it with a thud. Something I'd told her repeatedly not to do, but I'd also told her I would tidy up so I decided not to say anything for now.

"Well..." I began and went on to explain everything that had happened in the cave. As I detailed the attack and aftermath, Steph didn't say a word, merely sitting and listening, nodding occasionally. She looked contemplative, a word I never thought would describe her, but the idea someone could get into the cave and assault me was as shocking to her as it was to the rest of us, which said a lot about the overall impression of the cave because she didn't know the half of the security measures in place.

The stunned silence lasted a while after I'd finished speaking, until she finally asked, "How does that even happen? I thought you said the Batcave was like, mega secure?"

"That's the scary part, whoever this guy was he knew how to get in and out without detection. I hate to think what would've happened if I hadn't been awake," I said.

"Sounds like you were pretty useless anyway," Steph commented, "No offence."

"He got the drop on me," I said, choosing to take the unnecessarily barbed comment in stride, "I got the feeling there was some kind of supernatural element at play. So watch your back out there, whoever this is, I think my identity and Bruce's may be compromised."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled, what makes you think it's supernatural? Don't tell me you're friends with Sam and Dean," She laughed.

"Yeah, we have afternoon tea all the time, with Elmo and Jimmy Kimmel," I said dryly.

"Seriously though..."

"I didn't see him really at all, but he shrouded me in this black fog, like some sort of... I don't know... ethereal cape he was wearing. All I know for sure is, it felt like he'd struck my head, but when I woke up I didn't have a scratch or a bruise on me."

Steph looked concerned, "Lean over."

I tipped my head forward, and she fingered through my hair and looked at my scalp.

"You're right, man, nothing there aside from dandruff, weird," She said stroking her chin, "You know, those Talon dudes we fought had some pretty deep connections, and they were all gross and monstery - maybe the owls are back in town."

"It did occur to me," I said with a nod, "I need to figure a way to get in front of Crane without a police escort. He knows who I am so if I walk in there with Bullock or someone and he decides to finger me as Dick Grayson, well, Bullock could see through the mask with a push in the right direction. Also, I don't have dandruff."

"Yeah it's really not the best disguise, man, I liked the one with the red hood better. And yeah, you do, it gets everywhere," She said, ruffling my hair as she hopped back over the couch and moved for the refrigerator.

I raised an eyebrow to her, thinking of all the trouble the Red Hood suit got me into, "I've come to the conclusion that red isn't my colour."

"I just think the suit you usually wear makes your butt look big," She explained jokingly as she grabbed a soda.

"Nice to know where your eyes go when you're following me."

"I was joking, you perv."

"Apparently, you're the perv," I said, turning around and moving to stand at the edge of the couch, "Help me move this, will you?"

"What for?" She said, putting the drink down and rounding on the other side of the couch, grabbing the arm.

"Making some floor space, I want to test you out with those escrima sticks you've been reading about."

"In here? Can't we just find a roof, I gotta tell you, the smell in here is a little off-putting," She said, looking towards the pizza boxes in the open bedroom doorway.

"Open a window," I said, heaving the sofa up and shuffling backwards to barricade the door with it, "We can't risk training outside in daylight."

"Fine, fine," She said, dropping the sofa harder than I'd have liked her to.

"We won't be doing anything crazy; just some coordination moves," I explained.

"I thought you wanted me to hone my detective skills," She questioned.

"I've had enough for one week, and I could do with a workout."

"You sure, wouldn't wanna tire you out before we go on patrol."

"About that..." I began.

"Don't you dare bail on me," She said viciously.

"Woah, chill, we're still going," I explained, hands in the air, "I just have to meet Bullock somewhere first, so you'll have to stay out of sight and wait for me."

"Why can't I meet him too?"

"Honestly? I think you'll piss each other off too much."

"Oh thanks," She huffed, folding her arms.

"It's not just you, he's a difficult guy at the best of times, don't want to be refereeing and trying to get info out of him at the same time."

"Whatever, let's get started, I'm all fired up."

I laughed and thought of something Bruce always said to me, "Rule number one, never fight angry."


Harvey Bullock stood with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his overcoat, the brim of his hat pulled down over his eyes. He looked about as conspicuously inconspicuous as a person could look standing on a street corner in the rain. I dropped down from the building above him and was met with a grunt as he led me into a nearby alley.

"Little far from Gotham Central aren't we?" I stated, looking at the grim surroundings of the abandoned buildings directly across from what used to be the Stromwell Building - which was demolished after the Scarecrow attacks damaged the foundations.

"Don't know who I can trust in that place," Bullock Grumbled, pulling a file out of his jacket but keeping it close to him to shield it from the rain, "The evidence room's got a logbook, so I got the name of the filthy rat and pulled his file."

"Wow, you never usually get me presents," I said, taking the file and tucking it under my arm out of the rain.

"Funny. His name, address, everything's in there," Bullock explained, "Keep that safe and don't tell nobody you got it from me."

"What do you want me to do? Tail him?"

"Tail him. Raid his house. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone to think we're on to him, he might not be working alone and I ain't got time for warrants. If he's a rat I want him flushed out so I can do my job, and I want that phone."

"Alright, I'm on it," I said, making to walk away.

"Word of advice," Bullock said, grabbing my arm, "Don't go throwing him off any rooftops, or I'll have to bring you in."

"Excuse me?" I replied, confused.

"One of yours, dropped a perp off a fire escape last night," He explained as if I already knew, "Fixer named Ronnie Bates, broke both his legs. Lucky the little punk is even still alive."

"What the hell? He conscious?"

"Yeah, told the officers he fell, but I know the work of a vigilante when I see it. I don't wanna hear about any more shit like that, you understand?" Bullock said, almost threateningly.

"Bullock, it wasn't us. Maybe he really fell?" I suggested.

"Bull-shit. He was found with eight burner phones; all smashed to pieces."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but the timing was undoubtedly suspicious after the attack in the cave, "I'll ask around. But I swear it wasn't us."

"Get a lid on it. We had enough trouble with rogue vigilantes last year. I'm still an officer down 'cause Roland Daggett exploded on the front of his frickin' car when one of you dropped him off his penthouse."

That one felt personal, "We've been through this before, and the toxicology backed me up, he was in that situation because of Jonathan Crane."

"Still, he wouldn't have been on that ledge if..."

I cut him off, he was making me want to punch him, "Speaking of Crane, is he still under maximum security at Arkham?"

"Hopefully til the day he dies, yeah, why?"

"I need to see him."

"HA! Good one. He's locked up tight, even I'd struggle to get a face to face. You not been watching the news? That Beaumont woman wants his head, there're protestors outside the asylum day and night on her side and his tearing chunks off one another."

"His side?"

"Yeah, sure, anti-death-penalty nutjobs. Beaumont wants Crane and Zsasz transferred to Blackgate and executed. Between us, she's already had a shit load of verdicts overturned."

"They're sending Asylum inmates to Blackgate?"

"A handful of 'em, yeah. They'll be in gen pop before the month is out, that woman doesn't have a clue what she's unleashing in that place. We send these creeps to Arkham for a reason, there'll be riots inside, mark my words."

"She has a point though, Crane being involved in their sentencing is fishy," I said.

"He had a cover to maintain, we don't know how long he was nutso, can you really tell me you think it's a good idea to put assholes like Mad Hatter and Victor Zsasz in an overcrowded prison?" He asked.

"Zsasz will be straight into solitary and you know it."

"Until all the gangbangers whose relatives he sliced band together and get to him. it ain't that hard these days, half the screws in the place are in someone's pocket."

"Then do something about it?"

"That ain't how the game works, there wouldn't be enough guards left to run the damned place."

"Then why do you care so much about this guy?" I said, waving the file around, "Bit of a double standard don't you think?"

"Listen here," Bullock growled, "If one of the boys in Blackgate or in some shithole precinct takes a handout from Maxxie Zeus to look the other way on some dealing going down in his club, we ain't stepping in. I hate that shit, but it's the way it is, we do not have enough cops on the street. But when innocent women are turning up dead on my riverbanks and there's a cop trying to help cover it up - there's no way in hell I'm letting that slide."

"If I see any of it, I won't be looking the other way," I insisted.

"Good luck to ya, kid," He said sarcastically, and then in a more serious tone added: "Don't lose that file, you won't be getting another. And I wanna know the second you find something."

I turned out of the alley, leaving Bullock standing in the rain. Clutching the file in hand, I fired a line up on to the nearest roof where Steph sat waiting, tapping on an imaginary watch to signify how late I was.

We swung together from roof to roof until I could find us shelter from the downpour.

"Whatcha got there?" Steph asked.

"It's a file, on the officer from Gotham Central who stole the phone," I explained, opening the file.

"So who is it?"

I didn't answer; it must have been a mistake. I turned the pages quickly, all of the documents pertained to the same officer.

"Dick?" Steph said, leaning closer.

I didn't answer again, and she grabbed the file.

"Woah, what the hell? This is your buddy right, Nate?"

"Yes. Yes, it is," I said, accepting the truth.

"What do we do?"

"We're going to pay him a visit."

"Tonight?"

"Tonight."


I didn't need the file to tell me where Nate lived; I'd been there on numerous occasions, we were friends after all. We'd drifted a little in the last six months - he, Emily and myself hadn't been out together for well over a month. Emily was pissed that I hadn't told Nate I'd dropped out of class. We'd had something of an unofficial falling out, neither of us picking up the phone to sort it out.

Steph and Emily had become friends though, so there was still a bridge I could cross if I wanted to.

It occurred to me that maybe if I'd not kept Nate at arm's length, I may have had more of a grasp on whether or not I thought he was capable of the kind of corruption Bullock was sure he'd committed. I couldn't see it, he was a good man in my eyes, but I'd changed a lot in such a short space of time, and maybe he had too. Now that I thought about it, he did seem a little off last time we spoke.

I was perched along on the corner of a nearby building, watching Nate's apartment building through my binoculars. He wasn't home. Steph appeared behind me and tapped me on the shoulder, I should have heard her coming, but worryingly I'd been off my guard. Again.

"I hid the file in my room," Steph said breathlessly.

"Good, I'll come and get it later."

"He back yet?"

"Nope, I tried calling Barb, figured she'd be at work so she could tell me if he was there, but she didn't answer."

"She did say not to disturb her," Steph reminded me.

"I thought she might want to know the situation."

"This guy's your friend, right?"

"Right?" I replied.

"Then can't you just take him for a beer or something? Maybe he's in trouble; he might just tell you if you get a few beers down him," She suggested.

"I'd rather not alert him if he thinks anyone's on to him, even me, he's less likely to make a mistake," I explained.

"Makes sense," She said, pulling out her phone and tapping at the screen.

"What are you doing?" I asked, frowning.

"Taking notes, in case you decide to try and test me later or something."

I shook my head, "You don't have to pass an exam; this isn't a qualification."

"Try telling that to Alfred, the stuff he put together for me is pretty heavy, it's like I'm studying another degree," She explained, "He wrote a ten-page document on the uses of a Batarang."

"He's just thorough."

"Yeah, or he's bored coz you never go and see him."

"I see him plenty. And I hope you're not taking all this stuff to class with you; I think you'll have a hard time explaining to your professor why you've got manuals on how to use a grappling hook in your book bag."

"Do I look stupid?" She said, "In fact, don't answer that, because I know you'll say yes or shrug or say something you think is really funny."

"You think I'm funny," I stated.

"You think you're funny, I laugh because I feel sorry for you," She insisted.

"Why did I get stuck with you? I never gave Bruce this much hassle."

"Not what I hear."

"Oh yeah, who's your source?"

"Barbara, Alfred, Roy, Leslie..."

"Alright, I get the point."

"Hey, look," Steph said, pointing to the main entrance, "That looks like him."

Nate stepped out of a cab and opened his umbrella, masking him and the woman he helped out of the car from view. The two of them dashed to the doorway to hide from the downpour. It looked like they were caught up in conversation.

"Looks like he was on a date," Steph said, "He got a girlfriend?"

"Not that I'm aware of, but we haven't spoken in a while I guess," I replied.

Tightly under the umbrella, the pair disappeared into the lobby. There seemed to be a very long time between their disappearance on the ground floor and the light going on in Nate's apartment on the fifteenth.

Because of the angle, I could only see them from the torso down, but the lights were low, and he helped his lady-friend take off her coat, so we were in no doubt that this was a date.

"This is getting a little weird," Steph said, "Can we just come back later?"

"No."

"What if they start doing it on the couch or something? They're clearly kissing from this angle."

"If she's a cop, we need to know," I snapped back.

"I know your girl left town and everything, but if this is how you get your rocks off now, I am not down..."

"Spoiler," I snarled, "If you want to go, just go, but if you're staying, stay quietly."

"Sheesh," She said under her breath, "Whatever, peeping Robin."

I pretended not to hear her so as not to flip my lid. She was right of course, it was getting weird, and I was probably a lot more uncomfortable than she was.

I quietly thought to myself that it couldn't get worse and learned a harsh lesson, that you don't have to speak out loud to jinx something completely. When Nate moved over to the window to close the curtains, his date shuffled on the sofa, and I finally saw her face and unmistakable red hair - it was Barbara.