"'Wing! 'Wing, guess what!"
Nightwing stared at the kid, utterly confused by the enthusiastic greeting. The best he usually got when he entered the Batcave was a brooding silence or maybe a dignified, "Good evening, Master Dick," if Alfred was around. He'd never had anyone bounce at him before.
"What's up?"
"Batman said we can keep the case. He's going after Catwoman tonight."
"Oh, great." He couldn't help rolling his eyes. Batman was always running off to chase Catwoman's tail without supervision. If he would just admit it, he might actually come off as a human being every once in a while. But nothing like that was ever going to happen.
"Do you think we'll get any action tonight?" Robin asked eagerly.
"Maybe. I don't know. You have to fill me in first," he reminded him.
"Oh, right. You don't read the logs."
"I have a life," Nightwing agreed. He took a seat on his old motorcycle (the name of which he shuddered to think of) and headed for the outside world, Robin following on his own bike.
(Put the word "bat" with any of their specialized gear, and it sounded great. Batmobile, Batcycle, Batcomputer--none of them laughable in any way. "Bird" was another story. The life of a sidekick could be so cruel.)
"Can you hear me?" Robin asked over the radio link in their helmets. Nightwing flashed him a thumbs up. "I followed the Riddler home last night. I mean, not home. But I followed them to the Scarecrow's gang. I put a tracker on their car. Batgirl's been keeping an eye on it all day." The Birdcycle zoomed ahead, leading the way to the not-so-secret lair.
"Good job," Nightwing said, and meant it.
--
The lair was in a nice, defensible position, with no overhanging rooftops from which Robin and Nightwing could watch. Still, they had a little stroke of luck. They'd left the curtains open and the lights on, and thus were clearly visible to casual passersby.
They were asleep, cuddled up like puppies on a love seat with the light of the TV playing over their sleeping faces. The two on the outside had their arms around the one in the middle, heads pillowed on their shoulders; all three looked like they had been crying. There were three bowls and a gallon of ice cream on the table in front of them.
"They haven't gone out at all today, have they?" Robin didn't answer. "Kid?" he prodded.
"Nightwing, I…" Robin gulped. "I didn't want to say anything, but…I know them. From before I was Robin."
"You know them?" Nightwing repeated. That changed everything. It made simple surveillance a potential catastrophe.
"The one in the middle…she bought me ice cream."
"Have you told Batman?"
"No! He'd call it a conflict of interest, and it isn't. I'm not going to stop doing my job just because one of my enemies was nice to me once. It's just…I thought maybe you should know." He looked guilty, with a hint of defiance kept under reign but still clearly visible. He wasn't going to hurt his friend any more than Bruce would break Selina's arm if he caught her with a juicy canary diamond, but just like Batman, he wasn't going to forget why he was there.
And Batman wouldn't be able to understand that.
"I won't say a word," Nightwing said reluctantly. "Just be careful. Old friends make the worst enemies." It would probably be best to minimize any potential trouble by getting the kid out of the way. "Listen, there's no reason for both of us to sit here all night, waiting for something to move. Why don't you swing out by Arkham, make sure the Scarecrow is still where he's supposed to be. They shouldn't have released him to anyone but his wife, but you can never be too sure. Besides, it can't hurt to have one more patrol tonight, with Batgirl sleeping and Batman trying to fool everyone into thinking he's not distracted."
Robin grinned. Maybe he still knew he was being gotten rid of, but at least he was being a good sport about it. He probably appreciated being sent away with a little more than a curt dismissal and a glare.
With the kid gone, Nightwing spent a few minutes prowling around the building in search of anything interesting. He could have gotten inside with a little effort, but he didn't want to risk letting them know he'd been there. He didn't see much else worth dealing with, except their car, a beat-up blue and white VW bus that didn't look like it would make it three feet out of its parking space. He found Robin's tracker, but only after some careful searching. The girls weren't going to stumble across it unless they had some reason to be suspicious.
There wasn't much else to do. He was beginning to think about going for a sandwich when Robin's voice came in over the radio.
"Uh, Nightwing?"
"Go ahead, Robin."
"I'm at Arkham. It's on fire."
He frowned.
"Arkham can't be on fire, Robin. It's a stone building."
"Um…not anymore."