Students began to eagerly file out of their classrooms as the last bell of the day rang. Chatter grew and became a low roar in the halls, as Barbara Gordon went to her locker. She kept an eye open for any classmates that she recognized, but today they all seemed to have disappeared somewhere. It was odd; Bruce always met her by her locker at the end of the day. But today, he was nowhere to be seen. She sighed, and grabbed her bags. All she could do was hope he wasn't getting himself into too much trouble. She slammed her door behind her as she took a brisk walk out to the front entrance.

The October air of Gotham City bit her unguarded face as soon as the doors were opened. The chilling winds were warmer than the frozen, unholy phenomena that came in the early mornings; that didn't mean it was actually warm, though.

Nobody in their right mind stayed out here for very long, so there were only a couple scatterings of stragglers hanging out on the front steps. A few daring skateboarders were still attempting tricks in t-shirts and jeans. Barbara shook her head in disgust at them; one of the lunks lost a finger to frostbite last year, it baffled her how they could still be going at it.

One student caught her eye: Arnold was standing by the large sign, a stone-cut logo of Gotham High in the grass about twenty yards from where she stood. The Gordon girl tried not to laugh at his comically oversized yellow parka. The little boy inside was nearly invisible for all the fluff. She gave him a wave as she approached, and he nervously returned the gesture. "So," she asked. "all set to go?"

"Um… I guess." the boy replied, tugging on the straps holding the bag on his back. "W-where are we going, anyway?"

Barbara smiled and gently patted the boy's back, pushing him a bit to get him moving. "Don't worry about that. I know a little Sicilian place up on Greathorn Boulevard; lots of the ritzy kids hang out there after school. I've never been though, so it should be fun!"

They walked down the path to the bus stop, and after a few seconds Barbara picked up that Arthur hadn't responded. She looked to her right, to see him lagging behind by about a step; he seemed more nervous than usual.

"Is everything all right, Arnold?"

He glanced up at Barbara, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Y-you said this was on Greathorn?"

She nodded.

"W-well… isn't that place dangerous? I heard lots of, well, nasty sorts hang out there."

"Only after dark, Arnold." Barbara assured the boy. She tried her best at a maternal smile as he looked at her. "You're new to living in Gotham full-time, but you'll get into the swing quick. Most places are safe so long as you clear out before it gets dark."

Arnold was silent for a moment. "But that's changing… isn't it?"

Barbara chuckled to herself as they came up to the bus stop. There was no miraculous arrival the moment they did, so instead the both of them sat down on the frigid bench to wait. The red-haired girl smiled as she thought about what her new friend had said. "Yeah… I guess it is changing. Crime's taken a big hit ever since Batman showed up. Some neighborhoods have been cleared out entirely."

She looked over at Arnold, who was currently breathing into his hands, and rubbing them for warmth. "I wonder how long that will l-last?"

"What do you mean?"

Before the small boy could reply, the squeak of bus brakes in cold Autumn air caught the attention of them both. Their bus had arrived. They both quickly hopped from their seats and climbed on board, eager to get into some minor warmth that a vehicle could provide.

The pair, led by Barbara naturally, relegated themselves to the back corner of the bus to speak in private. Barbara tossed her bag under the seat, but Arnold clutched onto his as he took the window seat. Barbara squeezed in next to him, and looked at him to hear his explanation.

He hesitated, biting his lip for a moment before saying anything. "W-well, what I mean is, I've been hearing rumors around my home… new people. Bad new people."

"What," Barbara asked, a little confused. "You mean like gangs?"

Arnold nodded. Barbara scratched the side of her head, thinking about this; her father hadn't mentioned anything about new gang activity. Maybe this was all just hearsay. Of course, there was also the possibility that things really were that bad. She wouldn't put it past her father to keep her family from knowing how difficult his job was getting, for their sake. If she was going ot come to a conclusion, she needed to know more.

"Arnold, who's telling you this stuff?"

"Oh, uh… my friend." Arnold said, averting eye contact. "The only real friend I've had since I came to Gotham."

"Oh."'

Barbara felt an awkward chill enter the conversation. She had known he had to have been lonely, but to hear him say it bluntly like that was kind of shocking. "What's your friend like, Arthur?"

That seemed to be the secret password. The boy's face immediately lit up like a neon sign, and he quickly re-established eye contact as he started to gush. "Oh, h-he's awesome! He's cool, a-and slick, and he's really smart too! Everything I'm not, I guess. We do everything together; he's been looking out for me for years. H-he's even helping me out for my talent show act!"

Barbara didn't particularly appreciate Arnold beating himself up like that, but it was good to hear he had someone for emotional support. Of course, she was more distracted by the last thing he said. "You have a talent show act?"

"Yeah!.. Well, sort of. It was mostly his idea. He said, um, that I need to be more forward—progressive, or something. And, that this would help."

"Oh, okay." said Barbara, with a light smile. "Well, you're already better off than me or Bruce. I'm not particularly talented, and Bruce… well, Bruce is in his own little world half the time."

"T-that sounds nice." replied the boy. Barbara was going to question his intent when the bus suddenly screeched to a halt. She looked out the window and realized this was their stop. Grabbing the sleeve of Arnold's parka, she retrieved her bag and pulled him to his feet. The both of them departed the bus, stepping out in front of a modernized restaurant that took up the bottom two floors of a particularly impressive skyscraper. The name Sandoval's was emblazoned on top of a Sicilian flag. The Gordon girl could already see several fellow students heading inside.

"Come on, let's get inside."

The both of them stepped into a luxuriously decorated environment. The entire place was exquisitely colored with deep reds with the occasional green accents. In front of them was a podium with a hostess waiting to greet them, dressed in a halfway point between formal and work clothes. Behind her stretched a full floor of tables, constantly being patrolled by legions of waiters carrying trays to and fro. There was a strip about thirty feet wide down the center of the restaurant where, rather than a low roof, they were gifted with a high-rise ceiling with reflective glass. This was because the restaurant had a second floor. At the back of the enormous room, a staircase stretched back, ascending half the height between floors between splitting into two staircases; one went left, and one went right, to two separate platforms connected by a single walkway in the middle; it served as both the second floor of the restaurant and the roof to most of the first level.

Barbara gave a low whistle as she let the sights sink in, and she could almost feel Arnold shivering a bit. "As fancy as they say, isn't it?"

They stepped forward to the hostess; Barbara recognized her as a neighbor, Blanca, that had graduated Gotham High the same time she passed Freshman year. Blanca did not seem to share the recognition, as she looked at the Gordon girl like any other customer with a plastic smile.

"Good afternoon! Will it just be the two of you today?"

Barbara and Arnold both nodded, and after grabbing the appropriate number of menus and silverware their hostess led them back into the restaurant. They were given a seat near the staircase, just slightly under the platform. From here Barbara could see the stairs weren't solid; there was actually a considerable crawlspace underneath them. Shrugging, she listened as Blanca explained that their waiter would be out to greet them and get their drinks shortly. She left, leaving her and Arnold to remove their coats and take their seats.

The strange blonde boy immediately buried his face in his menu, scanning the entrees with fervor. Barbara gave a few cursory glances at her own, but was more interested in learning more about this boy. She tried to think of a question, when a particularly gripping one came to the forefront of her mind.

"Arnold?"

The boy cautiously lowered his menu a bit, so his eyes were staring over the top of it at her.

"What was it like in Bludhaven?"

"What?.." She could already see the fear that innocent question had put in his eyes. She scrambled to salvage it.

"Well, you chose to come to Gotham perfectly, even though you already had yourself set up there. Why?"

Arnold paused, lowering his menu down to the table. Barbara could now see his face fully, and realized his lip was quivering. His eyes began to leak water as he recounted memories she could only imagine.

"Bludhaven was… awful. There was so much violence, so much hatred an—and yelling. Daily beatings, hateful words, so much plotting and scheming and… I just, I had to get away." He lowered his head entirely, staring straight down at the table. "I couldn't live with it anymore."

Barbara sat in silence, a cold chill picking at her skin as she watched the boy in front of her break down. She could hear a few quiet sobs beneath the din of restaurant chatter. She moved her hand, only to see her vision start to blur. She blinked a few times, to get rid of the tears rapidly welling up. "Arnold…" she trailed off, unsure of what to say. He looked so hurt, so vulnerable.

It was times like these she wished she were more like her father. Dad always knew exactly what to say when things seemed darkest. Barbara took a deep breath, and felt her muscles tighten. She wasn't her father, but she could try to be like him. She reached out and grabbed hold of Arnold's hand; the boy stopped for a second, and looked up at her in confusion.

"Arnold," she began. "I'm sorry. It's awful that that happened; but there's nothing more you can do about the past. The future's still open, though, and I promise that if I can help it, nothing like that will ever happen to you again, ok?"

The boy in the thick glasses hesitated for a minute; now he was unsure how to respond. But finally, he smiled just a little. "D-don't make promises you can't keep… but thanks."

Barbara smiled back at him, already feeling the mood lighten when a cough caught the attention of both teens. They looked over to see a skinny, pale man with spiked black hair and a thin mustache staring at them with somewhat awkward smile. "Uh… I could come back if I'm interrupting?"

A blush as red as fire overtook both Barbara and Arnold as they released their grip on each other and sat up rigidly straight in their seats. "No, no!" Barbara insisted. "We're fine! We're fine!"

The young man laughed, and made a pushing gesture with his hands. "Relax, I was just kidding! Heh, no need to sweat the small stuff; you should see the snogging I have to break up when it gets late around here. My name's Remil Sionis, I'll be your waiter tonight!"

Barbara greeted their waiter, but Arnold did not. Instead, a very visible shift in his newly freshened mood occurred. He looked nervous, like he'd seen a ghost. "S-Sionis?" he asked, chattering.

Remil groaned sarcastically and tapped the side of his head. "Ha, yeah, I know what you're thinking. Roman Sionis, the big bad mafia mogul? He's my uncle… unfortunately. Me, I just serve tables with a smile. So, what can I get you?"

Barbara tried to place her order, when suddenly Arnold grabbed her hand, shaking rapidly. "Arnold, what the heck are you—"

"B-B-Barbara!" he hissed. "We've gotta go! Right now, seriously!"

"What's gotten into you?" Barbara asked, starting to feel very confused and very nervous. "So his name's Sionis, what's the big—"

KRAAKOOOOOOOOOOM

Before Barbara could finish her sentence, the front of the restaurant erupted in a fiery rain of twisted metal and shrapnel. The hostesses near the front were launched to the ground filled with lead, and the patrons immediately bolted straight into panic. Their screams nearly concealed the shouts of a very, VERY angry man as he strode in through the smoke and flames.

"COME OUT, SIONIS!"