Chapter 3

Hours later, Nightwing finally made his way through the dark and rocky tunnels beneath Wayne Manor into the Batcave to find his old mentor sitting at his computer station, carefully dissecting the security footage from the encounter he had had with The Mad Hatter earlier that evening. Dick removed his mask and set it on one of the tables as he approached, watching the monitors almost as carefully as his former partner.

"Figured you'd be asleep by now." Dick remarked, not tearing his gaze from the computer screens. Bruce never turned to look at him, instead keeping his attention on the video of his earlier exploits.

"Tried. Didn't take. Where have you been?" The older man asked, pushing a few buttons to zoom in and enhance the image.

"Jewelry heist over near the Bowery. Nothing apocalyptic. Looks like you kept yourself busy."

"Tetch. Decided to pull a job at the University." Bruce narrowed his eyes as he singled out a portion of the security footage and looped it, trying to find that one clue that would make everything clear.

"What kind of job?" Dick asked, pulling up a chair next to the computer station.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Tetch took something from the science building, but was empty-handed when I apprehended him."

"Maybe he tossed it for a quicker getaway?" Dick suggested.

"Not likely. He went to the effort of subduing two police squads to get whatever he was after, I can't see him tossing it aside on my account."

"Maybe he stashed it somewhere in order to come back for it later?"

"Maybe. But He's locked up back in Arkham now. Not much chance for him to get to it. Unless…"

"Unless he stashed it for someone else to recover." Dick finished. "But who?"

"Who, indeed?" Bruce grumped as he opened a new window on the computer and ran through a list of known associates. As the list came up, Bruce printed two copies and handed one off to Dick. "Keep your eyes open. If you run across any of these characters over the next few nights, find out what they know."

"Sure thing." Dick assured him as he looked up and down the list.

"So, who is she?" Bruce asked, his attention firmly planted on the computer monitors.

"What? Who is who? What do you mean, her?"

Bruce turned and narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "Unless you've taken to wearing rose perfume and black cherry lipstick, there's a her. So, who is she?"

Dick cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the computer, avoiding Bruce's eagle-like eyes. He fought with himself over whether or not to tell Bruce, but couldn't bring himself to. "Just a girl from college. No one you'd know." He lied through his teeth, waiting for Bruce to look back to the computer screens and take those heavy eyes off of him.

"Hm." Bruce finally turned away from Dick and back to business at hand, but the younger man couldn't help but feel guilty over lying to the man who had been like a father to him all these years. He sincerely hoped he was doing the right thing.

After knocking on the door for what seemed like forever, Harley finally heard footsteps on the other side. The lock clicked and the door opened, revealing Harley's oldest and dearest friend, looking tired and irritated.

Wearing nothing but a bright green bra and matching thong, Pamela Isley, also known as Poison Ivy rubbed her green eyes and ran a hand through her tousled red hair. She had been out of Arkham for over a year now and, according to word on the street, actually had a legitimate job now.

"Do you have any idea what time it is, Harley?" She growled.

"Hiya, Red!" Harley squealed, throwing her arms around Ivy in a big hug. Ivy didn't return the gesture, but pried Harley off of her and narrowed her eyes at her.

"What are you doing here, Harley?

"I need a place to crash for a couple of nights. You don't mind, right?"

Ivy rolled her eyes and gestured for Harley to come in. A smile lit up her face and she moved in for another hug, but Ivy put up a hand to stop her. "Not until I've had my coffee, Harley. Then you can act like a spaz."

"Thanks, Ivy. It's nice to know I've got somebody I can depend on in this city."

"Think nothing of it. After all, it's not the first time you've hijacked my apartment. So, what's going on? Joker kick you out again?"

"Joker? No way, Red. He's still locked up at the nuthouse. This time it's different. I'm going straight and I need a place away from Mr. J's goons where I can start over."

Ivy nearly choked on her coffee. Harley? Going straight? Something major must have gone down for her to have made a decision this big.

"Going straight, huh? Well, I'm glad you finally decided to get away from the clown, at least. Coffee?" Ivy took an empty cup down from the cupboard as Harley nodded.

"I figured you were already doing well on your own and maybe you could help me find work so I can get my own place."

"I can probably help with that, but I've got to know what triggered all of this so suddenly? A month ago you were Joker's little lapdog, waiting for him to come home; and now you're looking to go straight? What changed?" Ivy stirred up the coffee and set it in front of Harley, watching as she poured enough sugar into it to kill a normal person.

"I met somebody, Red." Harley said, not fighting the smile that lit up her whole face.

"You met somebody?" Ivy asked, her eyes going wide with surprise. "Somebody as in a guy somebody?"

Harley nodded. "Yeah. He's a sweetheart, Red."

"I see. And does this sweetheart have a name?" Ivy trailed her finger around the rim of her coffee cup, legitimately curious as to who had Harley this entranced.

"You ever hear of the Flying Graysons?" Harley asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Graysons? Yeah, they were a pretty high-profile circus act back in their day. Then somebody killed them off during a performance. Well, all but the youngest of them. What was his name?"

"Richard." Harley said, the smile creeping back onto her face.

"That's it. He was the only survivor. Wait you're not saying that this guy you're seeing is Dick Grayson?" Ivy leaned forward, fully interested in the conversation.

"Yeah. It's funny, I'd never heard of the circus act before he told me about it. By the way, didn't he used to live with Bruce Wayne here a couple of years ago?" Harley asked, trying to piece together Dick's life.

Ivy nodded. "Wayne took him in when his parents were murdered, then I guess they had a falling out and Dick's been on his own ever since."

Harley took this in and finally understood. Dick's parents got murdered when he was a kid. That's why he had saddled up with the Bat. It made sense. Harley turned back to her coffee cup and took another sip. She had made a promise that she wouldn't tell anybody about Dick being Nightwing and she intended to keep it.

"So, how long have you guys been seeing each other?" Ivy prodded a smile creeping up on her face.

"A little over a month." Harley answered, emptying her cup.

"So…"

"So, what, Red?

"Have you guys, you know?"

"That's none of your business, Ivy!" Harley said firmly. Ivy, however kept a sly smile on her face and it didn't take long for one to reappear on Harley's face as well. "Like bunny rabbits, Red! Oh my God, he's amazing! And like I said, he's a sweetheart. He wants to keep me out of trouble so I don't wind up back in Arkham."

"Sounds like you finally found yourself a decent guy. Nice job, Harley. But I've got to ask, does he know? I mean, about you and Joker and your night life?"

"He knows everything, Ivy. And he doesn't care! That's the most amazing part about it. All he wants is to see me happy. That's more than I can say for Mr. J."

"Good for you, Harley. It's about time you caught a break."

The cheery atmosphere in Ivy's plant-covered kitchen was interrupted when the phone rang. She stood up and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Is this Pam Isley?" A male voice on the other end asked.

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's Dick Grayson. I'm sorry to call so late, but is Harley there with you?"

Ivy smiled and glanced sideways at Harley. "Why yes, Mr. Grayson, she certainly is. Can I put her on for you?"

"Never mind that right now. Turn on your TV to channel 8."

Ivy's smile vanished, but she did as she was told. The TV buzzed to life and revealed a live news crew in front of a burning building.

"Vicki Vale on location here in downtown Gotham where the Riverbend Apartment Complex has been set on fire, a product of an arsonist attack, according to Detective Harvey Bullock, who was the first officer on the scene. Initial eyewitness reports suggest that this heinous crime was carried out by none other than the Joker, who just hours ago perpetrated a daring escape from Arkham Asylum, injuring four security guards in the process. The newly appointed warden of Arkham Asylum, Jonathan Meeks, refused to comment. More on this story as the situation develops. I'm Vicki Vale for Channel 8 Action News."

"Oh no." Ivy said gravely.

"Oh, shit." Harley added.

"Keep Harley there with you. Don't answer the phone or the door for anyone. If he shows up, both of you get out of there and head somewhere safe. I'll call back when I can." Dick hung up the phone and headed out the door, praying that Joker didn't get to Harley before he could. Or worse, that Harley went looking for the Joker.

Across the city, deep within the industrial complex, a group of men sat around a large table in a warehouse, waiting. None of them said a word, fearful that he might hear. Then, as if by magic, he appeared at the head of the table, emerging from the shadows.

He was tall and thin, almost gaunt with chalk-white skin, a long nose and chin and bright green eyes that matched his tangled hair. His ruby red lips were pulled back into a wide, hideous, tooth-filled grin. A form-fitting purple, pinstriped suit hugged his skeletal frame as he approached the table.

"Good evening, boys. I'm glad you could all make it. Now, do we all understand what our jobs are tonight?" He watched each of them nod silently. "Excellent. Any questions?"

One of the men stood up. "What do we do if we run across the Bat?"

"You leave good old Batsy to me." The man said with a menacing laugh. "Now get to work!"

The men turned to leave, all aware that their lives were depending on the success of tonight's job.

"Oh, Jeffrey?" The man at the head of the table called. Before he could get out the door, the one called Jeffrey and a few other men turned just in time to see the gleam of a gun barrel. Jeffrey had time to choke out 'don't' before a metallic shaft with a 'BANG' flag pierced his chest. He slumped to the ground, stone cold dead.

"What did Jeff do, boss?" One of the other men inquired.

"Nothing. I've been locked up for the past eight months and I just wanted to kill something." The man replied. A wild laugh echoed through the warehouse as the rest of the men quickly exited the building.

"I'm waiting, Batman." The Joker giggled. "Come and get me, if you can."