We All Have Problems
The air was still, allowing Batman to stand in the shadows, remaining unknown to the person he stared at. At the corner of the roof was Huntress, her purple costume allowing her to blend in somewhat with the shadows as well. She was crouched down, staring at something at street level, though the vigilante had a pretty good idea of what that was.
Silently he approached the woman, his footsteps not making a sound even on the gravel covering the roof. It wasn't long until he was standing behind her and to the left, still looking down on her and the dark-haired woman oblivious to his presence.
It was time to change that.
"Huntress."
With a start, Huntress whipped around, her cape billowing out behind her, a hand clutching at a pouch on her belt. Her eyes were wild, her alarm written on her face coupled with the determination to fend off whatever was behind her.
Batman was rather pleased to see that the purple-clad vigilante had reached for her belt, no doubt for one of her H-shaped shurikens. It was a marked improvement over her crossbow. Curiously, she had been limiting her use of the weapon, opting for less lethal tools. That had been a change he had been keeping an eye on; he wasn't sure what the exact reason was for this change, so an inquiry was necessary.
But that would have to wait for another night.
"Jesus Christ!" Huntress hissed at him as her shoulders slumped, the tension in her body fading away. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"
Batman remained silent, watching the woman calm herself down, her respirations rapid at the moment, but were slowing down. It was only a matter of time for Huntress to demand what he wanted from her.
"Mind telling me why you decided to scare the living hell out of me?"
"To talk," he replied succinctly.
"This better not be another heart-to-heart," she grumbled as she stood up. She was tall for a woman, but she still had to tilt her head up slightly to look him in the eye. With a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him expectantly.
"You haven't been with the Birds in a while," the Dark Knight said. "Considering you helped found them, I found it curious as to your sudden departure."
"We had differences," Huntress responded, turning away from him, and incidentally returning her attention back to the street. "We all felt it was in the best interest of the Birds that I leave."
Batman took a step closer to the ledge and looked over it. Across the street from them was an alleyway, a group of five...no, six men were gathered. Considering their clothing and the equipment with them, it looked as if they were preparing for a robbery, one that Huntress was intending on stopping.
Well, it was going to be stopped, but not by her. She was needed with him at the moment.
"Mind telling me what those differences were?" he prodded.
"No, not really," she said flippantly. "I'm a little busy at the moment. Unless you'd like to help, you can go away now."
"I wouldn't worry about those men. They've been taken care of."
That caused Huntress to jerk her head around to stare at him. "What are you talking about?"
The dark-clad vigilante just nodded his head towards the men. "Just watch."
Almost if by providence, a dark shadow dropped from the sky and landed in the middle of the group of men. They all jumped, startled by the sudden appearance, which turned out to be their first and last mistake.
There was a flurry of movement as the dark figure leaped into the air and lashed out with a fist and a kick, two of the six men having their heads snapped back before they went flying off their feet and through the air. Another man's head snapped to a side as the heel of a boot collided with his cheek.
Dropping back down to the ground, the figure darted towards another man, who was pulling out a gun. He never got the chance to use it as the figure latched a hand onto his wrist and forced his arm to a side, and subsequently his gun. A shot rang out as a bullet was blasted into the pavement.
Pressing their other hand against the gunman's chest, the figure forced him up against the wall behind him. Jumping up, the figure coiled their legs up against their body before kicking them out, both of their feet slamming into a nearby man's face and knocking him off of his feet.
As the man crashed down onto the ground, Huntress stared in fascination. "Who the hell is that?" she asked softly.
"She goes by the name Batgirl," Batman responded, watching his protégé deal with the man she had forced against the wall. "As you can see, she's quite good."
"Good? Good?!" Huntress whipped around to stare at him in disbelief. "She's a one woman wrecking ball is what she is! I blinked and she had four of those guys down. Where did you even find her?!"
She paused for a moment. "And since when did you start taking in help?" she pressed, her tone angered.
"She doesn't have many options. For her sake, I won't divulge any identifying information, but she was trained to be the best fighter ever. She's pretty close to that."
There was a silence as Huntress returned to watch the remainder of the fight, which was simply the last man collapsing to the ground. Batgirl was standing on one foot, her other leg extended out as straight as an arrow. There was no telling where she had landed the kick, only that it had been sufficient to defeat her foe. As far as Batman could tell, no lethal moves had been used, so he was pleased by the fight. Batgirl would be making her way to this rooftop any moment now.
"You know, I could've sworn there was a Batgirl with that Batclan group," Huntress finally said after a while. "Is that the same girl? I mean, her uniform is different and I don't see any red hair."
"This is someone different," he confirmed. That was all he was intending on saying about Batgirl, especially since they had gotten off the topic he truly wanted to discuss. "Now that they're dealt with, I'll ask again: why did you leave the Birds?"
There was a sagging of her shoulders before the purple-clad vigilante turned to fully face him again. "Since you want to know so badly, you remember that tension that was building up in the group? I know you know since you mentioned as much to Black Canary."
Receiving a nod from him, the dark-haired woman continued, "A lot of it stems from a disagreement we had. Canary and Katana thought I was a loose cannon and I was getting tired of them always watching over me in a fight. It was getting to the point where we weren't going into a fight to save people—the Talon Attacks, in case you were wondering. After that, I felt it was in the best interest of the Birds that I leave so that they could continue."
There was more to this story than she was telling him, that much Batman knew. He could get it out of her too if he wanted, but there was an underlying issue at hand. Out of all of the other vigilantes in the city, Huntress was the most experienced and could handle herself solo. Yet, she was definitely safer in a group. During their first encounters, the Birds of Prey had a solid chemistry together, able to cover up each other's' weaknesses and bring out their strengths.
Ultimately, trust with each other was the most important aspect of their teamwork. They had lost it at some point and let their distrust nearly tear the group apart. That needed to be rectified.
"What have you been able to accomplish on your own?" the dark-clad vigilante asked then.
"Stopped a few robberies, attempted rapes, and such," she answered. "Not as much as I did with the Birds, of course, but I'm just now getting back into the swing of being independent."
"Working your way back to the Mob?'
She snorted. "What Mob? There's, what, two more families left? Thorne is basically all that's left of organized crime and you know it."
That much was true and Thorne would be getting the Dark Knight's full attention soon. However, there was still some cleanup to be done and perhaps it would be best if Huntress came along for that ride. "Tonight is Batgirl's first night," he said. "It'd be appreciated if I had a second pair of eyes on her."
Huntress gave him an incredulous look. "And you want me to watch her? Why, is she too much for you?"
"This is a trial run for her. She's come a long way since I found her, but certain instincts need to be repressed. I can't trust her with the protection of this city if I know she'll be inclined to fall back into deadly habits."
There was a flinch in the dark-haired woman's posture, but that was the only give that his words had affected her. Hmmm, that bore some reflection.
That was when Batgirl made her appearance, darting up over the edge of the roof and landing quietly behind the Dark Knight. The dark-clad man only tilted his head to a side so he could eye her out of the corner of his eye, the only indication of his acknowledgement of her. Huntress visibly focused on her before returning her attention to him. "So you want me to...help you?"
"Something like that."
Head turning from Batman to Batgirl and back, she seemed to be considering the offer before she made a decision. "I think I can do that."
The doorknob rattled incessantly, constantly jiggling in place until the lock slowly, but surely, flipped. The knob stopped for half a moment before it was twisted and the door swung open.
Poking her head in, Black Canary scanned the room for any signs of life—namely security—seeing none. Who would have thought entering this place would've been as easy as slipping in through the back door?
Slipping in, Katana and Manhunter followed her in, each one splitting up as they moved to various parts of the office room. There were desks at various places, office supplies such as computers, staplers, lamps, and so on on top of them. There were no walls, not even the makeshift ones that formed cubicles. There were, however, security cameras, but if Manhunter had done her stuff, they were currently not in operation.
Stopping at one of the desks, Black Canary began opening drawers and rifling through them. According to the new Bird, Anderson Accounting was a front for Thorne's money laundering, and a unique one at that. As an accounting firm, its books were open for the public to look, or at the very least the SEC. That meant if there was any illegal activity here, the books provided for inspection were not the true accounting logs. There was a second one here and the Birds of Prey were going to find it.
Finishing her search of the current desk, the blonde woman moved over to the next one and began doing the same thing. She ignored the pictures of family, the smiling faces of kids boring into her, silently asking what she was doing. Normally Black Canary wasn't bothered by that stuff, but right now she had an urgent feeling in her stomach that was demanding she find what she came here for and get out fast. For some reason it felt like she was stealing something rather than searching for evidence. That left a rather sour taste in her mouth.
Glancing up, the vigilante saw Manhunter was finishing up the desk she was currently working on, her ponytail swishing over a shoulder as she looked to a nearby wall. Katana was in another part of the room, and despite the red and yellow of her costume, she seemed to disappear from sight more so than Canary's black outfit. There was something odd about that realization.
Neither of them spoke. Even though the cameras weren't working, that didn't eliminate the possibility of roaming patrolmen, which they were certain were around. This was a Mob-owned business after all; no way would it be left unprotected.
Over and over, Black Canary checked the desks and received the same result as the first. Slowly she was starting to think that perhaps this second accounting book wasn't going to be something found in a desk drawer. She knew if she were fudging recorders, no way would she keep it in such an accessible place. So that left some place hidden.
So what could that be? Some place hidden in the roof? A safe behind one of the large pictures hanging on the wall? No, it couldn't be something that cliché.
"I think I found something," Manhunter suddenly spoke, her tone low. Turning to look at her comrade, Black Canary found the other woman facing a wall, a picture frame extended out and revealing a safe embedded in the wall. There was a dial on the left side of the metal face, with a handle and keyhole on the right. Ugh, so much for not being cliché.
Walking over to Manhunter, the blonde woman made to stand right in front of the safe. Safe cracking wasn't one of her talents—neither was it one of the others. Yet, she had a trick that helped them get into this place and it would help them now.
Pursing her lips, she began blowing a thin stream of air, her Canary Cry making a high-pitched, sharp sound, creating a vibrating airstream, one that she directed right into the keyhole. While most would think it strange that a safe would have a dial lock and a keyhole, it wasn't that unusual. In case there was an emergency and no one had the code for the dial lock, a key could be used as a last resort.
And with her focused Canary Cry, the blonde woman was currently shaking the inner mechanisms of the lock, making adjustments until there was an audible click and the door cracked opened. Stopping the Cry, Black Canary grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, revealing a bunch of ledgers and folders within.
Immediately, Manhunter reached in and grabbed the small stack, pulling it out. Moving to a nearby desk, she set the stack down and opened the top ledger, flipping through the pages until she found something that caught her attention. "We got what we needed," she said with a small smile growing on her face.
Great, terrific, time to go now. Seeing Manhunter scooping up the entire stack and not making a move to place any back in the safe, Canary shut the safe door and swung the picture back into place over it. No need to announce to the morning shift they had been robbed the moment they entered the—
Suddenly, a door on the other side of the room swung open, two men in security guard uniforms stepping in only to stop the moment they caught sight of the women. Canary only had a second to stare at the two men before their guns were ripped out of their holsters and pointed right at her and Manhunter. "Stay where you are," one of them demanded, both men began to edge their way to the two women. "You will do as we say or we will shoot you."
"At least these guys warn you," Manhunter grumbled, keeping still. Black Canary merely glanced at the other woman, but held her ground. If these guys were going to do what she thought they were, then this situation would resolve itself momentarily.
"Both of you, hands above your heads," the guard ordered them. The black-clad woman would've frowned at those words, but she kept her face still. Even as she began to raise her hands up, she forced herself not to look for her third teammate, who had somehow not been spotted.
Without warning, both men suddenly flinched, their faces twisting with pain before they collapsed to the floor. Standing behind them was Katana, one hand raised, fingers pressed together with the thumb curled into the palm. It didn't take much to figure that the Asian woman had delivered swift chops to the back of the guard's necks, rendering them unconscious.
"Nicely done," Manhunter complemented Katana. She then began striding towards the back door. "Now let's—"
Suddenly, a steel door slid shut in front of the open back door. The same happened with the door the guards had entered. Spinning around, Black Canary watched as each possible exit, be it door or window, were sealed shut. "Damn Deja vu," she muttered.
Then, as if to make matters worse, a hissing sound started, causing the three women to look up. From the air conditioning vents, an opaque, green gas was flowing out. There was no telling what that gas was, but it most certainly wasn't good for them.
"Oh, come on!" Manhunter groaned loudly. "Since when did Thorne have this in place! That wasn't on the schematics."
"It rarely is," Katana responded as she calmly walked over to Black Canary.
"Think you can cut through those doors?" the blonde asked. It wasn't often, but the Asian woman had shown she had the ability to cut through solid steel with her enchanted sword. Of course, that steel was usually the size of a gun barrel or pipe.
Katana shook her head. "No."
"I could use some of my plastique," Manhunter offered, earning herself the attention of the room. "It might take too long for me to set it up though, what with that gas coming in."
Not to mention noisy as hell, Canary added in her head. Then again, any possible way they had to get out of here was probably going to make some noise. It was just a matter of if they wanted to blow something up now or later.
A glance to the invasive gas made the decision for them.
"Cover your ears," Black Canary declared, causing Katana to immediately clamp her hands over her ears, Manhunter giving them both an odd look before she did the same. Moving towards a wall well away from any windows or doorways, the blonde sucked in as much air as she could before she began to scream.
As her Canary Cry rang out, the sheetrock she faced immediately cratered from the force, a spider's web of cracks branching out all over the wall. Keeping it up, it wasn't long before the crater blew apart, sending debris flying out into an alleyway.
Stopping the cry, Black Canary took a deep breath and relaxed. It was several moments before she heard Manhunter say, "I had no idea that you could do that."
"I've had to destroy a wall or two on occasion," the blonde shrugged before she walked into the alley. "I think we've overstayed our welcome, ladies. Time to jet."
It was almost nostalgic that the three of them were in the same place once again. If you took out the fact that only two of them were suited up and the third was in a wheelchair. It still had been some time since the founding members of the Batclan were together, discussing their next moves and whatnot.
While it was not lost on Robin, he had more pressing concerns. Other things that were distracting him. Trying to work it, physically, out of his system hadn't done much. That would explain why he wasn't paying too close attention to what Barbara was saying.
"So I've looked into diamond smuggling and found out a lot of things I never knew," the wheelchair bound woman was saying. "Apparently, the majority of all diamond mining and exploration is all done by one company, the De Beers Group. I say majority, when I actually mean they are damn near a monopoly. In Gotham, at least, every jewelry store, any place that has diamonds in it, they all get their supply from De Beers."
Nightwing whistled from where he stood, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "How much do they rake in?"
"Billions. What do you think. Anyway, back in 2000, the Kimberley Process Certification System was created in an attempt to get conflict diamonds off the market. Conflict diamonds are used to fund wars, usually those in Africa. That's why they are sometimes called blood diamonds," Barbara continued.
"Like that movie," Nightwing suggested.
"Yeah, like that movie," Barbara deadpanned. "So, assuming that those diamonds you found are conflict diamonds, it sounds like Thorne is planning on funding a war over in central or western Africa."
"But what does he get out of that?" Nightwing asked aloud, a rhetorical question to be sure if Robin had been paying attention.
"Well, either that or he wants to get some quick cash out of Gotham by flooding the market with cheaper diamonds, perhaps weaseling his way into the jewelry business. It is a multi-billion dollar industry. Until you can find out more, all I've given you are theories." Barbara shrugged.
"Okay, so we're about to cost a mob boss a lot of cash and get him really pissed off at us," Nightwing summed up. Then, with a smirk, added, "If he can figure out it was us who did it."
"I don't think it will be that simple; you need to prove that those diamonds are conflict diamonds. If you can't, it could be played off as one man not trusting banks enough to keep his diamonds in them," Barbara pointed out.
"Good point. What do you think, Ti—I mean, Robin?" Nightwing turned to him and it took a moment for the costumed teen to realize that he had been spoken to. Worse, he had no idea what it was that he was being asked about.
"Sorry," he grumbled. "I wasn't listening. Could you go over it again?"
He got a blank look from the older vigilante while their handicapped friend was giving him an odd look. Okay, that was definitely not a good sign. For him, at least.
"Don't get lost in the clouds there, bird boy. We need you down on earth," the older male quipped. "We were just thinking of how to prove those diamonds Thorne is bringing in are illegal. Any thoughts?"
"Well…" the youngest of the three of them trailed off, wracking his brain to come up with something and not lose some respect in the process. "...we do know where they're keeping them. How about we figure out where they're getting them. Try to trace back where they're picking up the diamonds in the first place."
"Not bad. How do you propose we do that?" Nightwing asked, pressing him for details that he hadn't thought of yet. Come on, Dick. Give him a break already!
Robin bit his lip, trying to come up with something, anything, and to do it, like, right now. Sad to say, for once, he had nothing.
"This might be a lot coming from me, but you're awfully quiet," Barbara spoke up. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were...distracted."
"Robin's been having a tough time lately," Nightwing answered for him.
"A tough time?" Now Robin was wincing because the way Barbara said those words were almost biting. She was emphasizing each word, saying them slowly. "Really. You don't say."
For a second, Robin felt pissed. Where did she come off, sounding like that. She had no idea what he was going through right now, what his family was going through right now. It wasn't like she had lost—oh wait. He had forgotten about her paralysis. That her family was also having to adjust to her handicap. That it was going through a lot too.
He knew this, knew this as fact. Yet, it did not change what he felt, and what he felt right now was anger and a lot of it.
Because here she was, sitting around this place all day and night, moping. Yeah, she had lost her ability to walk, but it wasn't like she had lost a family member. It wasn't like she was watching his parents crumble apart and trying oh so hard to keep it together. No, it was this whole "oh, woe is me" bullshit.
It had been weeks since that last time he had spoken with her, and about the same amount of time he had seen her. Barbara made no effort to keep in contact or anything. At first, he was willing to give her space, but right now, he was not in the mood for this.
"I have better things to do than do your Google searches, Tim," Barbara snapped at him, and to add some insult to injury, she used his actual name.
"Oh yeah? Like what?" he challenged, glaring at him.
"Guys," Nightwing said warningly.
"I don't have to take anything from you, Tim. I certainly don't have to take this," Barbara retorted hotly. "I didn't have to spend hours researching the diamond trade and smuggling and all the Godawful things happening in Africa for you to give me attitude."
"Look who's giving who an attitude now!" he shot back. "You know what you sound like? You sound like you're the only person who's suffering right now. It's bad what happened to you, but instead of doing something about it, you sit around this place all day long like the world is over."
"What the hell am I supposed to do, figure out a cure for paraplegia? Like I have any medical training," the paraplegic woman retorted.
"Go on, tell me how you really feel," the masked teen taunted. "That can't be all it. Why don't you go out and get some medical training? Huh?"
"Okay, that's enough," Nightwing cut in, getting in between the two of them. "You both need to lay off each other and cool down. We're a team here, remember? We're supposed to be working together, not trying to tear each other apart."
"She's the one that started it!" Robin exclaimed, gesturing towards the only woman in the room.
"And I'm ending it," Nightwing growled at him. Whoa, where did that come from. "You're both acting like kids."
Robin narrowed his eyes and he could have sworn he heard Barbara mutter something, and he had a pretty good idea of what it was.
Before he could say anything, though, Nightwing took command of the room. "Before anybody does anything they'll regret, let me say something. Robin, I'm gonna tell her what's going on and get it all out there. Barbara, I want you to listen for a bit and when I'm done, if you both still feel like it, you can go at each other. Alright?"
Robin rolled his eyes and looked away. It wasn't like he cared what Nightwing told her.
"Okay. Barbara. Robin just found out an aunt of his was murdered, and it was in Gotham. His parents aren't taking it well and you know how close he is to them," Nightwing explained in a much calmer voice. "I've been with him most of the day and trust me, this is him at his calmest."
There was silence coming from Barbara, not that he expected any kind of apology coming from her. So, instead, he decided to be the one to break it.
"I want to find him. I want to find the bastard that killed my aunt," he stated into the quiet room.
His declaration silenced the room once more. He could feel the stares from the other two, but Tim—no, Robin—was resolute about this. He had the abilities, he had the know-how, it was time for him to put it to use in catching the man who murdered Aunt Kathleen.
It wasn't going to be easy, he knew that. But he couldn't, no, wouldn't let whoever was responsible get away with this.
"Are you sure about this Tim?" Barbara asked, her voice soft. Had he looked, he would have seen her gripping the armrests of her wheelchair tightly. He didn't, though, and didn't see it. "Remember the last time we tried to solve a murder? You don't know what you'll find."
"There's not going to be some hidden conspiracy or anything. There's only a son of a bitch who I'm going to punch the shit out of then send to prison," the teen growled. "Either you guys are going to help me, or I'll do it solo."
"Tim, you know we need you, but we can't let you do this by yourself," Nightwing argued. "Remember why we came together? So that we could watch each other's backs while we did our best to make this city a better place. Right now, we're in the middle of taking down some diamond smuggling operation and I need you by my side when it all goes down. I need you to watch my back."
"This is important to me, Dick!" He spun around on his booted heel, glaring at the older vigilante. "If what you say is true, then I need you to watch my back while I find that murderer."
"Why don't you trust the police to do their jobs and find the killer?" Again, it was Barbara with that soft tone of voice again.
"Because I want to be sure they find him, even if I have to hold them by the hand and lead them there," the teen vigilante retorted heatedly. "My parents need this. My aunt deserves justice."
"How about you go home for the night, Tim? Support your parents, and give some thought about this," Nightwing suggested. "A lot's happened and you need a clearer head before you go down this road. Your folks are going to need you. Then, we'll meet back here tomorrow, and then we'll decide on what we need to do. Okay?"
Robin clenched his fists, wanting for the first time to deck Nightwing in the face. Was he trying to treat him like…like a kid or something? He knew what needed to be done. What he needed to do. And every day, no minute that passed, the less likely his aunt's killer would be found. He couldn't let that happen.
He just couldn't!
But from the look Nightwing was giving him, it looked like he was going to have little choice in the matter. Looks like his suggestion was more an order than anything. Damn it, didn't he understand? Why was he being such a dick right now!
"Fine," he grumbled, knowing that he didn't have any choice. Because if he fought, he would probably have his ass handed to him and then he would have to explain any bruising he got to his folks and that would be so much fun to do.
While he raged against the injustice of it, his emotions warring against the thought, his more intellectual side won this argument.
He would get his chance soon enough.
Even if he had to leave the Batclan itself to do it.
Kirk sat on his psychiatrist's couch, hands clenched together and placed between his spread out legs. Though his head was bowed, his eyes were peering upwards at the sight of the man seated across from him.
It was a very spontaneous and unscheduled session, but man was he glad he could speak with Dr. Eris about this. About his father's ultimatum and all about his work and why his father was interested in it. He spilled so much out in this session.
Never had he been so thankful to hear "Sure, come on in, Kirk. Tell me all about what's bothering you." This man was a godsend, he swore.
"So your father, the man who has expressed nothing but disapproval your whole life, who has demeaned you and shown nothing but disappointment and disdain, is showing interest in you," Dr. Erie summed up. "And not of the negative variety. In comparison, it is quite positive. In such a situation, it would be normal to be cautious."
"I know why he's suddenly interested. I bet he's paid someone off in my staff. It's the only way I know that he's aware of where my research is," the beleaguered scientist admitted.
"Yes, the solution to your…primary problem," Dr. Erie remarked. "And you took inspiration from bats, of all creatures. If it works, why, the fame and fortune that would follow…"
"Only people like my father are interested in that. I just want…I want to be able to hear again. Without this damn aid," Kirk spat out. "It was bad this morning, doctor. I don't know how much longer I have left until I lose what I have left. This needs to work. It has to. Then…then I can share it with the world. Make it better."
"And in the process, become a greater success than your father," Dr. Erie pointed out.
Kirk frowned. "What makes you say that?"
Intertwining his fingers together, the shrink replied, "Think about it, Kirk. How many businessmen, CEOs, and the like do you know throughout history? Probably only a handful, but of those handful, all of them changed how our world operates. Your father is not one of those men. How has he changed the world? How many new drugs has he produced? Probably too many to name, but can you tell me how many cures he's developed? None.
"You, on the other hand, you are about to do the one thing he hasn't. You will be the one who goes down in history. Your name will be the one the world remembers. Kirk Langstrom, the man who discovered a cure for deafness, and not Abraham Langstrom, run-of-the-mill business CEO. He will be forgotten, lost to time. As are all those who find their fortune and enrich their families for generations.
"From what you have told me about your father, I detect that he may be jealous of you. He wants to be the one lauded, to be admired, adored. Yes, he presents that stoic, no-nonsense persona of his, but he has always desired recognition. Not you, though. You, Kirk, you only want to help others. It is a quality of yours, a trait, that a man like Abraham can't grasp.
"Those who are altruistic are revered. Those who stand up for a cause are honored. Those who change the world are remembered. That is where you stand, Kirk. It is the one place your father wants to be, and for once, you are beating him to it. He's scared, Kirk. He's scared of your potential, and only too late in the game has he realized what he has let slipped from his grasp. Tell me, do find anything wrong with Wayne Enterprises? Something, anything, that would make Patriarch Biopharmaceuticals a better option?"
"Well…there is Mr. March," Kirk admitted. "He's been supportive since I arrived there. He…he's believed in me. And there's Francine. She's the one that got me the job in the first place."
"Because she was already there and knew the environment at Wayne Enterprises' Pharmaceutical division would be better than what Patriarch was offering," Dr. Erie said.
"Yes. Because she was the first to believe in me. To believe in my work. To want to help me make it reality." His shoulders sagged as he thought about everything Francine had done for him. Really, she was an angel for him.
"You do have support, Kirk. People who will stand up for you, even against a man of your father's stature," the shrink remarked.
It was a remark that had the opposite effect of what it was intended to do. Immediately, the memories of what his father had done to those who opposed him, or worse, told him no, flashed through his mind.
"He wants the formula, doctor. He'll do anything to get it. I'm just a means to an end for him," he stated, his mood falling.
"If that is so, why has he not taken other action to get his hands on your work?" Dr. Erie questioned. "Could it be that even if he did, he would be unable to replicate the same results that you have found? This is your brainchild; no one else in the world understands it better than you. Perhaps he needs you more than you believe."
"Dr. Erie, you do know how he managed to build up Patriarch to rival Wayne?" Kirk asked, not expecting an answer. "When Elliot Pharmaceuticals fell apart, he snatched up everything he could, especially the distribution lines. Once he had access to new markets, he became almost unstoppable. You don't know how many people he ruined and trampled over to do it. He would brag about each one he grabbed whenever we had to get together. Like he was telling me how much better he was to me. That I could never compare."
Dr. Erie seemed to stare at him, though it was difficult to tell due to the glare of light on his glasses. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I am getting the sense that you believe your father will get his hands on your work."
"Yes," Kirk answered softly.
"Hmm. There's more to it. Something I missed. It's more than him getting your work. What is it, Kirk. What is it that terrifies you so?"
"I'm afraid," he nearly whimpered. "I'm afraid he'll find out that it doesn't work, that he went through all this effort for nothing and then…"
"Judge you for it," Dr. Erie finished for him. "That it would be confirmation of everything he's ever thought about you. His opinion of you, even now, is important to you. It is as important as curing your hearing loss."
Kirk said nothing to that, his silence being his answer. It was like how the psychiatrist put it. There was no other way to put it.
"Tell me, what stage of research are you in, Kirk?" was the first question asked.
Almost robotically, he answered, "Animal testing. Our hearing impaired rats have received the formula and now we're waiting to see what will happen."
"Are you afraid that what results you find will come after the deadline your father has set?"
"Yes."
"So there is no time to waste, I assume."
Kirk combed his fingers through his hair, despair overwhelming him.
"I...wouldn't normally say this, but you would not be the first man of science to use himself as a test subject."
It took a moment for those words to register, but when they did, the miserable scientist jerked his head up, wincing immediately as his fingers pulled hair from his scalp by accident.
"Wh-what? What was that?!" he exclaimed, doubting that he had heard what he thought the shrink had said.
"Forgive me for saying that, Kirk. Forget I said anything," Dr. Erie said quickly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"No, please, repeat what you said," Kirk demanded for once in his life.
"No, Kirk. Just drop it. It's—"
"You did say I should try it out on myself first, didn't you?" Kirk was not willing to drop this. Something about those words resonated within him and he wanted to hear more.
No. He needed to hear more.
Dr. Erie sighed, giving in. "Many scientists in the past have used themselves as test subjects to test their theories. Jonas Salk, Humphrey Davy, Pierre and Marie Curie, Albert Hofmann, to name a few. Unbelievable discoveries have been made by such individuals, and they changed the world for the better."
"Didn't Hofmann discover lysergic acid diethylamide?" Kirk asked, frowning.
"You always pick up the most interesting facts in your pharmacology classes," Dr. Erie excused. "However, there is always a danger with doing such a thing. You never quite know what you are putting into your system or how it will ultimately affect you. If that is the path you wish to choose, do it carefully."
The psychiatrist paused for a moment, as if a thought had occurred to him. "Then again, unless you want to know immediately, there's no other choice than volunteering yourself. You know, just forget that I mentioned any of this."
"Sure," Kirk said slowly, but the idea had been planted in his head already. "Thank you for taking the time to listen to me, doctor. You've…given me a lot to think about."
"That is my job, Kirk," Dr. Erie replied. "It is what I am here for, after all."
