Authors' Note: We couldn't resist posting the chapter wherein our principle characters finally meet as soon as it was ready. Enjoy!
Sparring again, and the last couple weeks of practice showed as Kala fluidly blocked Tim's staff. She'd taken up the escrima sticks that Dick and Babs both favored, and she'd been learning from both of them. Patrolling with Helena and Dinah almost every night, too. Despite the lack of sunlight that made her feel sluggish, her reaction time was still good enough to make sparring interesting.
Tim whirled the staff, feinted at her head, then reversed his grip and tried to sweep her feet. He was really damn good with that weapon, and Kala no longer grimaced when he got in a strike. She evaded it this time, jumping over the staff, her eyes alight. She struck out at his head, knowing he'd avoid the blow, grinning as she danced back.
Kala felt the shift in the air, and ducked, rolling away from Dick. "Ganging up on me again?" she laughed, and set out to deal with them both. No powers, no need for them, even if Dick caught her across the shoulders with his own sticks.
Her reaction to that was still to swear, but that was just how she dealt with pain. It wasn't personal at all. The boys hit each other just as hard, when they were sparring. Kala dodged them both, getting in hits of her own, feeling sweat slide down her spine. This was one hell of a workout for all of them, no more of that half-tempo stuff, and she was grateful over and over again for the dance training that gave her such precise command of her own body. Every muscle responded exactly as she needed it to.
"Enough," Bruce said, and all three of them stopped, weapons lowered as they panted for breath. He looked at them thoughtfully, and finally said, "Kala, you've made a lot of progress."
"Thank you, Uncle Bruce," she said, smiling.
His expression changed ever so slightly, but she was learning to read it. Uncle Bruce's eyes were friendly, but the Bat's were calculating. It was Batman who spoke now, his voice low and serious. "Your work with the Birds of Prey has also been satisfactory. It's time. We're going to break into Black Mask's current drug-running operation two nights from now. I can use your talents there."
The hair stood up at the nape of her neck as a cold chill ran down her back, every muscle loosened by exertion tensing up again. Straight from kiddie patrol with the Birds to going after one of Batman's rogues? As eager as she was to do something of consequence in this town, that spooked her a little.
But if Batman said she was ready, then she was. And he wouldn't be sending her alone. She nodded solemnly. "All right. Just tell me what you need me to do."
He nodded approvingly, the warmth coming back into his expression. "Your reaction proves me right," he said, glancing at Dick. "When you first came to Gotham, you wanted a chance to fight the rogues. Now you know enough to be intimidated – but not for long. We won't be dealing with Mask himself, though. Just a few of his underlings. There are aspects of this operation that don't mesh with anything Mask has done before, so I want a closer look."
Dick sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Finally. I don't like this whole situation, but yeah, even I have to admit Kala's gonna be okay out there. Especially with all of us backing her. How are you planning to play this?"
Bruce – and it was definitely Bruce, not the Bat – smiled. "Kala's a celebrity. Let's let her have the spotlight for a moment. They'll be so busy dealing with a new and relatively unknown cape, they won't even notice us."
At that thought, Kala grinned fiercely. "I never thought being a showoff would become a tactical asset," she laughed.
"That's why you need a master strategist planning things," Bruce replied gravely, and they all fell to plotting their next move.
…
Big Tommy was sitting in the living room when Julio came in, and all he said to the leader was, "Need to talk to everybody." But just those five words put the boy's hackles up, because they sounded nothing like Big Tommy. Much too clear, much too serious, and the look in his pale blue eyes had lost its affable fogginess.
"You a fuckin' cop?" Julio asked, backing toward the door. The rest of the kids were already there, none of them having seen the change until the man spoke up, and they were alert enough to edge toward their own exits.
The man who'd pretended to be Big Tommy rolled his eyes. "Hell no. There's some decent cops in Gotham, but none of 'em are dedicated enough at undercover to eat food out of the freakin' dumpster. Chill. I'm not a cop, I'm not a gangster, I'm not a pimp. But I've got to leave you guys, and I need to make sure you're safe when I go."
"I'm not goin' in fuckin' foster care again," one of the boys muttered, he thought it was Lenny, and Carl just glared in furious betrayal.
"Come on, I spent a month and a half buying liquor for the bunch of you, I'm not sending you to foster care either," Tommy said, rolling his eyes. "Jesus. Sit down, chill out. You can stay here; I bought the building. I'm not turning the power on 'cause that'll be obvious to anyone outside, and they'll try to take the place. But you'll have running water tomorrow."
"You bought the building?" Julio asked, intrigued in spite of himself.
Tommy scoffed. "You gotta stay somewhere. And you all need to lay low for awhile, 'cause I found out who's been grabbing kids off the street, and it's fuckin' Black Mask. Now I gotta go deal with that asshole, and I don't want any of you getting caught up in it."
Silence reigned, as all the kids looked at each other. Finally, Carl spoke, her voice timid. "You're not a cop, but you're going after Black Mask. Are you … are you Batman?"
"Fuck no!" Tommy spat, but he was laughing. "Abso-fucking-lutely not. Jesus fuck, do you even know anything about the Bat? He'd never fucking tell you he was leaving, he'd just be gone. And you'd have social services in here about three seconds later trying to save you all." The sneer on his lips showed exactly what he thought of that asinine plan, and the kids relaxed slightly.
"Then who are you?" Julio asked. "'Cause you're somebody. Normal people don't just go 'deal with' Black Mask. Who're you, Red Robin? Nightwing?"
Tommy snorted. "Shit, I've got fifty pounds and six inches on the little birdie. Almost that on Nightwing. No, I'm not somebody you've seen running rooftops in spandex. Quit it. The less you know, the safer you are."
He stood up, shrugging his shoulders. "Stay here for a while, and lay low, okay? I'm not tryin' to recruit you or anything. Taking a whole damn pack of sidekicks isn't my style, and you've all got your own shit to deal with. But it'd be pretty shitty of me to just walk out and leave when I know damn well that Mask's people are hunting kids. It'll be easier to do my job if you guys are halfway safe."
"Why do you care?" Lenny asked, chin jutting out. "You just needed us to get info, right? That's why you were here."
He looked at all of them. "I came down here to find out what was happening to the missing kids. You guys helped me do that. I'm not that much of an asshole, not to try and help you back."
A sigh, and he added, "Also because, same reason I care about the missing kids in the first place. I was one of you guys. You think the Bat's crew knows how to live on the street? They don't. None of them come from down here. I do. I've been where you are. And the world gives you enough shit, you don't need some fucker like Black Mask kidnapping you on top of it."
The ferocity in his eyes burned hot and clean; no, this wasn't Batman, but Julio knew he had to be somebody that turned up in the news regularly. Very few people talked confidently about going toe-to-toe with Black Mask, or any of the masked crazies in Gotham. This guy whose name wasn't Tommy was way too ready for that fight.
And he was still talking. "I'm not putting you on house arrest or any dumb shit like that. But you're safer staying in, staying quiet, and staying together. So, here's this. Julio, you're in charge of making sure it gets spent on food, okay? And clothes, and like soap and stuff." With that, he picked up the worn backpack at his feet and tossed it to Julio.
Inside was money – banded packs of fives and tens. Enough money for all of them to eat, and eat well, for two weeks. Plus changes of clothes that for once wouldn't have to be stolen out of a charity drop bin. Julio weighed it, then looked up at the man who wasn't Tommy nervously. "This legit?"
"It ain't counterfeit," he replied. "And it ain't stolen, either. Be careful – you know what'll happen if people think you have money."
"How long do we have to lay low?" one of the others asked.
"'Til Black Mask is out of commission," he replied. "Don't worry, I'll let you know when it's safe. If it takes longer than a couple weeks I'll drop off more cash. You just – be careful."
Julio looked at him long and carefully. He had an idea who Tommy really was, but the man in front of him was clearly conflicted and didn't like the idea of leaving them all alone. He figured the concern was real.
But they were all survivors. If he'd come from the streets like he said, he knew that. And at least he had the sense not to try and save any of them. They'd hate him for it if he did. More importantly, they'd run if he tried, and more than likely run right into Mask's crew.
With one last look, the man turned to go. Julio followed him to the entryway, where he stopped, looking at Julio with one dark brow raised. "This isn't the first time you've gone against Black Mask," he said, so quietly the other kids couldn't here.
But Carl was behind him, and she added just as softly, "Not in spandex, but I think we've seen you running rooftops before. More like … motorcycle jacket?"
He couldn't help smiling for one quick second, before locking that down into a scowl. And yeah, Julio's guess was right, they'd had fucking Red Hood living in their flophouse for a fucking month. Jesus H. Christ. Probably the most dangerous guy in town. The whole city knew about him killing a shitload of drug dealers, last time he was in the news. Wiley was lucky the guy hadn't just snapped him in half.
And – Julio knew that Carl had been sleeping beside him, but sleep was all that went on between them. Who'd've figured Red Hood was a white knight?
"The less you know, the safer you are," he repeated, and looked at Carl in particular. "I'm not somebody you want to hang around, okay? People get killed around me. Sometimes it's not even my fault, but that's the way it is. You want good guys who're safe to hang around, you want heroes?" He spat the word, his eyes ice-cold. "Move to Metropolis."
And on that note, he was gone. Julio stood staring at the door for another long moment, thinking, and Carl sidled up beside him. Very quietly, she said, "He protected us. He's still protecting us."
Julio shook his head. "He's right, though. That doesn't make him safe. Black Mask still has a huge hate-on for that guy. If Mask's people knew there was anyone in the city Red Hood might possibly give a shit about, we'd all be hanging off the bridge by our ankles for target practice."
She shivered, and Julio side-hugged her, hoping this with Mask would end soon.
…
First night out on real patrol with the boys. The already long night was just getting longer and each additional second danced across her nerves like a samba contest. A blast of humid air struck Kala as she stared down from the rooftop in the yellow light illuminating the alley below. She grimaced uncomfortably, feeling the moisture under her domino. Never had she been more grateful for her decision to ditch the trench; as the summer had progressed, it was just impossible to wear all the time; she'd have died of heat-stroke. Without the heft of it, there was less drama in the Blur's attacks, but she was making it up with skill and grace. Between the training with the Birds and the training with the Bats, her form was improving by the day.
They'd all been on stakeout for over an hour—she, Tim, Dick, and Bruce spread out across the perimeter and in constant contact with Oracle—and they'd been mostly silent the entire time, all listening for the signal. Kala was the only one chafing at the delay as usual; it was only through significant self-control that she wasn't fidgeting, as learning to simply stay still for long periods had been one of the hardest things to master. Her family very rarely lay in wait for anyone, Dad usually locating his target by super-hearing and swooping in when the time was right. Jason had Tim to locate for him, and then he'd drop in like a ton of bricks. Even Mom had done quite a bit of surveillance back in the day, but she'd admitted with a laugh that she'd been caught a time or two because her patience had run out. Forced inactivity had always been difficult for Kala, and this was putting it to a definite test. As it was, she wouldn't dare screw it up; she'd wait 'til dawn if she had to. It had taken too long for Bruce to trust that she was ready enough, and she wouldn't risk making him rethink that. Never mind how much patrolling she had already done with Dinah and Helena; that said, even the Birds rarely stayed perched for this long. Kala stifled a groan for frustration.
It didn't exactly help to know that she'd endure unending hell from both Dick and Tim if they knew all this waiting was making her crazy. Living in the shadow of Bruce all these years had made all of this second nature to them. The training sessions where she ran up against mental blocks, like holding still, had been a source of constant amusement for them. Apparently Jason took to the meditation-type stuff a little better than she did.
At least she'd been able to surprise them with sparring. If her brother hadn't been pulling his punches out of fear of the damage he could do, as she understood he had during his training with the Bats, they might not have been. But then, her strength had never been one of her more prominently-utilized powers, so it had become something most people forgot about, regardless of her origin. No one, certainly not Dick or Tim, had ever expected her to fight hard and dirty.
Looking back on all those training sessions, she grinned again. Being that unpredictable in a fight had become the main thing keeping the boys off her back. Well, besides her having been raised with a brother and therefore half-prepared. Because the only thing deadlier than their moves was the razor-sharp snark out of a Robin's mouth.
But her moment of mental self-congratulations was derailed then, as Oracle's voice finally sounded in her ear, the com-unit going live. "They're on the move. South-western quadrant."
About damn time, she cursed silently, swiveling as she rose from her perch to launch herself in the direction Oracle had indicated. God, it felt good to just move at this point. Any more time spent hunched over and still, and she'd worried that she might turn into one of the gargoyles that seemed to decorate half the city. The thought brought a flash of gleaming grin. If I was an utter dork like Dick, this would be where I'd make a Gotham City joke. Thankfully for everyone, not a Robin.
Thanks to her training, her body responded as if she'd just warmed up, and she made the leap to the warehouse roof without even using a touch of her flight, landing easily on her toes to sprint across the roof and fall into another crouch at the opposite ledge. Her focus went right to the alley below, where Black Mask's men were starting to load crates onto a small, refrigerated truck. Weird. Why the heck do they need cold storage for drugs? she mused to herself.
The man himself—if he could even be called that, with that damn skull-thing for a face—wasn't present, but one of his senior lieutenants stood just outside the warehouse doors, directly beneath Kala, his arms crossed over a crisp suit as he supervised the transfer of the drugs. Kala couldn't help a snarl of disgust. The whole lot of them were scum and, after all she'd heard about his operations, they deserved everything Bruce had planned for them.
All Kala had to do was wait for the signal from deeper into the alley, a movement of shadow that she knew would be there when Bruce gave the 'go', and she'd be the one to swoop down and get the party started. Then it would be up to the Bats to come in and clean up the mess, taking each guy out one at a time as she drew any gunfire.
Of course, she wasn't exactly bullet-proof right now, but she had a borrowed kevlar vest under her costume. That, coupled with speed, went a long way, and she'd always loved turning heads—
A flash of the tip of a cape, shadowy movement in the dark of the alley, and the signal was given. Leaping down from her perch, Kala prepared to land right in front of Black Mask's lieutenant, her plan to sweep his legs out from under him before setting in on the hired muscle.
But gunfire erupted before she even made it down from the roof, coming in from a direction she hadn't anticipated, from the opposite end of the alley, where none of Mask's men had been sighted. Over her comm, Tim called out a brusque warning, and Kala snarled under her breath, "Who's this trigger-happy asshole?!" Instinctively, she grabbed her target around the shoulders when she landed, pulling him down and out of the line of fire. Damn ethics, but what other choice did she have? Regardless of the horrors that their boss ordered at times, killing these creeps wasn't an option.
To her shock, her rhetorical question was answered, a new voice speaking in her comm. Gruff, male, and amused. "Name's Red Hood," he told her. "Stay outta my line of fire, kid."
Red Hood, again. Wonderful. Kala just growled, and the lieutenant she'd knocked down was starting to look lively. "Stay down," she ordered as she knocked his handgun away with a swift kick, the alley suddenly filling with bright flashes and the deafening roar of a dozen men all firing wildly, all of them shouting too, incomprehensible beneath the cacophony. Her head spiked in pain; she hadn't knocked her hearing back from high-alert. Returning to a crouch and shaking her head to clear the sudden throbbing of her eardrums, she reclaimed her bearings and took quick stock of the situation. None of the gunfire seemed to be aimed at her, but instead at the direction of their unexpected company, so none of the thugs were at all prepared for the Bats as they surrounded them, precision strikes delivering pain and impermanent paralysis. So the Hood stole my thunder there. I wonder… But the thought was forgotten as she plunged into the fray.
One by one, the hired muscle fell, Kala joining the action with a few well-aimed strikes of her own to take down two men. A few more seconds, and the alley went relatively quiet, Kala's ears ringing as she swiveled to check that all of Black Mask's men were accounted for. As planned, they were all down for the count, unconscious, a few bleeding, save for—
One more sudden gunshot, and Kala jerked her head up in instant reaction to find Black Mask's lieutenant lurching forward from where he'd been trying to reach for his gun, his hand going to his shoulder instead as blood poured from a fresh wound.
"What the hell are you doing, Hood?" Dick shouted, and Kala whirled to see Nightwing stalking across the sea of comatose thugs to grab their unexpected visitor around the bicep. "You were not read-in on this one, and we had it under control. If any of them die, it's on your hands."
But Kala didn't even have a moment to process what had just happened, as her comm unit hissed with sudden static, and Oracle's voice met her, "Blur, O. Report."
Tearing her gaze away from the scene that was brewing near the mouth of the alley, Kala activated her comm with the touch of a finger, and replied, "Targets are all down and accounted for. At least one shot, nonlethal. B and R are securing the rest."
"Understood. Ambulances are on their way. Oh, and give Red Hood my regards."
"Yeah, sure. Will do. Blur out."
Turning back to the shouting match that was escalating between Nightwing and Red Hood, Kala let out a heavy breath. So this was the elusive Jason Todd that she'd heard about and encountered so briefly, the infamous absent brother and second former-Robin. From what she could see of him, all leather and denim, capped with a literal red helmet with indiscernible eyes, she had to wonder, was the little she'd heard of him true? Only one way to find out.
…
Jerking his arm out of Dick's grip, Jay stowed his gun in its holster and snarled beneath his helmet, "If any of them die, don't think it won't make me happy. But for your information, I was shooting to incapacitate. I can aim."
Dick only stepped closer, moving right into Jay's personal space as Bruce and Tim worked on zip-stripping the fallen thugs, the Blur a little ways off, talking into her comm, probably to Oracle. "Still not your call, Red."
A flash of rage surged through Jay, and he sucked in a breath, straightening to match Dickie-Bird move for move. "I had Mask's little hatchet job fair and square. This was my case from the get-go, so if you think you're just gonna swoop in and take all the credit, you are sadly mistaken."
"We're all well aware of your work with Mask's organization," Dick shot back, pressing closer, if it was at all possible. As if the allusion to his personal little gang war held any sway over him. That was ages ago, and the blood Jay had spilled to try to take down Black Mask was good and dried up by now. His ties to the current case, however, weren't.
And he'd had entirely fucking enough of Dick's little show. Resisting the urge to pull his weapon back out, he planted his hands on Dick's chest and shoved him, hard, sending him stumbling to regain his balance. "Do you even have any idea what they're transporting?" Jay spat. "Do you?"
Dick's mouth thinned into a hard line, his jaw working as if he was searching for an answer. After a tense moment, all he came up with was, "Heroin. Cocaine. A dozen other controlled substances."
Jay couldn't help a barking laugh at that. "Drugs? Really? In a refrigerated truck?" he taunted, stepping over to the vehicle. A hop up into the back, and he came out with a cheap cooler, the white styrofoam container lifted out of one of the crates. "It's a little more involved than drugs, Dickie."
With a quick tug on the lid, he opened the cooler, exposing the contents.
And he snickered when Dick's face went pale at the sight a neatly-wrapped human liver, nestled in a bed of ice.
"Is—is that—?" Dick sputtered, pointing at the clear-plastic packages, their contents completely visible, and certainly recognizable from their shapes.
Jay scoffed, surveying the other coolers. At least they were labeled. "Livers. Kidneys. A couple sets of lungs, with hearts. Couple of eyes, oh look, even some tendons. You name it, they harvested it."
He could sound detached to Dick, but he wanted to howl with rage. These organs had been harvested earlier in the day; he'd missed saving these people's lives by mere hours. Babs had gotten him the info he needed and he'd tracked down one of Mask's men and eventually convinced him to talk, but it had all taken just a little too long. How many dead bodies were in that warehouse? How many kids like the ones he'd just left behind last night?
By then, Bruce and Tim had finished securing Mask's men, and they and Goth Barbie had all gathered around, looking on with slightly ill expressions. The girl looked especially green around the gills, obviously not used to seeing this particular side of the job, although she was obviously trying to power through.
"You had no idea," Jay scoffed, a more bitter anger settling in as he realized just how clueless they all were. "This is what I've been following while you were playing with drugs. All the chatter about missing runaways? Prostitutes? Rival gang-members? Where'd you think they were all going, fucking Narnia?! Are you kidding me!?" he shouted, shoving the cooler back in place. Just fucking figured that they had no damn idea what was going on out here.
Bruce, of course, had the audacity to look not even the slightest bit embarrassed for their lack of intel, his arms crossed over his chest. "All the evidence we had pointed to a major drug operation, running out of a set of fifteen locations spread throughout the city. And this warehouse was the central hub. There was nothing to indicate … this."
Jay rolled his eyes beneath his helmet, curled his hands into fists. "This was the central hub, all right," he started, his voice rising with his rage, "of a black market organ harvesting operation! They've got a client list a mile long! Been bunching the kids for weeks, then harvesting all at once. Kept the organs nearly frozen, just enough to keep them alive while they extorted a bunch of rich assholes' fortunes. If they're running drugs too, it's a sideline, part of keeping their 'donors' quiet 'til the surgeons start in." Turning his gaze on the girl that'd had the misfortune of teaming up with his idiot family tonight, he asked, "What about you? You got anything intelligent to add?"
She only crossed her arms over her corset-top—seriously, a corset-top, in this town?—and frowned at him, her left eyebrow raising over a black domino. Her eyes narrowed as she boldly met his gaze head-on. Entirely too much like a Bat. For a brief second, Jay wanted to smack the look right off her face, but that would just be too fucking easy. "Oracle sends her regards," she spat at last, the tone implying words far stronger than that, her body shifting to project a faux-confidence that Jay had seen way too many times now, mostly on hookers and little girls that fancied themselves heroes until they got their asses killed. Her gaze never leaving his, she added, "Ambulances and police are on their way. We might want to take this elsewhere, boys."
Right on cue, the faint sound of wailing sirens started up, growing louder fast. It wouldn't be long before they got here.
"Fuck," Jay swore, before nodding to the girl, "Tell O to call for medical reinforcements. These organs won't last out here, and maybe they can still do somebody some good."
Tim spoke up then, "What about the people those were taken from?"
Jay smirked darkly, his gut twisting. "You think there's a chance in hell Mask left them alive? Don't be an idiot."
But time was running out. Nodding to the bunch of them, he barked out, "Fifty-third and MacArthur, inside the old parking garage, twenty minutes. I'll give you everything I've got on Mask's operation," and without another word, shot off his grapple for the rooftop to high-tail it outta there. Little as he liked sharing information with the Bats, this was more than he could take on by himself. At least, if he tried to do it some other way than just killing every-damn-body involved. Even then, Mask would get wary, and Jay wanted to put that fucker back in Blackgate where he belonged.
So, play nice with the 'family' and show them up, too. There'd be time for introductions and mission briefings soon enough, plenty of time to read them all the fucking novel of intel he'd gathered over the last four months. But man, how he wanted a proper introduction to the pretty little Goth Princess. There had to be a story behind that attitude, and that stupid outfit.