"What do they want with us Sam?" I asked, clutching at my big brother's arm, staring in fright at the scientists beyond our bars.

Sam put a hand over mine and squeezed it. "Everything will be fine."

It wasn't.

Three. Thief

Night settled over the fringes of Gotham in a deep, smothering fog. It pervaded amongst the densely packed apartment blocks, settling over the roads like a blanket. A deep chill pinched the air, so cold it stole all the warmth from my bones. Even under two layers of expensive thermals, a thick leather jacket and fur-lined boots, I was frozen, sitting on Sasha's bike. Waiting for Sasha I kept checking my phone, studying notes I'd jotted down earlier. I turned the app off and my screen saver stared back at me, my heart aching.

Sam.

It was a picture I'd stolen from our files – one from when the Company had been watching us. I remembered the day they took the pictures, though I'd been too young to realise we were being watched. Sam knew, I think. We'd been out in the park, enjoying a gusting wind and a new kite Sam had bought for me – something to cheer me up since our foster family at the time weren't very nice. I was so happy – laughing hysterically, enraptured by the flying kite. It wasn't even a big or fancy kite, not like some that were out that day. But despite my ecstatic joy Sam had been edgy that day, looking around. Had he known we were being watched? It was almost a year later before we were grabbed.

When Sasha finally reappeared, sporting her signature black suit with a doll-like mask on, I prepared myself.

"Ready?" I asked, as she stopped before me.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she said, reaching out for me.

I took her hand and just like I was sucked into her, no more than energy coursing through her, a second soul, another mind. Staring through her eyes made me dizzy for a moment but as my thoughts cleared I stretched out, easing myself into the control chair. I rolled my fingers, then stretched out each arm, testing the connection.

Good to go, Sasha's voice floated in.

I touched my cheek, my fingers brushing the cool mask. In an instant I'd become Glitch – affectionately dubbed by the urchins of the street – and no one knew me. Even if they tore off the mask they'd see Sasha's face – and she had the uncanny ability to change that as she desired. It was the perfect act. Untraceable.

Climbing back on the bike I made myself comfortable, sitting more hunched due to Sasha's tall frame – yet, on that thought, I seemed to shrink until I was the same size as my own body.

Thanks, I said internally.

Sasha merely hummed in response, impatience tugging at my thoughts. Her impatience. For a moment I let myself separate her feelings and mind, cleave a divide between the two minds. As the difference snapped comfortably into two, I felt my own thoughts clear and Sasha's grow quiet. It didn't silence her but it stopped her constant stream of thought from clouding or confusing mine. That, and it made the separation easier when the time came.

I nudged the bike out and in a flash I was off, racing down the street for four blocks. At an intersection I slowed the bike and turned, appearing within a minute or so at an intersection jutting off the water. I kept the speed down and eventually parked in a shadowy alley, cloaked the two buildings that towered on either side. As I climbed off I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes to midnight. That gave me five minutes to make it to the waiting spot. Once the bike was locked up, then hidden beneath a dark, camouflaged blanket I fished out from beneath the seat, I made my way down the desolate street. My feet made no sound against the concrete, the shoes dampening any sound, and made me feel like a wraith – a ghost gliding forward, propelled by some sort of mystical energy.

I shook my head. Being inside of Sasha always seemed to draw out the superstitious side of me, as if lured from the dark depths of my minds where the demons lurked.

Silent, I made my way to the lab.

Dick had been at the Watchtower by a strike of fate. He'd initially agreed to come because Artemis had taken up a job as assistant trainer, helping Black Canary train the sidekicks, and wanted to talk him into it. Truthfully, he'd really only come because she asked – not because of why she asked, since he had no intention of agreeing. Too many memories. But the second he'd arrived he'd learned that she had cancelled, that there hadn't been time to send ahead and, since he'd come a couple hours early in the hopes of dismissing the job offer quickly and focus more on catching up, there hadn't been time to tell him. To give ample warning to not come. After that he made his way to the main mess, which was filled with a few new heroes, along with Hawkman and Hawkgirl. The two seemed to be in a deep conversation but Shiera glanced up and smiled at him, followed by a quick but kind smile from her husband.

He had a small pasta meal, sitting alone by the window, overlooking earth below. When he finished he was about to rise when a surprising face sat down opposite him. Conner.

"Hey – I didn't think you came here anymore," said Conner conversationally but Dick knew his old friend wrestled with Dick's decision to leave. He knew Conner understood but still felt annoyed Dick was adamant on not coming back, that he was content doing the hero gig mostly on his own – with only the occasional job with Batman.

"I came to catch up with Artemis but she cancelled last minute. It was too late and I was already here. I'll head back soon – anyway, how is everything with you and Megan?"

At the name of his girlfriend's name Conner's face softened, then grew a little pink and nervous. He smiled faintly. "We're doing good. I got into university that's not far from her, so it's making this apartment we're sharing okay. Even if J'onn does visit randomly."

"I bet it's more planned than you think," replied Dick with a smile.

Conner glared at the table. "I wouldn't put it past him." The glare melted away and he looked up, his eyes lit with interest. "So, anyone driving you crazy yet?"

Oddly, it was Meghan's face that popped into his face – smart, witty and sexy as a goddess. He must've been smiling, or had his face show something, because as he readied a reply Conner was smiling, like he already knew what Dick was going to say.

"Maybe. I bumped into this girl a couple times and convinced her to have a late dinner with me. She's-"

"Hot?"

"Gorgeous. Like she'll flaw you with one look. Anyway, I'm not counting on anything yet. I may never even see her again."

Conner stared. "You met a beautiful girl and didn't get her number? I'm not good with girls but aren't you supposed to do that?"

"You are but I took two attempts to get her name. I wasn't trying to push for her number. If I meet her again I'll take the hint."

"I have got to meet the girl that's got you flustered," Conner chuckled. "I wonder if she knows how much she's already got you wrapped around her finger."

Where are they? Sasha asked, her voice crisp and clear.

I sat on the closed dumpster, staring out at the lab. Waiting. Though I'd only sent the tip off recently I'd expected the League sooner – had they gone in a different way? Had they even come at all, thinking the tipoff no more than a joke, or worse, a trap? I thought back over every carefully chosen word, accompanied by selectively chosen files. Everything had been polished, impossible to see it for the fake that it was. Or had I overestimated my ability? Their response? My own expectations? Though I'd sent off several drones, as well as hacked all the cameras looking onto the lab – since all internal cameras, including those along the perimeter, were all on a closed circuit. Which meant I wasn't seeing anything inside until I got closer and could establish a link.

If they don't come we made need to make some more noise – something they can't ignore. A fire maybe. Any ideas?

I felt Sasha push across images of us sneaking in without the League as a distraction. In her mind we had a chance. A way in. A slim hope. She had fought me on the League idea the whole way.

My phone chimed. I drew it out and saw one of the cameras had detected something. Selecting it I watched a brief replay.

Bingo, I sent to Sasha. We are a go.

Can they do one thing right? Sasha muttered snarkily as I leapt off the dumpster and jogged to the fringe of the alley. There, I snapped my fingers – the street lights flickered for a second, then went black. Darkness rolled across a section of the street and with the low, swirling fog, hid me as I dashed across the road – a blur amongst the dark. Keeping low I trailed along the side of the fence to the water's edge. I looked out across the small wharf jutting off the lab, likely an export for the experiments – or whatever stuff Vandal Savage was in to. I counted six guards patrolling across the wharf.

They're not being very good distractions, observed Sasha.

Shut up.

I fished out a small cutter from my jacket, then knelt down, pressing the cutter against the wire. A hot laser burst through, slicing through the metal like butter – guiding it I carefully cut out a tiny hole, then wriggled through. I stood up, recalling the layout of the lab, then dashed across the narrow strip to a side entrance. The key access was no issue and I was in, darting down the passage, passing several small offices. Straight into an elevator. I pressed my palm against the panel, sifting through the floors until I found the one I was after, and selected it. The elevator jolted into movement, moving down with a soft hum.

Once the doors slid open I arrived at a long corridor, one flanked by dozens of doors on either side, spaced at regular three metre intervals. I ran my hand along the wall, feeling the computers within the lab slowly slip under my command. Cameras, fire walls, diagnostic systems, machines – all fell under my command. I brought up the security systems as I approached the door at the end, sifting through the footage until I saw what I needed to. A small group of heroes entangled with a cluster of guards in an enormous room, their figures too blurry and I had not enough interest to know who had arrived. What mattered was they were keeping eyes on them, the guards honed to that area – and as it was night all the scientists had slipped out, save for a dozen or so scattered throughout, whom were working slowly several floors below.

At the final door I wove through my own codes and the door made an audible click – as I pushed against it the door opened, revealing a server room.

Bingo. Sasha's approval rippled through my mind.

Okay we have five minutes to get all the data we can – then we're gone. I then closed my eyes and willed our bodies to split. Energy rose up through the middle of me, prying the two souls and bodies apart – a blade slicing us in two. With a final cut I slipped free and took shape beside Sasha's wobbling form. She caught herself on a server, resuming her normal shape, flashing me a reassuring nod before setting to work on the closest server. I set to work.

The data filtered in byte by byte, all heavily encrypted. Even with my abilities it would take time to break down the information, to take apart the firewalls and retrieve what was inside. If Benny's information was right Vandal Savage had ties to the Company, to the people who caught me. I wasn't sure how he was linked and there was every chance Benny was lying. It wasn't my choice – it hadn't been for years. There was a debt to pay.

"Got it – we're good to go," said Sasha, sliding the drive into her small back pack.

I nodded and strode back over, absorbing back into her as easy as before. With information, as well as backups stored on Sasha's drive, including all personnel files of scientists past and present, I took control and headed out. At least with the personnel list I had the ability to cross check those who worked with Sasha, as she'd long comprised a list of her ex-work colleagues. Once I had a list to work with then I could start asking the hard questions would – or Sasha would.

It was country music that played through the apartment as I sifted through the data the following morning, a cup of coffee in one hand, a pen in the other, as well as two more pens in my hair. Sasha had gone out that morning on a grocery ship, so I had time to sort through the data – I began with the footage, hours upon hours, sped up and filtered through several programs noting down faces and key words. That's when I saw the footage from last night.

I sat there, frozen, a chill wriggling up and down my spine until Sasha finally stumbled in. As the door slammed shut she dumped the bags onto the dining table and started to unpack.

"Sash…" I called out tentatively. "Can you come here?"

She glanced at me from the dining table, then nodded. Silently, I pushed the laptop to her as she knelt down and clicked play. Once the clip ended I met her gaze, which dawned with a dark revelation, an uneasiness – an argument was coming. I braced myself. In my mind I knew what she was going to say, how she felt. The horrible thing was I understood her feelings. I got it. But that didn't make the sick feeling twisting in my gut go away – it buried the knife deeper, more feelings compounded into a complicated, messy situation. One that was entirely my fault.

"You can't be thinking what I think you're thinking," murmured Sasha, sitting back on her haunches.

I nodded slowly. "I can't sit by. This is my fault. I owe them."

"You owe them nothing," hissed Sasha, standing up. "Their mistakes aren't our problem. They weren't before – they aren't now."

Anger flickered in my chest but it was stifled by a painful knowledge. Memories of Sasha's screaming grief burned to the surface. I wanted to yell at her, make her understand that we had a debt to repay – that a wrong had been done and we had to fix it. That something, at the very least, had to be done. But to make her understand I had to make her forget all the agony she'd gone through, force her to forget everything she'd lost.

"But if I turn my back and he dies do you think I can look my brother in the eye again? Lie to him? And if he ever found out you know he wouldn't be able to live with himself. He can't live if he knows blood has been spilled because of him, because of my search for him," I said heatedly, hating the words that tasted like poison in my mouth.

It was the truth and that was the sickest part of all.

Sasha knew it too – she knew Sam.

Dick felt sick. He'd agreed to one little mission – check out a tip off that Vandal Savage was working on some top secret program. Experiments. Meta humans. Nasty enough. However, it had been a vague enough tip that the League sent the younger teams – accompanied by himself and Cyborg. Then they got cornered and they escaped – barely. At a price.

He sat outside the League's meeting room – waiting. They were arguing. They needed someone to blame; then, a plan to rescue Cyborg. But he knew that Vandal Savage had moved Cyborg several hours ago to an unknown location. They were out of leads. Out of options. He'd combed through every inch of footage, everything he could get his hands on from the brief data he'd nabbed and the bugs he'd planted.

Glancing at his watch he sighed, frustrated. An hour. What were they talking about? His failure? Oh, he knew he'd screwed up. He should've pulled back earlier – he should have tried harder to get Cyborg back but two of his team were injured. One was losing a lot of blood. He had to get them out but he could've done something – anything.

Finally, the door cracked open and Black Canary swept out. She gestured for him to follow. Wordlessly, he did. Down the hall, out of earshot – though not from Superman if he strained his ear – Dick glanced at Black Canary, expectant. Nervous, too.

"The League doesn't blame you for what happened – there are some who are looking for someone to blame but it isn't you," she said quietly. "The tipoff – the mission. It was a set up. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

Black Canary glanced out the window, to the starry expanse beyond. "You were used as a distraction. A diversion to make Vandal Savage and his security look one way, whilst another snuck in."

"Who?"

"We can't be sure. There was evidence to say Savage's servers were hacked right around the time you got in, courtesy of the data you retrieved and what information Martian Manhunter just gleamed from a technician who studied the servers after the attack." Black Canary sighed, frustrated. "Someone played us, Nightwing. Someone very clever."