AN: I've got a goal to finish the first section of this story by the end of 2011, so hopefully I'll make my goal and have it posted. I hope the plot line is interesting enough for you to come back for more. Oh, and it was brought to my attention that I didn't state which multi-verse this fic was situated in. I like to think of it as a cross between the Young Justice Earth (16) and the Batman Begins Earth (31). Thanks, read and review!

The Problem with Liars

When I was dutifully shipped off to Gotham Academy the next morning I was only a little more alive than a zombie. I was groggy, disoriented, and in pain from the hit to my forehead. The day started out pretty bad but it only got worse as it progressed. The bruise was hidden by my bangs but it still ached something awful. I couldn't focus in my morning classes. I was sleep-deprived and wounded, my body wanted time to heal but I didn't have time to be healthy. I had to be a student first.

It was unfortunate that my very first teacher of the day hated me, especially when I couldn't be up to par on my learning. Professor Caldwin was brutal today, asking me questions I had no hope of knowing then making fun of me in front of the entire class when I didn't get the answer correct. Creative Writing gave me a little bit of a break but I had to pretend I was writing the entire hour when really I was nodding off every five minutes. Algebra was a nightmare. I didn't have my homework done and I couldn't understand what the teacher was going on about AT ALL.

And then came Modern History. Ms. Dee stood at the door, greeting people with a handshake as they walked in. she gave me a tired smile, looking almost as exhausted as I felt. Looking at Dee it was easy to see that even being a teacher at a private school wasn't a glamorous job.

I took my seat, slumping over onto the desk with my head in my arms. A long sigh escaped me and it was as if my muscles were unwinding before I heard the chair next to me being pulled out from under the table. Dick sat, unzipping his bag as I sat up. I ran a hand through my hair without thinking, brushing my bangs from my forehead before they flopped back down.

"Woah, what happened there?" Dick asked, gesturing to my forehead. For a fleeting second panic gripped me, waking up my senses.

"I ran into a wall," I said smoothly, technically telling the truth.

"What the hell were you doing?" Dick probed, leaning against the table, his arm propping up his head.

"I don't see why it's your business," I said sourly.

"I was just curious, no need to get disgruntled." Dick shrugged. "Besides, why isn't anyone just gruntled?"

I gave Dick a strange look as he lazily grinned at me. "Gruntled?" I asked.

"What? It's a word, sort of."

"Sorry to break it to you, but gruntled so isn't a word."

"What about whelmed?"

"Ok, that's actually a word."

"Aster?"

"Aster?" I asked, completely bewildered.

"You know, like disaster. Aster would be when everything goes well."

I couldn't help but bark a laugh though I was exhausted. "I'm not quite sure it works like that."

"Sure it does. The English language is flexible." Dick argued.

"Not when you're butchering it," I giggled, stopping immediately as I realized how stereotypical preppy I was being. My exhaustion caught up with me as another sigh escaped my lips.

"You seem really tired," Dick observed, slowly going back to his haughty default.

"That's because I am," I replied humorlessly.

"Late night?"

"Early morning."

"Homework?"

"Recreational activities." I hid a smile from Dick as the tardy bell rang out, alerting the hallway stragglers to flee to their classes.

"Good morning class. Now I know it's only the second day of the semester, but I want to start a group project to get you all more acquainted with each other as well as the news of Gotham and the world," Dee stated, wasting no time of her captive audience. "I'm going to assign you a partner and you two will randomly pick a local piece of news from our fair Gotham City."

I snorted a little bit at that last part. What was fair about drug trading, human trafficking, thievery, and murder? Gotham was not a fair city, and even that is an understatement. I noticed Dick laughed a little under his breath as well, but possibly for different reasons than me.

"I'll assign you partners tomorrow, but today we'll just look at a few news possibilities." Dee looked satisfied with her rant, turning to go to her desk then typing away violently at her keyboard. For the rest of the class we looked at news articles about "fair" Gotham. Some were of Batman and Robin, but most described the boring political side of the city. Even the government of Gotham was screwed up. Judges and policemen were known to be easily bought off by drug dealers who just wanted an easy shipping to go over.

"Here's a new one as of today." Dee clicked on a short article that appeared on the projected screen. The title blared "WANTED MURDERER BROUGHT TO JUSTICE BY WINGED VIGILANTE." As the class read in silence I began to realize that the story was about me. It told of a wanted murderer and sex offender who was caught last night. Many people reported a strange winged birdlike creature so the police went to go check it out. At an alley down Benedicts Road they found their wanted murderer shouting angrily at a dark blotch in the sky. He claimed it was a girl in a strange suit that kicked the shit out of him and flew off into the night (don't you just love my paraphrasing skills?).

I'm a hero, I thought to myself. I caught a murderer last night. Pride bloomed inside of me; replacing any ounce of tired I might've still had in me.

"So are they with Bats?" someone asked. To a non-Gothamite the question would've seemed completely (for a lack of a better term) batty. But anyone living in the city knew the Dark Knight and his contributions to Gotham (no matter how much the police department argued they could handle the crime themselves).

"Batman hasn't given verification or declined association to the stranger last night. For now we'll have to assume they're completely solo," Dee answered, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal but secretly pleased someone was taking an interest in her class.

"The guy in the article said the person was just a girl, no mask. If she was with the Batman she'd probably work harder at trying to hide her identity, right?" Dick asked lazily. The rhetorical question posed a very good point though it seemed that Dick thought of it as common knowledge.

"Very good observation, Richard," Dee commented, practically beaming at him. I rolled my eyes. It amazed me how Dick seemed to be such a suck up in this class without ever trying. He was probably the same in all his other classes; he had the suck up type of attitude with an undertone of mischievous tendencies. It was like he was the valedictorian mixed up with the guy who plays the best senior pranks.

"Yes, Richard," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What a divine observation!"

"You can't poke fun when you won't release information. It's not fair at all," Dick protested. "Until you tell me what is up with that bruise you're not allowed to make fun of my name. If you're a person of your word, you'll agree to this."

I bit down a hysterical laugh. "Okay, I can agree to that. I guess I won't ever make fun of your name ever again."

Dick looked exasperated but also humored as if he found my sass amusing. "That's fair, but not fun. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I left it in the Narrows," I replied mostly to myself.

Dick seemed surprised. "What were you doing down there?"

"I live practically down the street from it. I'm almost always in the Narrows, Grayson," I yawned. Subconsciously I rubbed my bruise hoping I could make it go away. It only stung more.

"Try putting ice on it when you get home, it'll make the swelling go down," Dick advised quietly as Dee began to teach the class again. I thanked him silently with my eyes.

"Tonight the human rights group HAVEN is celebrating their 1 Billionth dollars reached for the prevention of starvation and homelessness in the United States. I'm sure there will be a story on that by tomorrow so we can all see what went on there." Dee continued on with the news but I couldn't pay attention.

A plan began to form in my mind. HAVEN was responsible for ruining my life, more specifically Jerome Fincher was. If I was serious about getting revenge then tonight would be the perfect opportunity to show him I'm actually an opponent. My symbol was going to make an appearance for the first time tonight. And for the first time, somebody was finally going to challenge Fincher.

The elite society of Gotham City chattered idly in the polite din of HAVEN's celebratory banquet. Glasses clinked as the rich congratulated Jerome Fincher on his success at being the director of the most successful and well known human activist group in the world, rising to the public's eye in just less than 3 years. The tall man accepted all the praise he was given, a small smirk secretly playing across his lips. Fincher couldn't think of any way this night could go anymore flawlessly, and that was exactly what he wanted. Taking another sip of his champagne, Fincher took in the crowd of people that were there for HAVEN's success, for his success.

From the tall rafters of the dark ballroom ceiling, I looked down at the festivities, scowling at these silly socialites. They didn't know what kind of a company they were supporting by coming to this dinner party. They didn't know what Fincher was all about, what lengths HAVEN would go through to get what they wanted. A knot tightened in my throat as a sick thought flashed through my head; HAVEN won't hesitate to murder, as long as HAVEN gets its way.

I shoved the thought away, pulling a grey ski mask that I'd picked up at a gas station on the way to the HAVEN banquet, over my face, preparing for my dramatic debut, my grand entrance. My feet balanced in my parent's tennis shoes on the thick rafter beam, I leaned forward letting my momentum take me all the over the edge until I was falling to the Earth. My arms snapped out perpendicular to my body and the built in wings of the owl suit followed their lead. Wind caught the wings like sails as a loud snapping sound echoed through the ballroom. Gasps went out as I swooped down over the guest's heads. I saw the astonished looks of people as they ducked even though I was at least 5 feet above them.

My flight came to an end as I lithely perched myself atop the banister of the ballroom's grand staircase. Inside a satisfaction bloomed as the landing was made successful. All of the hours I'd spent into the late night and early morning had actually paid off; the owl suit was beginning to feel like an extension of my body instead of clumsily attached wings.

I squatted down making sure my feet were perfectly balanced, otherwise I'd fall off and look like a total idiot. Shocked exclamations echoed throughout the crowd as everyone processed what was going on. I looked around, noting familiar faces from Gotham tabloids, such as the notoriously brilliant Bruce Wayne, an old family friend of my parents. I used to love it when Bruce had dinner over at our house; he was one of the few intelligent people my parents knew who didn't treat me like I was an insignificant toddler. Bruce Wayne had also acted like we personally were good friends. We had small inside jokes like the time I had accidentally spilled my dad's wine all over the carpet during a party when I was 7. Instead of ratting me out, Bruce quickly helped me pull a rug over the stain, refilling my dad's glass without a word. When I looked up at him incredulously he only winked saying "Sometimes you gotta pull the rug over their eyes."

I shook the distracting thought away, focusing on the task at hand: Threaten Fincher, hope he comes clean, parent's deaths = avenged-ish. With a small nod I prepared myself, allowing a deep breath and a tight blink of the eyes. The richest people of Gotham were awaiting my words.

"I'm sure you all think you're supporting an excellent cause, congratulating the world renowned Jerome Fincher and his achievements with HAVEN. All I've got to say is you people are idiots for being manipulated. Fincher is an evil man. Don't believe me? He's responsible for ruining my life two years back." My glare met Fincher's strange look. "Do you recall what you did, Jerome? I'm sure anyone with a sense of morals would own up to their actions. On second thought, I wouldn't be all that surprised if you played this off like it was nothing." My voice came out in a deep threatening growl on the last sentence.

"Making false accusations isn't very polite, especially when crashing someone else's party," Fincher said smoothly. His dead grey eyes flashed with a kind of annoyed amusement, like a predator would look at belligerent prey.

"Own up to what you did and all you'll have to deal with is punishment by law. Refusal of my demands? I'll make your life a living Hell, Fincher," I replied, my voice dark with foreboding. Whispers began to break the silence of the room.

"I have nothing to admit. Now I'm sure we can find a security guard to escort you out, Miss…" Fincher tried to trick me into telling my name as if he didn't already have an idea what it could be.

"Nice try, but I gotta fly. It is a school night." I gave a wicked grin behind the ski-mask, half-playful and half-outraged. I stood atop the banister, jumping out over the ground with my arms spread wide. The synthetic wings caught the air current from the warm air pumping into the building to keep the guests comfortable from the January weather. I was thankful for the warm air. Everybody knows heat rises so it only aided me in my return to the ceiling.

Once I was out of eyesight people clamored and discussed the occurrence. Some craned their heads up to look for me but I'd already found my place amongst the shadows of the rafters. In less than a minute I had navigated my way to the service tunnel, ultimately ending up on the roof. My tennis shoes slapped the tarmac and with a strong jump I was flying off the edge of the roof, my veins alive with adrenalin.

I couldn't help but let an excited whoop of joy burst from my throat. This suit made me alive! It heightened my senses, made my blood tingle, my heart race, my brain was so stimulated. Why didn't I ever get this owl suit out before? I could almost believe that just this flight of downtown Gotham could fill the void my parents had left me with.

"Let's have a little fun with this!" I shrieked, angling my wings to turn sharply. The suit followed my lead just as it was supposed to, but I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings. A building quickly came up on my left and it wasn't as if I could tuck my arm in to dodge it or else I would've lost too much altitude. So I hit the building, slamming into it with my left hand. A scream of pain came from my throat in a strangled sound that pierced the night but I kept flying, heading towards my first destination to paying Fincher back for the death of my parents: HAVEN Headquarters.

The HAVEN building was only around 30 stories tall, so it was relatively easy to land on even though my sharp turn had screwed up my flight pattern. The moment I'd gotten low enough to land, I tucked my arms in close, dropping like a stone. I rolled once, underestimating the height I was above the roof. The excess momentum landed me on my back with all of the air knocked out of me. For a few minutes all I could do was gasp in air.

But I got up, shaking and trembling but standing on my own two feet. Using the light from the lights on the roof, I checked out my left arm. The suit was unharmed but my wrist was bloody and bruised. Oh, well. All in a night's job for a justice seeker, I suppose. Without wasting another second I hurried to the rooftop entrance, getting the door unlocked with a hacking system my parents had taught me when I was 9. In minutes, I was fleeing down several flights of stairs, eager to use my time to its full potential.

The Modern History classroom was buzzing with chatter as I entered it the next day. Newspaper articles showed pictures of the girl in the owl suit perched dramatically atop the ballroom's staircase banister. The picture next to it betrayed the state of HAVEN's central office with toppled computer monitors and ripped and shredding papers strewn across the floor. The headline screamed "MASKED OWL GIRL TRASHES HAVEN HEADQUARTERS?" The story followed, telling how the owl girl warned Fincher that if he didn't agree to her demands, his life would be a "living Hell" (I'm just so flattered they actually quoted me). The next day everyone showed up at HAVEN HQ for work to find the place completely trashed, the security systems down. After viewing the feather strewn across the mess of the office, everyone jumped to one conclusion: the Owl Girl. It also went on, connecting Monday night's "owl sighting" to the much more public Tuesday night sighting.

I allowed myself a small grin seeing that I accomplished my subconscious goal of making my demands public. Thanks to the media, everyone in Gotham knew what I wanted and what I'd do to get it. My memory flashed back to the feathers found at the scene of the "crime" (or justice). Everyone assumed they were owl feathers because of my costume, but a trained eye could easily tell they were pigeon feathers found on the roof. My humor was short lived though as I couldn't help but scowl as I remembered Fincher playing dumb and pretending not to know what happened 2 years earlier. He knew better than me what happened when he set my house on fire, destroying my parent's lab and their lives. Only a person with a soul as black as the night could live with themselves after doing something so awful. But once again, it shouldn't surprise me Fincher could sleep at night.

"Ohmahgawd, could this Owlet chick be any more of a Batgirl wannabe, I mean, hello!" A preppy voice rang out; using the name the press had begun to call my masked self. The voice in question belonged to one of those snooty rich girls who only went to Gotham Academy because it was more expensive than public school.

I turned my back to the entire conversation, amazed at how dense people could be. It was easy to ignore most of the discussions about Owlet because they were all so far away from the truth. Somebody in my Creative Writing class thought Owlet was like Superman in Metropolis and she was going to shoot Fincher with her eye lasers or something. Someone else on my bus this morning guessed that Owlet was Fincher's long lost daughter, left to die alone, forgotten in the streets, similar to the Penguin's story, though it seemed to be lacking the well thought out-ness considering Owlet mentioned what Fincher did TWO YEARS ago, not when she was born. But maybe I'm just picky because I know the facts.

"Class, settle down now." Dee walked into the room looking frazzled and half asleep. A thermos of hot coffee and a newspaper were clutched in her hands as if they were the most important things in life. I suppose after a big night of news, to a Mod History teacher they were. "Please be quiet. I'm well aware you're all discussing the whole 'Owlet' business, but please stop talking. We'll read the entire story together as a class after the tardy bell rings."

Surprisingly, the teacher's request got the class to fall silent as they waited for the single fateful tone of the minute bell. Dick slid into class with only moments to spare, but still technically was not absent or tardy. He spared me smile as his blue eyes twinkled behind his jaggedly cut midnight black hair.

"Good morning," I commented tiredly, trying to focus more on the conversation than my sore muscles from the night before. "Hear about the news?"

"Who didn't? It's everywhere. Can't flip on a TV without seeing a story about Owlet. It's kind of annoying, really," Dick replied nonchalantly.

"No more annoying than Batman and Robin." I shrugged trying to be casual about the conversation. Once everyone was in their respective seats, Dee began teaching the class.

Social Studies was always an easy subject for me, awkwardly so in my predominantly math/science household. My parents always knew I wasn't like them and though it disheartened them they didn't force their careers on me. I was grateful that, able to be good at what naturally came to me. At my old school I was always best in my class. At Gotham Academy, however, I was most obviously beat out in Mod History for top spot by the one and only Dick Grayson. And after Dee had read out the assigned partners for the project, guess who my assigned partner just happened to be? That's right, the one and only, Dick Grayson.

Though we sat next to each other and had talked a bit for the past few days, I didn't know that much about Dick. But ever since I'd arrived at Gotham Academy I'd heard whispers of him being Bruce Wayne's ward after his parents had died, which I already knew. It was obvious that I could connect with him in the fact that we were both orphans, which we lightly touched on Monday, but he had Bruce Wayne, and I was alone.

With a grudgingly quiet sigh I turned my chair to face Dick. He suddenly looked impatient, foot tapping sporadically, chewing on his pen, running a hand through his hair to make it more mussed than his usually carefully messed up style which I tried and failed to ignore. Something was obviously bothering this guy.

"What's up?" I asked, genuinely interested, forcing myself to appear more awake than I actually was. "You're all jittery."

"Nothing," Dick said impatiently, waving me off.

"It's obviously something. I wouldn't lie to me, Dick. I'm excellent at reading people." When I pay attention to them, I thought to myself.

Dick sighed. "It's just that Owlet person. It's weird how she just popped out of nowhere, don't you think?"

I shrugged, trying to remain as opinionless as possible. "I don't see why everyone's making such a big deal about her. She's just another masked 'crusade'."

"Batman and Robin fight criminals, not human activist groups," Dick pointed out.

"I'm just saying that people shouldn't be so hard on her. I mean, she probably can't be more than 16. Imagine what drove her to go to lengths like that whole stunt at the banquet," I argued. A small voice in my head told me I was getting too involved, too caring, too suspicious. "She's probably going to disappear in a few weeks anyway. I mean, Robin's about the same age as Owlet but he's got Batman as a mentor and someone to roam around Gotham with. Seems to me like Owlet has nobody."

Dick nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing. "Ms. Ryder?" Dee called, suddenly standing next to me with a large top hat filled with white slips of paper. "Pick and issue for you and Mr. Grayson to research." She thrust the hat forward.

I bit my lip, sticking my hand into the hat, snatching a random slip of paper. With lithe fingers I opened it seeing 3 words I never would've thought I'd have to research: Batman and Robin. A silent thanks went out to my lucky stars the paper didn't say "Owlet." I gave a side glance at Dick who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Once everyone had gotten their Mod History topics Dee announced due to technical issues, the Gotham Academy library was closed and the Gotham Public Library was still being repaired after an arsonist took a torch to it. To research we'd have to go to one of our partner's houses. Dee made it very clear that the research was to be done together.

With a grim look I turned to Dick. "Well, my house was burned down a couple years back and the orphanage I live at doesn't have internet access. So, your house?"

"I suppose so," Dick said, looking less than enthusiastic, a strange change of mood settling over him. He didn't seem very happy to be working on a project with me which deflated the little sense of self-pride I'd managed to accumulate since my parent's murders. The expression also made me ponder how Dick would dissect the word "enthusiastic". Would he wonder what a thusiastic person would look like?

"Nice to be working with you, too," I said under my breath, dripping with sarcasm as the lunch bell rang, letting us out of class. I stood, quickly packing my school things, tucking the Batman and Robin paper into my pocket, walking from the classroom to the crowded hallway of Gotham Academy.

"Mona, wait." Dick caught up to me in seconds, grabbing my left wrist. Before I could fight it, I gasped out in pain while flinching. His grip disappeared in an instant as he circled to face me. "Are you ok?"

"Yea, I'm fine. I just ran into a door frame," I lied easily. Dick's gaze flickered to my badly bruised and cut wrist where I'd ran into a building as I was flying away from the HAVEN banquet.

I remembered how close to slamming into the building I was. I had come away lucky with a slightly bloody wrist instead of a broken one. Subconsciously I pulled the sleeve of my uniform shirt down over the bruise and cut.

"Some helluva door frame," Dick said. It was obvious he didn't believe me.

"It really was." My voice was flat. I pushed past him trying to get to lunch.

Dick pulled me by the shoulders to an empty classroom doorway, away from the hallway traffic. "Mona, you know that if the people at the orphanage are trying to hurt you, you have to tell someone. Just because they're not your legitimate guardian doesn't mean they're allowed to do this to you." Dick leaned in closer to whisper his words so I could hear them but no one else could. Cognizance bloomed inside of me as I saw Dick's close proximity. His breath tickled across my face, smelling like peppermint gum.

"I appreciate the chivalry, Richard, but I'm just a klutz. I'm the only person responsible for my injuries. You might have some sort of hero complex going on where you flock to save poor damsels in distress, but I'm telling you right now, I don't need or want your help with my personal life."

Dick's eyes flashed with an unknown danger when I uttered the last sentence but he only clenched his jaw, taking a step away from me. "Fine. If it's ok with you, we'll meet at the fountain in front of the North entrance after school to go to my house for the research."

I nodded briskly, mirroring Dick's stiff demeanor. "Fine. I'll see you then." And just like that we departed, going our separate ways.