I do not own Young Justice.


A Girl's Guide to Killing Heroes

Chapter Four: Her choice, his curiosity

"I was left to my own devices,

Many days, fell away, with nothing to show,

And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we loved."

-"Pompeii" Bastille


Mt. Justice

April 7

"Any news?"

Nightwing shook his head as Robin came to stand beside him, watching as his practically older brother and mentor sifted through files and databases, the main hologram beside him an image of the sniper they'd encountered the night before.

Jade green eyes, pale and sharp beneath a black masquerade mask was the only thing keeping her identity a secret from them. Long black locks pulled into a messy ponytail, decked in tight leather shorts and boots, with a jacket over a zip up. There were shots of her at different angles, but all were taken from last night, nothing from past history in League bases coming up for their mystery assassin.

Nightwing shifted a hand to his hip, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully at the scattering of files and reports before him. Aside from what they'd logged in last night, and a few—very few—statements of rumors along underground sites of a sharp-shooter for hire that never failed a mission, there was nothing on this Mockingbird.

Blue eyes were thoughtful beneath his mask, and he tapped a few keys and watched as the picture pulled up alongside the files, her file newly created from the encounter last night. Robin was silent, shifting through the documents until he spoke. "Could she be the one who took down Holman and King?"

"Possibly." Nightwing felt it was plausible, almost reasonable considering the sudden appearance of the sniper, but it was a chance, considering how vast the number of assassins out there was. "But then there's the chance we just happened to run into her while she was on her own job."

But she was good. The rumors of never failing a mission were bound to be true from the skills she'd displayed. It was raw, ruthless fighting, unrefined in a way that made it its own. Not to mention if she had the skills of a sniper, they'd have to keep their eyes on the rooftops in case she should appear again.

But the idea itself seemed faint. From what he could tell, she really was the kind you called up when you needed a job done, an assassin for hire, nothing more. And in that case, her missions would never link together, her targets would be random, and they'd never be able to pin down where she showed up next.

"But what really bugs me," Nightwing tapped a key and the floor rose upwards, a small table with several bullet shells and the strange red tipped ones that she'd used coming to light. "Are these guys here."

"Any fingerprints?" Robin carefully lifted the shell without getting his own markings on it, and Nightwing shook his head. The two turned their gaze to the red tipped casings and Robin frowned. "Are these signature?"

"Still tracking to find a manufacturer, but these are all custom." Nightwing sighed. "But the problem is what those are for—they're filled with an excess release of polymer fibers that when it collided with the tires of the truck, popped the wheel and made it stick to the ground."

"So it couldn't get away..." Robin's eyes widened. "When I was fighting her, I thought she'd pulled the trigger on some bomb, but she stopped the countdown before anyone got hurt."

"She had her own mission that night," Nightwing turned, gazing at the picture of the crooked grin assassin before them. "But she didn't intend on letting those girls get away."

"...so she has some morals then?" Robin crossed his arms over his chest, frowning at the image before him. "If she was assigned to kill Luis, then she should've left right after."

"But she didn't, and that's what's bugging me." He hated when villains weren't...well, weren't totally bad. "She helped us."

Lines got blurred and morals got harder to distinguish when you couldn't tell whether or not to hand cuff them or thank them. She was a murderer, but she wasn't low enough to let those innocent girls get caught in any harm. It messed with whether or not you should treat them honestly or what they deserved. It was clear she wasn't above taking lives, but she was well enough to save ones as well.

And normally when that was the case, it meant there was a chance that they could be turned away from all of this.

But we all know how that can turn out. He thought to Bruce's constant dance with Catwoman and all those failed attempts at turning bad guys good.

"You don't know anything about me." Her eyes, cold, sharp, lips pulled back into a scowl. He tapped his fingers along the hologram and inhaled. But then again, there are a lot of cases where people have turned good.

"We won't stop looking up more information on her," Nightwing said finally, turning to Robin he added. "But there's no way to know for sure if she'll appear again. For all we know, it may be the last time we ever here from her."

Unlike a certain girl I know. Somewhat similar jade eyes flashed through his mind and Nightwing sighed, thinking about the hassle he'd have to go through to find his other mysterious gal.

"Alright, tell me if you need anything." Robin added, shifting to one foot as Nightwing merely nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he gazed at the face before him.

"Thanks, Tim." In the gentle emptiness of the cave Nightwing turned, offering the younger boy a smile. "Go take a break; I'll call the team in on the next debriefing later."

"Got it." Robin perked up slightly, stalking off as Nightwing followed his form until it disappeared. Slightly warmed by the appearance of his practically-brother, Nightwing turned back to the matter at hand, sorting through files and contemplating what would be a better use of his time. Search after our elusive assassin, or my runaway beauty?

After a momentary pause, Nightwing quickly typed in key codes and found himself accessing his school's databases, choosing to run a facial recognition file as he settled back.

One more search couldn't hurt, right?


"Achoo!" Juliette jumped as I sniffled, rubbing my nose and shaking my head at the sudden sneeze. "Ugh, I feel like someone's talking shit about me."

"Sorry, did I think out loud?" I cuffed her over the head and my sister rolled her eyes, grinning impishly as we walked down the street, groceries in hand as we made our way back home.

New Haven was a small city located between Bludhaven and a little ways away from the bustling underground of Gotham City. The sky was clouded, thick, gray clouds rolling around over head as we kept to the edge of the worn sidewalk, cars zipping past and the occasional person stalking down the street, hunched over and taut or carefree and uncaring.

It wasn't the best area, Gotham itself wasn't. But it made up for it's night time sleaze with an air of calm in the day, a slow, lulling sort of movement that went with the whole city. If I could, I'd move if it was what Juliette wanted, but this place was home, and for now, we'd stay.

"Sleaze bag to our left." Juliette commented, and I glanced upwards as I spotted a man slowly stalking his way toward us, hunched over and hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, eyes shifting this way and that.

I cocked my head to the side, narrowing my eyes at him and refusing to relinquish my stare until he glanced upwards. Catching the sharp, cold eyes directed his way he quickly veered course, and my shoulders never slumped while Juliette laughed slightly. "I wish it was that easy—guys just seem blind sometimes. No matter how hard you glare they keep coming your way."

"Persistence is key, I guess." I shrugged my shoulders and adjusted our bags, glancing to the side and walking forward, a slight pick up to our step as we made our way to our own apartments. "You know he likes you when he's willing to survive that stare."

"Wait till he gets a real look at me," Juliette mused, holding her hands out and splaying her fingers, watching the fingerless leather gloves before her with a thoughtful look, and I eyed her carefully. "That will get them running—"

"If he can't handle a little heat," stormy-gray eyes turned to look at me and I gazed at her softly, earnestly. "Then he doesn't deserve you."

"Aw, thanks." Juliette rolled her eyes, cracking a smile and tossing her hands behind her head. "I know, I know. But guys are the least of my worries—if anything, you should find someone nice and go out for once—"

"I'm busy."

"Take a break—"

"I'm busy."

"Maybe get to know someone nice..." Juliette shrugged, looking away innocently as she shoved her hands into her pockets, loose and wavy red curls tucked into a ponytail mimicking my own. "You never know. I just don't want you to die alone with cats—actually, for you, I could imagine you just sitting in some old rocking chair polishing your guns—"

"Haha, real funny. Keep that up and I'm making soup for dinner."

"But you hate soup!"

"So do you, I'm willing to sacrifice to make you suffer."

"You're evil."

"You have no idea."


"April 30th."

"...what?" I looked up from my mouthful of sugar glaze and my ever so insightful textbook on human biology—why did I take that class again? It wasn't to kill people better, was it? God, now that was terrible—and Lauren beamed down at me, slapping a paper down onto our table and perching her hands on her hips.

"The Spring Masquerade."

"...that's cool." I gazed at her warily, conflicted between humoring whatever idea she had floating around and returning to my studies. All those late nights tended to make you fall behind, and right now, I really needed to at least get an average on the test. "I guess?"

"It's great." Lauren took a seat with a flourish, bright blonde locks flaring behind her as she grinned, positively sparkling as she shoved the paper, nicely decorated with a mask and flowers issuing the date and times. "Do you know what this means?"

"Yes." I answered. Lauren flashed me a look and I shook my head. "No, no, I don't."

"It means that you and I are going to be going." My eyes went wide and I opened my mouth as Lauren swept on. "With dates, potentially scouting for future husbands that we can one day marry and live the rest of our lives in peace with."

"That's—no, just no." I shook my head firmly as Lauren nodded eagerly, smiling brightly. "Lor, what are you even talking about?"

"I'm talking about your own debut! You need to get out there and find yourself someone." Lauren explained simply, I frowned, recalling Juliette's teasing and suddenly finding myself growing wary as the blonde before me continued to rattle on. "The most I ever get you to do is go shopping and even then you never buy anything—"

"I only get what I need—"

"I get it, you're cheap. But come on! Live once and awhile, won't that be nice? Go dancing, meet someone nice," she waggled her eyebrows and I couldn't help but grin, shaking my head as I set down my donut and arched a brow at her. "This school is full of rich, single hunks waiting to sweep you off your feet, and all you worry about are bills, bills, jobs, and coupons. Coupons! What are you? A single, thirty year old mom?"

"You saw me do it once." I muttered, cheeks flushing slightly. "There was a great deal on the dairy products—"

"I will pay for everything." Lauren shot a finger at me. "You just go."

"Lauren, I could never let you do that."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't."

"You don't love me then."

"I guess so."

Lauren's eyes went wide with horror and I rolled my own, closing my textbook and sighing. "Besides, it's still a long time away—we'll worry about it later, alright?"

Lauren narrowed her eyes. "You better keep that night free."

"What if something important comes up?"

"Screw it." Lauren looked firm until her gaze flickered above my head and her cheeks flushed, suddenly patting her own hair as she coughed into her hand and glanced away. "Speaking of screw..."

I frowned at her, turning around only to be met with a pair of dazzling blue eyes, and I found myself frozen, momentary horror flickering through me once more as Dick flashed me a bright, charming smile. "I was hoping I'd find you here again."

"...hey." I blinked, registering the fact that the raven haired teen was before me once more as Dick smiled. "Dick."

"Hey, yourself." He glanced over to Lauren and smiled dashingly, the kind of millionaire smile that'd make you sign your life away to whatever paper he shoved in front of you. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No—no. You go for it." Lauren ushered her hands my way and I shot her a dull look as Dick laughed, full, boyish—that nice, resounding laugh that was just nice to hear. Looking back to me she whispered not so discreetly. "This is what I'm talking about!"

"Then if I'm not interrupting anything," Dick planted his hands firmly on our table, leaning over the top and gazing down at me. I swallowed, glancing away and back to those impossibly blue eyes as he gave me a long, hard look. "I must demand that you at least give me your number, right now."

"My number?"

"Your number."

"...why?" I arched a brow quizzically and Dick's lips curled upwards while Lauren slapped her hand to her head, muttering under her breath. "I mean, I don't really mind but..."

"So this time if you run away again," Dick waved his phone in his hand. "I can at least hunt you down. Although, I've got a feeling you come here often though."

"We do." Lauren offered, and I shot her a withering look while turning back to Dick, rubbing the back of my head before shrugging.

"I don't mind." Dick smiled brightly and I took his phone, punching in my number and setting up the contact as Dick did the same to my own phone. "Happy now?"

"You've made my day." I cracked a grin and Dick's eyes brightened.

Alright, he has your number, it's not like he's going to hunt you down and stalk you—he doesn't seem like the type. Forcing down the paranoia that'd grown over the years—an assassin always has to be careful, mind you—I offered him the faintest grin. If he was making such an effort to find me, he had to be a nice guy, right? He was making an effort, so it'd be rude to run off and try and disappear. And something tells me that'd be hard with him. The best I could do was just humor him and maybe he'd get bored, if not, hey, maybe I'd make a new friend.

"Sit." Lauren scooted over in the booth, patting the seat beside her. Dick nodded his thanks and she flushed, grinning widely as those blue eyes turned my way once more. "Now, Dick told me you two know each other, and all you told me," she flashed a dark look my way, "is that you ate donuts with Dick Grayson."

"We did." Dick offered, inclining his head slightly as he smiled, his eyes never leaving mine.

Those blue irises were really blue, I realized. There was no way around it. He was good-looking, I'd give him that, but if there had to be a reason why I could never look away, it'd have to be his eyes. And now they glittered, shining with this emotion I couldn't quite identify, something like triumph and intensity.

"Among other things."

Cheeky bastard. I felt my lips tug upwards as Lauren leaned forward eagerly. "Like stuffing our faces and talking about how embarrassing our friends are."

Dick's eyes flashed, mischievous; as if he were taunting the memory I tried so desperately to file and trash, choosing to forget my night of despair and wistful longing.

The black haired teen leaned back into the chair of the booth. "But now that I have you, I thoroughly intend to share a wonderful conversation and get to know you better."

"Better get your priers and chainsaw," Lauren muttered, rolling her eyes as she propped her head on her hand. "Trying to get under her is like trying to unmask a hero."

"I'm pretty good at getting things off." Dick offered, smiling brightly.

Lauren's cheeks flushed, looking at me and mouthing words and suggestions I chose to ignore as I rolled my eyes at Dick. The raven haired male simply grinned, eyes glittering, and I pointedly shoved the last bits of my donut into my mouth, relishing the sweet glaze as I spoke around my mouthful. "How's life?"

Lauren flashed me an appalled look, and Dick simply smiled, undeterred, seemingly more amused if anything by my lack of manners. "It's... well, it's interesting for me I suppose. And you?"

"You have no idea." I swallowed, with a glare from Lauren I wiped my mouth and brought the milk carton closer to me. "It's not easy working and going to school."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Dick mused, something flickering across his face before he leaned forward, grinning interestedly. "What do you work as?"

An assassin for hire sent to murder drug lords to heroes. "I do some night shift jobs when I can, part time work." I explained with ease, and Dick nodded, deep blues shining. "You?"

"I help out with my dad's company." I nodded in return, curling my fingers around the milk carton. Figures.

"Wayne Corporations has their hands in most business anyway, so you should be set." Lauren added, and Dick smiled modestly.

"I try to make my own living."

"Don't we all." I mused, Dick's eyes flickered back to my form and I kept my own gaze carefully trained on the table before me.

"...you thought I was some rich boy living off my father, didn't you?"

"...partly."

"I'm offended." Dick tilted his head back, a look of mock hurt on his features as I allowed myself to look at him over the rim of the carton. "After that long night we spent pouring our hearts out, I figured you thought different."

"You can hold a conversation," I offered, shrugging nonchalantly as Dick arched a fine brow. "I'll give you that."

"That's not the only thing I can keep going, you know."

I choked, the milk forcibly choking it's way down my throat as I coughed, and Lauren whistled, tugging at the collar of her shirt while Dick simply smiled his dazzling pretty boy smile—this guy. I wiped my mouth with the corner of my hand and flashed him a wary look. I've got to stay on my toes with this one.

"Well then," Lauren suddenly stood, and we looked over at the blonde as she pushed her chair back and smiled at us. "I'm leaving because the sexual tension in the air right now is strong enough to rip my clothes off—"

"There's not—"

"I don't think it's that bad—"

I gave Dick a long, suffering look, and he returned it with a blinding smile. Lauren glanced between the two of us and grinned, swiping her bag off the counter and waving over her shoulder as she turned. "I'll see you in class. And I hope to see you," Lauren winked at the raven haired teen at our table and smirked. "More often."

Dick smiled. "I hope so too."

"Maybe at her apartment next time!" Lauren called over her shoulder. I spluttered, nearly choking once more while the blonde left us, and after a moment, Dick turned, smiling broadly as I patted my chest.

"You've got some...interesting friends."

"You have no idea." I inhaled, relaxing as I slumped against the couch and finally looked at the teen in front of me, watching him watch me. "...sorry, um, about running off last time, something came up. I wasn't actually trying to...run away."

"Don't worry about it." Dick smiled, chuckling softly. "We all get busy sometimes."

"Yeah." I smiled in agreement and he smirked, idly turning a cup on the table.

"Besides, if you were trying to run away," his eyes glittered, intense, and I paused as his lips curled upwards. "I think I could hunt you down."

"You said the same thing last time." I rested my chin on my palm and eyed him dryly. "But that didn't seem to work out for you last time."

"I'm here now though, aren't I?" Dick inquired, holding his hands outwards, and I couldn't help but crack a smile at his somewhat charming nature—he was the kind of guy that weaseled his way in whether or not you wanted him too, and at the same time, the kind of guy you had to be careful with, or the next thing you knew you'd been spilling all of your secrets and worst fears to him.

But would that really be so bad?

After a moment's pause I decided that yes, that would be bad. Especially considering the kind of secrets I had hanging around.

My lips tugged downwards and I busied myself with drumming my fingers along the table, small tap taps against the countertop as I recalled the offer still hanging over my own head. I have to tell Ryan soon, don't I?

"Hey," fingers touched my own and I froze, tensing for a moment before I met ever blue eyes and Dick frowned, looking curious and slightly worried. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine." I blinked, pulling my hand out from under his, not ignoring the flicker across his face as he pulled his own hand away and settled back into the seat. "Sorry, just thinking."

"I thought you were getting ready to run from me again." Dick admitted, laughing slightly, and I shrugged.

"If I were, you wouldn't know." I smiled despite myself. "And I doubt you could catch me."

"Is that a challenge?" He was all smiles and shining blue eyes once more and I gazed at him for a moment, faintly wondering if that was what perfection was supposed to be as his smile furthered into a smirk. "Because I'm almost certain I could find you."

"You'd be surprised." I warned, stretching my arms over my head and relaxing. "I'm pretty good at running off."

"I'm a bit of a detective." Dick's eyes were shining. "I'm certain I could find you."

In that moment, it seemed something of a silent promise was made. Something neither of us noticed amidst the playful banter, as our fates finalized, that we wouldn't think back to until everything came crashing down.

But for now, it was nice. I hid a small smile behind the milk cartoon pressed to my lips, as the people shifted around us, ticking in a gentle clockwork as we sat there, tucked away in the warmth of the café.

And I wondered, quietly, selfishly, if it could be like this.

Normal.


"No murder tonight?" I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice as I gazed through the scope lens and into the skyscraper building before me, a tall, towering thing probably pumped full of guards and security.

Not that something like that's stopped me before.

"Nope." Ryan popped the 'p' over the communicator, the distant sound of him typing away on the keys echoing in my ears. "All we've got to do is retrieve this case. No assassinations. Well, the instructions did say to do whatever necessary but you catch my drift."

"Loud and clear." I pulled up the bipod stand and tucked the gun away into my duffle, leaning over the edge of the roof and dumping it into the open dumpster below as I adjusted my belt, filled with what I would need tonight.

I slipped a grappling hook from my belt and took aim, the goggles over my eyes sharpening and mapping out the route as I fired, hearing the hiss fill the air as the hook locked into place atop the roof. I tugged the line once and jumped, the cool night air brushing past me sharply as I followed the line, swinging around and resisting the urge to smile at the breathtaking feel.

"Fifth floor, east corner of the building, office belongs too some guy named Antony Lee. There should be a safe somewhere behind the wall." Ryan reported dutifully as I landed atop the roof, taking a moment and eyeing the top before I made my way toward the east end of the roof. "I've blocked off security cams for the entire floor, but there are still guards wandering around."

I knelt down beside the vent system, unscrewing the top and popping it open as I slipped in, my feet hitting soundlessly on the metal beneath me as I pulled the top over my head and flipped a flashlight on, tucking it behind my ear as I crawled through the vents. "Where to?"

"Keep going straight and make a left, there should be a dead end and a crate below you, check to see if the close is clear and enter." Ryan responded, I followed the directions, staying as quiet as possible as I paused, a guard passing beneath me before I continued on my way.

"Have you been thinking about that offer?"

"I have." More than I should. I turned the flashlight toward the left, following the bend and gazing ahead of me. "I can't help but wonder...why though, you know? I get that all heroes are probably walking targets no matter what, but..."

"Makes you wonder if he did something to piss someone off." Ryan agreed. "Or if there's more to him than we think."

He is Batman's trusted partner. The thought made me pause, a curious thought in my head. Could that be it?

But then the group would be just as better off hiring them to kill Batman if they wanted the fearsome hero out of commission. I scowled, shaking my head and pausing at the dead end, gazing down at the open spaced room below me as I pulled out my screwdriver. "What about you?"

"I've been wondering how fast I could get out of here if we actually did it." Ryan admitted. "God knows the kind of friends he's got."

A lot. My mind instantly answered. He had a team, a partner, maybe even a lover—he'd be missed, mourned. And there would be plenty of people looking to avenge him if that was the case.

"Cost is clear." Ryan murmured, and I popped the lid off, sliding it to the side and slipping through the opening.

My boots hit the ground with a quiet thud as I waited, counting in my head before I straightened and took a glance around me. The office was wide, well furnished and beyond spacious as a cool breeze billowed into the room. I took a once over and made my way to the wall behind the large wooden desk, running gloved fingers over the sleek surface.

"I'd try the painting." Ryan offered, and I looked over to the large self-portrait of the man we were robbing, and I slid over to it, bringing my ear to the soft canvas. "That's where it usually is."

"Don't you think that's a little cliché?" I paused, the silent ticking of the safe behind the portrait hitting my ears and I scowled.

"Told you so."

"Oh, shut up." I ran my fingers along the bottom and lifted, stepping back and nearly tripping over myself at the sudden weight. The painting lurched and I backed into the desk, arms shaking as I lowered it to the ground and gazed at the sleek metal box in front of me, fitted into the wall.

"The code is thirty, two, twenty-seven." Ryan offered, and I paused briefly, arching a brow as I slid the knob around, hitting the number.

"And how do you know this?"

"Am I not a world-famous underground hacker?"

"...it was on the mission briefing, wasn't it?"

"So?"

I rolled my eyes, smiling as the safe slid open. This is almost too easy. A solid, sleek black briefcase lay in the center amidst various stacks of cash and documents. I reached in, gripping the handle and pulling it out with ease. I wouldn't mind doing jobs like these... no guns, just good old fashion stealing.

...maybe I could...couldn't I?

"That's it." Ryan let out a small laugh. "Almost too easy, huh?"

A sudden click filled the room and I froze, head whipping around to meet the wide eyes of a guard as he paused in the doorway, frozen.

...almost.

In a practiced motion, I pulled a gun from my holster, taking aim and firing as the security guard turned, reaching for his own belt. The shot echoed throughout the room and he fell to the ground, slamming into the door and slumping downwards. I paused, breathing wildly for a moment before I forced myself to calm down, shaking my head and pocketing my gun. So much for no killing.

I bent down to check his pulse, but my entire body went rigid as a blaring, shrill siren suddenly filled the entire building. My eyes went wide and I looked up at the flashing sirens, cursing as I glanced down, realizing the guard had clicked a security alarm a moment before he'd been shot.

I should really start aiming for hands then.

Quickly, Ryan mumbling curses in my ear, I leapt onto the desk and hopped upwards, gripping the vent with the briefcase in one hand and slipping through, closing the lid behind me as I shuffled through the vent, the wailing alarms ringing through the metal pathway as I scrambled back the way I came. "What happened? I'm trying to shut them down right now but—"

"Guard." I kicked open the top and slipped through, pulling myself forward and resting my elbows on the edges. "Pulled an alarm before I—"

"Before you what?"

I paused, resting all my weight on one arm as I half pulled myself from the vent. My eyes turned toward the side, meeting the white fabric of a familiar mask as the male before me tensed, arms crossed over his chest as he smirked.

Nightwing.

I let out a tired, suffering sigh, propping my chin on one hand as I eyed him distastefully. The hero was silent, simply gazing back with a smirk curled over his lips, and I heard Ryan switching between nervous laughter and curses as he typed furiously at keys.

"Before I calmly explained to him why I need this case." I held up the briefcase in question, smiling charmingly up at the man sent to apprehend me. "Because I kinda need it."

"I see," Nightwing nodded his head. "That makes complete sense."

"I'm glad you understand." I nodded in response. "That's very kind of you."

...

...

...

"You do realize I'm going to bring you in now, right?"

"I figured." I shrugged, pulling myself upwards so I sat on the edge of the vent and I flashed him a blinding smile. "But it doesn't mean I'm going to let you now, does it?"

Nightwing lunged and I fell backwards, bringing my foot up into his chest as I gripped the case in one hand, hitting the ground with the other and turning myself around as I backed away. Nightwing turned, flipping over and bringing his leg around in a kick as I lurched backwards.

I ducked a punch and brought my foot around, his arm blocking his side as I swung the briefcase around and slammed it into his shoulder. Using his grip on my foot as leverage I arched, springing backwards and stepping back until my foot collided with the edge of the rooftop.

"No scouts today?" I offered breathlessly, ducking another swing and trying to swipe his feet out from under him and failing as he leapt to the side.

"Didn't think you could handle all of us," he smirked, bringing his stick around and nearly slamming me in the side of my head as I ducked. "I should be enough."

"Cute." I skidded backwards, twirling the case in my hand as I set a hand on my hip. "You think you can catch me."

"Oh," my eyes went wide as my legs fell out from under me, Nightwing lunging forward and nearly pinning me to the ground as he pressed a stick against my neck. "I know I can."

"Cocky." Ryan mused. "But oddly charming. Guy's got skill."

"If you can listen, then you can help out." I muttered, Nightwing's brows furrowed and I bucked my hips upwards, swiping a knife from my side and swinging it upwards as he dodged the assault and I scrambled upwards, backing away and pocketing the blade.

"You looked like you were having fun, I didn't want to intrude."

"Someone else I should know about?" Nightwing inquired, and I offered him a smile, holding my hands up innocently.

"I'm a one guy kind of girl," I put my free hand to my chest. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"I thought we had something going on." Nightwing responded, and I leapt backwards as he advanced, fists swinging and sticks barely brushing my nose as he smirked. "Nice to hear you feel the same."

"I didn't expect to see you again." I admitted, grinning breathlessly as I turned and brought a foot to his chest, knocking him back a few paces as I turned. "You aren't following me now, are you?"

I really hadn't to be honest. I'd had a few run ins with heroes from time to time, but never anything this close hand. It was oddly startling, and I was beginning to feel the need to go much more covert to avoid these run ins, but something about this whole thing made it seem hard to do that anymore.

"And here I thought you only killed," Nightwing chuckled dryly, and I paused briefly, feeling something in me twist at the statement. "But you steal too—have to say I prefer this though."

"I take whatever job I can get." I responded tightly. He doesn't know anything, to him, you're just a coldhearted killer, remember? You shouldn't care either way.

But it hurt, I realized. He'd hit far too close to home, and the sudden mood that descended upon me made me stiffen, shoulders slumping because it was true. I could never argue back because I did kill those people. If he wanted to call me a monster, a murderer, he could, and there was nothing I could say in return.

"You look after everyone for me, alright?"

"Do yourself a favor, Mockingbird," I glanced upwards at the use of my alias, gazing at him thoughtfully as Nightwing paused, frowning. "Get out of this while you can."

"Pardon?"

"I've seen people like you—I know people like you." Nightwing stepped forward and I stepped back. "If someone's forcing you to do this, we can help—"

"Forcing?" I arched a brow, laughing at the notion and Nightwing paused. "You think I'm being forced? Well, that's refreshing."

The hero before me paused, tense, and I titled my head back, arching a brow. "I don't work for anyone—I work for myself. When there's a job I take it, no one's forcing me into anything."

But I'd rather it be like that. I slipped a hand to my side, fingering the cold metal beside me. It'd be so much easier like that.

"I was hoping that wasn't the case," Nightwing sighed, standing straight and gripping his eskrima sticks. "But if you work for yourself, you can choose not too, can't you?"

This is the guy they want me to kill. The thought was oddly chilling as I stared at the hero before me, wondering the kind of life he lived, the kind of people he was important too—thoughts I tried to never let influence my mind because it made it harder to pull that trigger. But at the moment, I couldn't help but wonder if it was really worth it, killing someone like him—what kind of a person was he anyway?

"I guess." I shrugged, smiling crookedly as he tensed. "But then where would the fun be in that?"

The door to the rooftop suddenly slammed open and I turned, Nightwing tensing as I whipped out my gun and aimed, two guards sprinting onto the rooftop as they took aim. "Don't move!"

Nightwing's gaze seemed to remain heavily on the gun in my hands, but I kept an eye on the guards, watching their fingers curl over the trigger as they steadied themselves, one of them perched dangerously close to the edge of the rooftop. Rookie mistake. He'd fall back from the recoil if he took aim from there.

What kind of a person are you?

"Mockingbird," I risked a glance Nightwing's way, and the hero had discarded his sticks, palms spread outwards in a gentle sign of openness. "Put the gun down."

I flashed him a look of disbelief, the two guards stiffening, guns drawn, and I glanced to the shaky one, his fingers twitching over the trigger. "And put my hands up, right? Might as well bend down and handcuff myself."

"I think you could fight your way past them without that," Nightwing said calmly. I eyed him for a moment, wondering how he was able to give me the chance to put it down when he'd seen me shoot someone before—he knew what I could do. "I get it, you're not good—but you're not evil, are you?"

My attention turned fully towards him now, jaded eyes narrowed as he simply gazed back, expression unreadable beneath his mask. "You didn't just defuse that bomb for yourself—you were looking out for those girls."

He knew. The murmur was soft, gentle, and I quickly pulled the blinds down on the feeling. He doesn't think you're heartless.

The feeling was...nice.

"I had one job and I did it." I answered coolly. "They just happened to make it easier if he couldn't get away with it."

"If that's how you see it, fine." Nightwing shrugged, but he offered her a small smile. "But either way, you saved those girls."

My eyes strayed back to the guards, who'd attempted to inch closer, guns drawn. But the second one, shaky, remained too close to the edge, and the shaking of his shoulders and the trembling gun made it clear he wasn't used to this. But that made him dangerous—fear made people lousy shots, and the trigger was never to far off from a simple twitch and bang.

"...why?" Nightwing questioned finally, something like confusion laced with the faintest hint of wonder and annoyance. "You could've left them for us, but you helped. Why?"

I paused, standing straighter as I turned to him and letting the gun fall to my side. "Why do you think?"

Nightwing frowned, but before he could answer the nervous guard jerked, his finger closing over the trigger and firing. My eyes went wide and I lunged, shoving Nightwing back and hissing as the bullet scraped my shoulder, passing through as I stumbled. Large hands steadied me and I glanced up, Nightwing's face contorted into one of worry and surprise as he reached forward but I jerked back, stumbling over my feet as I moved as far away as I could.

"Look out!" My eyes snapped back to the guard who'd fired, a look of fear on his face as he paled, his legs colliding against the railing from the recoil as he staggered back and suddenly he was tilting over until—shit.

With a cry he fell over, the other guard rushing over only to grasp air. Beside me Nightwing stiffened and I turned, firing my grappling gun and bracing myself on the edge of the roof, risking a glance back.

What kind of a person are you?

He only hesitated for a moment.

Nightwing didn't even spare a second glance back as he ran, firing off his own hook and swinging downwards and after the guard. I gazed back at his retreating form, thoughts clicking in my mind as I turned, biting my lip and swinging downwards, briefcase in hand.

But the relief of getting out, with only a dull ache in my shoulder, did nothing to stop the train wreck of thoughts in my mind.


"Shit!" I slapped a hand over my mouth, practically stomping my foot repeatedly in pain as I inhaled sharply, wiping away whatever blood was left on my shoulder as I tossed the bloodied towels aside.

The wound had only been a scrape, luckily, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. I inhaled and exhaled, biting my lip as I awkwardly wrapped the bandages around my shoulder and pulled the knot tight, leaning back against the chair as I sighed, slumping.

My apartment was silent, safe for the low drone of the T.V coming from my father's room meaning he was asleep, and I shut my eyes, simply breathing softly as I waited for the painkillers to work their magic.

Grudgingly I stood, limping over to my room and nudging the cracked open door as I slipped in. My eyes landed on Juliette's silent figure, her body rising and falling as she turned, burying her face further into her pillow.

My gaze softened and I leaned over, tugging the discarded blankets over her body and brushing aside a strand of hair. Her nose twitched and her brows furrowed, and I noticed the phone clutched loosely in her hand, the screen glowing faintly in the darkened room, my number punched in.

I was silent, reaching forward and tugging it from her grip as I closed the top and set it down on her nightstand, taking a seat on her bed and gazing at her face thoughtfully.

What do you want?

I smiled, gently ruffling her hair and turning my attention towards my own bed beside hers. My movements were halted though as I spotted the fresh batch of white envelopes on my nightstand, bills and payments due as I frowned. Juliette and I had made a habit of swiping the mail before our father could get to it so I could pay off whatever I could at the time.

What kind of a person are you?

My fingers curled over the paper, gazing down hard at it as I turned back to Juliette, sleeping soundly as she rolled over and breathed a grumbled sigh before nuzzling further under the covers. My eyes softened and I sat down on my own bed, mattress dipping as I bit my lip.

"You can choose not to then, can't you?"

I paused on one envelope, the crisp, firm paper and golden seal catching my attention as I quickly recognized Gotham Academy's stamp. I quickly tore the top open, pulling the papers out and skimming through, heart sinking as the regular reminder that the tuition for another term was coming up, and if Juliette could keep her grades up, they'd take off so much but still...

Is it worth it?

The faint moonlight poured in through the window, reflecting off little things, but the glint of one in particular caught my eye. I glanced upwards, gazing at the photo frame in front of me, Juliette and I curled under the arms of a smiling, bright-eyed woman, and I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering if the world was purposely pointing everything out too me.

"You protect the family now, alright?"

I breathed, a shuddering, shaky breath as I ran a hand through my hair and set the bills and papers down, holding my head in my hands as I bit my lip. You trained yourself to get past this, to not break down. It takes one shot. One shot...

"I think you're good."

Maybe I still was. Somewhere in there, I could still believe I did the right thing, I wasn't a murderer. But what took priority above all of that was them. They mattered more than my own morale, and if a single shot could keep dad working and Juliette healthy, and everyone happy, I'd take it.

It was survival of the fittest.

I gave Juliette's sleeping figure one long, warm look, and I dialed in a number etched into my memory into my phone, bringing it to my ear.

"Hello?" Ryan's groggy voice reached my ear and he yawned. "M.B?"

"I'll do it."


And now all the cards start falling into place. :)

I'm liking writing scenes between Dick and M.J, its pretty fun to try and come up with witty banter between them. I really can't wait till we get to see things from some other point of views though, so look forward to it! And more appearances from the Team as well. :)

Thank you all so much for you kind reviews, follows, and favorites! It's nice to know that you all like the story so far, as well as the writing—you have no idea how nice it is just to read your reviews and smile because you're all such nice, wonderful people.

You rock.

But I hope you've all enjoyed the chapter! Despite the heavy turn of events, I promise the next chapter will be much lighter and happier. ;)

THANK YOU FOR READING!

Marshmellow-

-OUT!