Author's Note: This is shorter than the previous chapters have been, but the end just wanted to be there, and the rest felt like unnecessary filler or things to include later, so I did it this way.

And I know it's way overdue and should be longer because of that, but I am just going to have to be content with actually managing some kind of update after so long. The Italian phrase I used is supposed to be an idiom for "you're talking crazy." I got it from the internet, so it's probably inaccurate.

Clues and Confrontations

"I'd ask if that was what I thought it was, but I have enough experience with that sound to know it is," the guy in the mask said, and Frank had to agree—it wasn't like he didn't know the way gunfire sounded. He'd recognized the shot as well, and while he wasn't able to pin down the exact type of gun that had fired it like some people did, he knew that shot wasn't good. If more had followed, he'd felt better of it, strange as that sounded, because that would have meant that the gunman missed. This didn't sound like a miss.

Frank nodded. "Me, too."

The vigilante moved first, throwing some kind of smoke grenade into the hall before he moved into it. Frank followed him to where the Network agent had fallen, hand over a wound in his side. He knelt down beside him, his mind racing through his first aid courses and biology lessons. Damn, this was bad. Laurence wasn't likely to make it, and admittedly, Frank wasn't all that sorry about it.

"Should have known."

"Well, the fact that you came instead of him suggests you were expendable," Frank said, though if he was trying to be funny, he wasn't. He wasn't wrong, either. If the Gray Man hadn't come himself, he had reasons. Frank wasn't sure if he'd set this agent up to die or if it was just self-preservation or even some strange trap for a rogue or double agent that this idiot had walked right into.

Laurence laughed, bitterness creeping into the weak sound. "Score one for the genius brother."

"You were here for a reason," Frank reminded him, fighting against his own reaction. He and Joe had a tense enough relationship with their own handler, but this particular field agent made that dynamic look like the best of friends. Frank swore Laurence would have eliminated Joe in a heartbeat if he was able to, and while he had a little more respect for Frank's skills, it wasn't much. He hated working with them, and whenever the Network assigned him to them in some futile "character building" exercise, it never went well. "What was it?"

"We need to get him out of here," the vigilante said. "You can question him later."

Laurence snorted. "Didn't know masks... made stupid... but should have."

"And maybe if you didn't insult everyone you worked with, you'd have made it a lot further in life," Frank told him. He shook his head. "We don't have time for this, Laurence. We all know that. Even you do. I can hear it in your voice. Tell me why you were here. What were you supposed to tell me? Spit it out while you still can."

Laurence grabbed hold of him, yanking him closer, and Frank almost jerked himself free, instinct getting the better of him. "Block..."

Frank winced. If Laurence had put his intel in some brick or block and expected Frank to find it, it would be a nightmare. He didn't know Blüdhaven well enough for that, and Laurence wouldn't have made it easy. It wasn't going to be here in this apartment building, not at the precinct, not anywhere that made sense or related to the case. "Don't do this. I don't have time for a scavenger hunt. Neither do you. If this is your last act, make it count, damn it."

"...buster... Roll... land... Des... des..."

"None of that makes sense," Frank hissed at him, though even in his frustration, he knew it wasn't Laurence's fault. The man was dying, after all.

"Red... Horn... Foam... foams... No... Floor... Is..."

Frank frowned, not sure what any of that meant, but he didn't have the chance to ask about as the agent exhaled one last time and stilled, his hand falling off Frank's arm. Laurence was gone. Maybe if they'd had a less antagonistic relationship, Frank could have gotten the information he needed from him, but he hadn't. He didn't know what any of that meant.

The vigilante grabbed his arm. "He's gone. And we need to go. Now."

"Wait. Help me search him. If he had something, anything, we need it before we go," Frank told him, and the man in the mask nodded, quickly setting to work on the other end of Laurence's body. Frank closed the agent's eyes and forced himself to check his pockets.

"Anything on your end?"

Frank glanced at the vigilante before shaking his head, not sure if he trusted him to be telling the truth or not. "No. He's not even carrying a wallet."

A shot cut through the smoke, followed by several more, and they ducked down, the masked man pushing Frank toward the nearest door. "I'd say that's our cue to leave."

"So what brings some kind of world famous girl detective to my front door?" Mrs. Slyleri asked, leaning against the door frame and folding her arms over her chest. She seemed dangerous, and Nancy wondered just how much of the mob connection was her ex-husband's and how much was hers. The file had suggested she left her husband over the death of their son, but that didn't mean that Grazia hadn't been a willing participant before that tragedy.

Nancy could see the value of masks right about now. She would rather have a disguise or a cover story—not that one would have worked with the woman recognizing her from the papers—to try and ask these questions. If Grazia was talking to her ex-husband, she would tell him about this visit, and Joe would be in trouble for sure.

Think, Drew. She had to find a quick solution, a good way to handle it, and maybe Oracle had some kind of contingency plan in place already—if she was as good with technology as she seemed to be, then she could get a warning to Joe or get him out of there as soon as Nancy was finished, which would be a relief, since Nancy knew her attempts to reach Joe weren't going to work. He wasn't answering his own phone, and she had no idea what name he was undercover with or how to reach him with it.

"It's about your ex-husband," Nancy said, watching the other woman's reaction carefully. Maybe they were still bitter, her and her ex, still fighting, which would reduce Joe's risk tenfold, but if Grazia had any kind of sympathy toward him, then it could be that she'd warn him, blowing Joe's cover.

"It always is," Grazia said, shaking her head. "What's he done this time? Did he get drunk again or is this about someone he beat up? Can't imagine why anyone would care. Those ones are always worse than he is, but then again... Right and wrong don't mean much in Blüdhaven, do they?"

Not from what Nancy had heard, no. "Wouldn't you know? Aren't you the first one he contacts when he's in trouble?"

Grazia laughed. "No. Not anymore. Don't know who he picked for that, but it ain't me. Ti scureggia il cervello. He hasn't dared come to me since the divorce. He doesn't call, doesn't write, doesn't show up drunk on my doorstep. Not a word in years."

Nancy eyed the other woman, a sudden suspicion rising in her mind, and as soon as she had it, she was sure of it. "You're lying. You're doing it to protect him. You still love him. He was the father of your son. You had a life together, and that didn't die when your son did. This is—this is how he got you out of Blüdhaven and away from the mob. He let you divorce him and blame everything on him, but this is his way of protecting you."

Grazia's expression darkened. "Well, now, I guess we know why you're a world famous detective, now don't we?"

"So, O, does you know who still have a safehouse established here in Blüdhaven?" Dick asked, landing on the rooftop and letting go of his reluctant passenger. Hardy walked away, taking the flight across the city better than some others had when Dick dragged them along for a ride against their wishes. No puking, no cursing, no terror of heights. He did still look pissed and like he needed time to recover his dignity, but that wasn't too bad all things considered.

"He closed up and sold off the one we both knew about, and while I strongly suspect he wouldn't leave himself without a hiding place in Blüdhaven, I haven't found it yet. He must have buried it in more shell companies than usual," Barbara answered. "I take it that means you have a guest you need a room for?"

"Weston's not going to be able to go into work tomorrow," Dick agreed. He looked over at Hardy again, trying to decide just what to make of him. Professional, yes, but was the lack of reaction to that man's death a good or bad thing? "A corrupt cop attacked him, and someone else died right in front of his apartment. I'm betting he'll be the subject of a city wide manhunt for that one, since they need him silenced about whatever was on that drive."

"Don't say it. Not one word."

"Your place is safe, right?" Dick asked, ignoring her warning. "One of the safest places in the world, and I should know since I'm constantly testing your security for you. Besides, you'd be able to know if Weston is lying about what he found on the drive."

"You know, I can hear what you're saying. You abducting me off the roof after I mistakenly followed you up there didn't make me deaf," Hardy said, and Dick grinned at him. He did like the guy, and honestly, he wished the circumstances were different, so that they were working this case together without the mask. Dick Grayson and the Hardy boys, now that would have been fun. "No one said you had to take me anywhere. I can manage on my own."

"I'm not discounting your ability to fight, as I saw firsthand you're not bad at that, but Bludhaven's corruption goes deep, and you won't find anywhere in this town where you can hide. Not even with one of your fellow cops. Most of them are worse than the scum they're supposed to protect the city from," Dick told him. "At this point, getting you out of the city is the only way of keeping you alive."

"I never once asked for your help," Hardy reminded him. "Thanks anyway, but I'll manage from here. I don't need protection, and I'm not leaving the city."

"Not leaving your brother, you mean," Dick countered, watching Hardy's reaction. "Joe is neck deep in the mob, and I get why you wouldn't want to leave him behind, Frank, but your cover is completely blown and you can't salvage anything. You'll be arrested the instant you're seen, and you won't last in any jail cell. That's the nature of Blüdhaven. That much I think you already know."

"Yes, Grayson, I am well aware of the nature of Blüdhaven," Hardy said, arms folded over his chest and the rest of his body poised for a confrontation. "And since both of us are aware of who the other is, I think we can drop the pretenses and the false names. Or masks, in your case."