On January 11th, 2013, I posted the first chapter of IWCtYaN on tumblr. Over the last year, it has gotten to be one of my most popular and most asked for stories. As I was wrapping up Flicker from View and other projects over the holidays, I decided the most fitting thing to do for the anniversary was to finish the story. So that's pretty much what I've been working on for the last two and a half weeks. This is the last regular chapter but the epilogue will be posted later today. Enjoy.

"Why the fuck aren't they here yet?!"

"Shut up, son."

"If they want her so bad, why the fuck aren't they here? I swear, if those fucking communists screw us over …"

"So, can he be any more of a little shit?" Jason muttered in Barbara's ear as they looked over their perch at the scene below. Off the waterfront on the better side of town, Gotham Heights was supposed to be this posh apartment complex before the development ran out of money and the investors dried up. They only managed to build the basic structure up to three floors — a horseshoe shape, the property had a now grassy space in the middle where the pool was going to be. That was where the Marcottis were, standing by their vehicles on one side of the horseshoe with the moon and cityscape giving them enough light to see. Luckily the gang was too busy trying to ignore Talon Marcotti griping to check for anything like movement sensors or audio surveillance.

"No really," Jason said, "How has no one socked him in the jaw since they all got here?"

"No clue," Barbara answered, "but don't talk so loud." They had found a spot on top of the building to watch and hear clearly while staying hidden, but she didn't want to chance their voices would carry.

"Sorry," Jason said, lowering his voice to a whisper, "Shit, there are only seven guys. Maybe we could just take them out now and grab the girl."

Barbara shook her head. "We still don't even know if they physically brought her here or not." It was true — she had wondered if they were keeping Sonya in one of the vehicles they came in, but there's been no sign of her out in the open. "Plus if we can get them talking about the deal with our bugs in place—"

"No no, I get it … still, when the others get here things are going to get a hell of a lot more complicated."

She didn't want to think about it. She knew he was right, but still didn't want to think about it when all they could do was sit and wait.

"Plus," he said, pointing towards the younger Marcotti below, "if we go for it now then I have a better chance of getting to punch Talon in the dick."

Barbara tried not to laugh, but a chuckle still slipped out. Jason had a point about how they worked well together, didn't he? Besides all the reasons he had brought up during their early morning talk, Jason also had a knack for defusing her nerves. If it wasn't so inappropriate for the mission, she might have kissed him for that. But that'd have to wait until after the mission. And of course she then started thinking about what else she could do to him after the mission.

"You know the plan, right?" she asked, trying to get back on track.

Jay nodded. "Smokescreen on your mark, you knock out whoever's holding the girl and get her out of the way. I take care of the rest."

She opened her mouth for rebuttal but he cut her to it.

"And I'll aim for the knees," he said, squeezing her kneecap for emphasis, "And some nice shoulder shots in there, too. Nonlethal unless absolutely—"

The sensors interrupted him and they both looked below. Barbara managed to reset the system and put it on silent alert just as two more cars pulled into view, parking on the far side of the plaza. Five men stepped out and if the showdown setup wasn't evident before, the Parchikovs stood together in a straight line, arms crossed and silent. Barbara half expected a tumbleweed to cross right in the middle of the 200 feet between the two groups.

"You have the girl?" one of the Parchikov men (a shorter, spiky hair guy) asked, cutting the silence with his thick accent.

"You have the money?" Talon threw back before Mr. Marcotti shushed him.

"You don't get money until we see girl!" shouted another Russian (hulking frame with a buzzcut and a neck tattoo of a skull).

"Show the damn money!" Talon snapped.

"Watch your tone!" another Parshikov called back.

"Look," Talon's father said as calmly as possible, "this isn't my first meeting with your people. I know you always bring a higher-up here to negotiate. We will speak to him now."

"We wait," spiky hair said, "We wait until you show us the girl."

The thug with the neck tattoo scoffed. "My dazhe ne znayu, yesli eto devushka yavlyayetsya docher'yu Dmitriya."

The younger man stood firm. "Dmitriy skazal-"

"Dmitriy vse yeshche lyubit svoyego ispanskogo shlyukhu!"

"Hey, this is America!" shouted Talon from across the way, "so speak English!"

"Shut your mouth," snapped his father.

"How do we even know you have her?" Neck tattoo yelled back, moving forward two steps, "We already took you for your word and you fucked over the deal!"

Talon's eyes looked ready to bulge out of his head, but his voice stayed level. "Do you really want to take the chance? We could just kill her."

"If you think—"

"That is enough!" The voice, feminine and imperious, cut through the air and silenced all the visible players. With the Bentley's back door opened, a cherry red kitten heel stepped onto the coarse gravel of the property. Following the heel was a woman in her early 60s, wearing a well-tailored, cream-colored skirt suit with her silver hair in a french twist. As the elegant, formidable woman came to stand with her fellows on the Russian side, her men stood a little taller while the Marcottis looked far more nervous.

"Dasha," Marcotti Sr. greeted her with a slight nod from his side of the grounds, "I was not aware you would be joining us."

"You are holding my granddaughter hostage, Joseph," the woman said in a thick Russian accent, "Did you not think this of the highest importance to me?"

"Of course it is," he said, keeping his stance, "And it is good to see you. You look well."

After looking Marcotti Sr. up and down, Dasha Parshikov said something in Russian to the same guy who snapped at Talon earlier. He responded back in Russian, never taking his eyes off the Marcottis.

"Although clearly we know why you are here, Joseph," she said, tugging off her elegant, also cream-colored wrist gloves one finger at a time before handing them to the man at her side, "if any of my sons were so incompetent to lose a pack of little girls—"

"Hey!" Talon shouted, "I'm not the one in jail, you old—" He managed to move forward a step before his father yanked him back.

"Be quiet, Talon," Joseph said. He pulled his son close and whispered something into his ear and then pushing him back into the fold.

Dasha smirked as she watched the power struggle. "Perhaps you can keep your …" she took her time to eye the group, "men calm so that we may get to business, yes?"

All members of the Marcotti side looked both pissed and on the cusp of pulling a weapon. On instinct, Joseph Marcotti held up his hand to ensure the men behind him stayed at bay. For their part, the Russian thugs stood firm, the one closest to Parshikov handing her one of two briefcases.

"25 thousand," she explained, "The rest will be given after I know she is who you say she is."

Marcotti smirked. "Frank," he turned back towards the driver, giving him the go-ahead to open the car door. The slumped figure of Sonya Rameriez was pulled up to her feet, her hands tied behind her back. She was standing on her own, but trembling.

"Let me see her—" Madame Parshikov said, already stepping forward, but was stopped with five sets of guns pointed right at her. She held up her hands, rolling her eyes and moving forward more carefully. "Clearly you may shoot me at any point, so let me come near so I may see my apparent kin." While one of Marcotti's men counted the money and Parshikov inspected the girl, who looked about as afraid to face Dasha as the men around her.

"Do you always treat women so poorly, Joseph?" Even with the gag in her mouth, it was clear that Sonya had been smacked around.

"You're one to talk, Dasha," Marcotti said. Despite his obvious anxiety in her presence, the man's lip curling in disdain. She ignored the comment, instead choosing to take the girl's chin in her hand and tilt her face up.

"Do you know who I am?" the older woman asked firmly.

Still trembling, Sonya managed to say, "You—you know my dad. That's why all this happened, right?" It was when Sonya opened her eyes that Madame Parshikov's face softened.

"Well?" asked Marcotti.

It took her a moment to answer him, caught up in her own thoughts. "Yes," Dasha sighed, "the resemblance to my Dmitri is uncanny. She is who you say she is. Come pet." She took Sonya's hand.

"I just want to go home," she got out.

"Do not worry, golubushka," Parshikov said, pulling the girl back towards the rest of the Russians, "We're taking you to your real home."

The words seeped into Sonya and she reacted with screaming and thrashing.

"Anton!" Dasha snapped her fingers. Neck Tattoo on the Parshikov side ran forward to grab the girl and pull her to their side of the clearing. His boss followed with an ever-present calm, her heels making a muddled clicking noise with each step in the gravel. Up above, Barbara was just trying to reevaluate their plan.

"Damnit, this is going to be close," she whispered.

"Batgirl, we have a probl—"

"We need to get to Sonya before they put her in the car."

"Barb," Jason grabbed her arm, bringing her attention to the faint blinking light of their sensor system. The gears in Barbara's head started turning and dread hit her.

"Oh no."

"Now that that's settled," Joe Marcotti said below them, "Give us the other briefcase and we can all go home."

Now a few feet away from her men, Dasha Parshikov paused mid-stride before slowly turning on a pivot to face the Italians. Even Sonya stilled in the arms of her grandmother's brute and the construction site became eerily quiet.

"Ah," the matriarch said, "how quaint — you think you're getting the money."

Shadows moved behind the Marcotti's and they were quickly surrounded by a ten or so men with guns pointed right at them. Knocking their enemies' guns to the ground, the men forced the Marcotti crew to their knees.

"Believe it or not, Joseph," Dasha walked forward, "I was impressed by your terms initially. To hold my grandchild ransom — someone who you couldn't even be sure was truly my blood — and then ask for a business deal along with cash? 'That takes some balls,' I thought. 'I can respect a move like that.' So yes, I gave you that test — a small taste of what my people do every month with absolute precision," she said, "and your little shit-faced child couldn't even handle that.

She bent over to face Marcotti. "You think," Dasha said,taking his face in her hand, "that you can threaten my family, demand I give you my business, fuck it all up and then expect me to accept your incompetence?"

"You—" Talon sputtered from behind his dad, "You had this all planned?!"

Dasha smirked and walked towards him. "Well, not quite to this plan, kotenok," she said, patting his cheek, "I couldn't be sure if you were playing us about the girl, after all."

"Hood," Barbara whispered to him, "what the hell are we going to do now?" Sure, Sonya was still in plain view, but now there were nearly a dozen more men all ready to keep the girl with her new family.

"Sonya, love," Dasha called behind her where the teenager was still weakly struggling in the arms of Tattoo Neck, "You should watch this. See what we do to those who hurt us."

"Batsie," Jason said, "… What if we just let them take care of the Marcottis and then we grab the girl?"

Barbara stared down at the scene unfolding — the Parchikovs were leering at the Marcottis at their mercy, but the Russians were still waiting for Dasha to give the go-ahead.

"It's your call, Barbie," Jason whispered, "I'll follow your lead, but we need to decide now."

It was at that moment when everything went to hell.

"FREEZE!" Led by Barbara's dad, the police got the attention of the Parshikovs long enough for their captives to roll out of the way and get their guns back. Ten police against 20-some armed thugs for two warring factions. She was grateful Jason didn't trying to hold her back from jumping — no no, he followed her down to the chaos. After tossing a smoke bomb into the space between the two gangs, she threw bolas at the ankles of the nearest goons before running back towards the her dad and the other cops taking refuge behind the support beams close by. The two warring mob factions separating to opposite sides of the plaza.

"How the hell did you know about this?" She said her dad next to her, her back against one of the pillars as she got out batarangs.

"Your boyfriend told me."

"What!" A panicked Barbara snapped her face towards Jason, who was thankfully three pillars away and out of earshot.

"Yeah," her dad said, "he called from Bludhaven and said you might be over your head."

Goddamnit, Dick. "Nightwing's not my boyfriend!" She shouted over the sound of gunfight beyond their support beam.

"Oh," her dad said, "I never know with you two." And then he gave a look towards Red Hood, who just happened to be the middle of refilling his clip. The wheels in Jim's head were turning and she could only imagine how bad it all looked from his point of view — he probably saw the Vicky Vale news report at any rate. Despite the seriousness of their current situation and the amount of gunmen ready to shoot at them, Barbara still managed a tiny prayer thanking the universe that her dad didn't know she was Batgirl.

She leaned around the corner to see the score, moving back just in time to avoid a bullet aimed right for her. The Parchikov vehicles were still there, the goons too far away to make a fast escape. Or too dead. Some Parchikovs had fallen, but she didn't see Sonya among the bodies littering the ground. Sonya was somewhere here — but where? Checking back around the corner again, she caught a whip of dark brown hair of the corner of her eye. Barbara watched as Sonya, who managed to get out of her restraints, stumbled and lurched into the right arm of the building some 50 feet away, unseen by her preoccupied family.

Barb didn't hesitate.

"Keep them busy!" She shouted to her dad and didn't wait for his answer. Dashing behind Jason, she could just barely hear him and her dad call out to her through the barrage of bullets as she sprinted in the direction of Sonya. She threw a batarang at a Parchikov goon blocking her path before ramming into him and rushing through the door.

It took a moment to gain her bearings in the darkness. While the complex seemed simple on the outside with its horseshoe design and only the basic structure completed, plywood walls were put up for most of the walls before the project was abandoned. From what she could tell from the main space, it was all small rooms with only the light of the moon peaking through the gaps in the wood. She didn't even know how complex the second and third floors were. And while the plywood muted the sounds of the battle outside, it wasn't enough of a barrier for her to openly call out for the girl.

But then she heard the noise above her. Barbara bolted up the stairs to her left, looking in the second story rooms before hearing a noise above her head again. Running up into the single main room of the third floor, her eyes landed on the fallen form of—

"Sonya," she said as in a harsh whisper, coming to her side, "Sonya, can you hear me?" She didn't respond. The room was shadowed like the rest of the building and while it was hard to analyze the girl's injuries, Barb could at least tell that she was breathing, but unconscious. She had a nasty looking gash on her forehead — maybe from her captors — and Barbara couldn't fathom how the girl could get up two flights of stairs.

That was when she was put into a nasty choke hold. She struggled with her attacker, managing to get the gun to drop from his hands, but a moment later she was ripped from Sonya's side and thrown to the middle of the floor.

"Fucking bitch!"

Before she could react, a body was kneeling on top of her, his hands around her neck. She didn't know if he ran into the building to hide or if she didn't see him follow Sonya into the building, but Talon Marcotti was there and he was pissed.

"This is all! Your! Fault!" he shouted, bashing the back of her head against the ground over and over. "You stopped the deal, you called the cops, you ruined everything for me!" She tried to kick away, but she was still stunned from the blows to her crown and for a skinny guy he was strong. Rage in his eyes, Talon's hands were now set on crushing her throat.

"Stupid bitch," he gritted, his grip getting tighter, "fucking kill you." Barbara's veins were throbbing as the circulation got worse and worse. Her eyes were going fuzzy as her vision fell dark. This was it. After everything she had survived, this was it. She was going to die and she wouldn't get to say goodbye to her dad or Dick or —

WHAM!

The weight peeled off her and the pressure taken off her throat, Barbara heaved blessed air back into her lung. Her eyes blinking back into function, turned to her right and saw Jason point his gun at a cowering Talon. She was never so grateful to see that stupid Red Hood mask, the moon light reflecting off its finish.

"Don't hurt me," Talon said with a whimper, his hands up in a mix of surrender and defense, "I'll go quietly, just don't hurt me."

"Shut up," Jason said with a growl. For her part, Barbara just kept coughing. Crap, getting choked hurt. Like, really hurt.

"You okay?" Jason asked, turning his head to look at her but keeping the gun pointed at Talon.

"I will be," she hacked, "It-it was a close call." Barbara couldn't tell his reaction through the mask, but his empty hand clenched. She realized there was probably a bruise starting on the part of her neck that was exposed. She was about to suggest they cuff Talon (if only to get Jason to stop looking at her) when she heard Sonya stirring — Barbara moved to her right away.

"Hi Sonya," Barbara cooed, brushing the girl's hair out of her face, "I'm Batgirl. Your mom asked me to find you."

"My—my mom?" she asked weakly.

Barbara nodded. "Yeah. We're going to take you home now." She didn't respond. "Sonya? Shit Sonya, wake up."

"Is she okay?" Jason asked, his gun still pointed at Talon as he moved slowly across the room to grab the other man's gun.

"She keeps passing out. She could have a concussion. Hood, we need to…" her voice died away as she looked up to find Jason with Talon's gun in hand, the barrel against the thug's temple.

"Hood, no!" She lunged forward—

BAM!

Barbara froze. The world froze. And Talon Marcotti was lying on the floor, a bullet in his brain. Stunned, she watched Jason place the gun back into Talon's hand, closing his fingers over the pistol grip. She heard her dad call to her from outside and while she'd barely remember it later, she managed to confirm that Sonya was upstairs. And she would have stayed with Sonya, made sure the police got to her alright, but then Jason climbed up and over the makeshift window on the far side of the room. Blindly angry, she didn't even question chasing after him.

He had stopped on a rooftop blocks away from the construction site, taking off his helmet to smoke. He didn't bother to face her.

"Was wondering when you would catch up," he said flippantly, the glow of his lighter flickering on as he lit his cigarette.

"What … the hell … is wrong with you!" she yelled to his back.

"We saved the girl," he said, back still turned, "And I saved your life."

"Yes you did, Jay, and then you shot a man in the head."

"A little punk who almost killed you. I did what was necessary."

"He was begging for mercy!"

"He didn't deserve mercy!" he shouted as he turned on her, "He was a piece of human garbage! He tried to kill you! He tried to kill that girl! And he would have sold out his guys to the DA and been back on the street because the system is fucking broken, Barbara! So yeah," he said, leaning in, "I killed him. And I'm glad I did."

She gaped at him — Red Hood, all fury and carnage. A slaughterer of men. "I can't do this," she whispered.

The steel in his eyes melted at her profession. "Barbie, I—"

"No," she snapped. "Don't you dare say it." She went for the edge of the building.

"Barbie," he said, reaching for her arm, "please—"

"And don't follow me, Hood!" She shouted. And then she ran.

To Be Concluded …

Russian Translations:

"We do not even know if the girl is Dmitri's daughter."

"Dmitri said—"

"Dmitri still loves his Spanish whore."

Golubushka: "darling"

Kotenok: "kitten"