Robin landed at the bottom of a pit, where a door was locked in front of him. Moments ago he had incorrectly answered a question regarding the Mandarin written language. Damn it I knew it.

"It looks like the Boy Wonder knows too little for my taste- a poor imitation, really." The voice came from overhead, echoing down the dark, rectangular pit. Keep underestimating me. "I'll get to him later." Cluemaster proceeded with the questions. He considered using his grapnel gun to get up, but the cover of the trap door closed again before he had the chance. The pit was narrow and it was almost impossible to move his arms. Up above he heard another person fall. Damn. After a few minutes their captor concluded the game and the other two hostages were allowed to leave.

"Are you going to let us out?" it was the old woman's voice.

"Sure, sure, you will simply have to answer more questions. These will be far more difficult to answer."

"Oh... I don't know..."

"I'll begin. How soon after your husband died of cancer did you look for a replacement?" I hate everything you represent.

"What? How... you don't know..."

"He does research on people ahead of time. He didn't take you at random." Robin offered, interjecting.

"That's enough from you, now answer the question." There was a long silence before she said anything.

"He... wasn't dead." she responded, crying.

"I'm afraid I'm looking for a unit of time, Martha-"

"You asked the question under false pretenses, Arthur. Let her go already." The sound of a door clicking open could be heard.

"How about a similar question for you, then? Who killed Batman?" He's asking me because he doesn't know. I could say anything- but it won't help.

"Deadshot." He answered simply, hearing Martha's confused reaction and opening the door as it unlocked. Behind it he found a room with a screen on the wall, the masked face of Arthur Brown talking to them.

"Batman... no, he can't... my grandson..."

"Next question- if you could only save one of your children, which would you choose?"

"Abe." she responded, not even resisting. It was a sad and sickening sight. Cluemaster belongs in Arkham.

"Perfect. You're good to go, though a minor penalty awaits you for missing a question. I'm sure you already know what it is." Robin was sure she exited, though whatever sound that would have told him would be too faint to hear. She left without a word. I couldn't save her. I couldn't save anyone here.

"What's your last question?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know, Dick? Yes, I know your true name. After Hush went to prison, he told the rest of us about the rumors circulating Blackgate. Based on that and the premature disappearance of the bat signal, I surmised that Deadshot had most likely been successful in his mission he received from the Court of Owls." Robin kept his expression under control. Of course he knew it was Deadshot- he wanted to see if I would lie- the Court of Owls? When the hell did they get involved in this. "Don't feel bad, though. You did the best you could, I'm sure, but after a long enough time, the simultaneous disappearance of Batman and Bruce Wayne would be found out. Had I been in your situation, though, I would probably have sent several other men overseas, to the hospital, or prison, because with each one the possibility of your intellectual superior lampooning as a reclusive drunk would decrease."

"There's no one else Batman could have been." Robin explained simply. "People had theories about his being a cop or an instrument of the mob, but no specific individual in Gotham could really fit the bill except Wayne. We frequently went so far as to have members of the League photo op with him while wearing the suit. What's your question?" Impatience would get him nowhere. If he wanted to show Cluemaster he 'meant business' he would do it later by breaking both of his knees.

"Very well. What motivated the Batman?" Oh, so this one's actually free response.

"You don't remember the Waynes being killed, then. I don't either, it happened before I was born. Bruce struggled with their deaths for years, he faced a total lack of justice, which in my view disturbed him even more greatly than losing his parents. People die every day and for two of them to be related to you is no particular surprise, logically speaking, and there's no reason it wouldn't happen at the age of eight. He had been raised with good values and had always possessed a strong will, but the fact that the killer didn't face anything resembling justice for decades made him desire revenge, which he would later realize only made the problem worse. Many imagined that he was essentially this steadfast stake in the current, but I highly doubt that he was completely static at any point, which is to say he was receptive to new information and challenges to his philosophy." Arthur nodded, looking unexpectedly satisfied with the information. Batman had a theory that many of the questions he asked were not to random people, had answers he did not know, and contributed to a growing database making him all the more knowledgeable, which made him one of the most dangerous men in Gotham, when not distracted.

"Your antidote, Robin." A panel in the wall beneath the screen from which Cluemaster pontificated moved to reveal a chemical bottle on a tray. "I should really mention, though, that as punishment for missing a question, you have received a slightly lower dosage than necessary to fully counteract the poison."

"Elaborate." He said simply as he took the chemical, making sure to save some in order to analyze it. If I really have been presented with an insufficient dosage, it's likely only delayed my demise. I need to know what it is that I'm taking.

"Your intellectual leader would have been able to figure it out. I recommend doing so, or dying in the attempt." Robin ignored whatever else he would possibly want to say as he began searching the building for evidence, knowing he was being monitored. Regaining access to the upper area, he found nothing in particular and redirected his attention to the security room. Radio towers serve as an essential city-wide means of communication, especially during disasters. Taking them down is a serious offense, and as such there are usually at least a few cameras monitoring people coming in. Reviewing the footage, he found the point where Arthur entered, though in disguise. He knew he was being taped. At least I have the point where he wired in the communication. That was more interesting than watching Black Mask goons help set everything up. Reaching the place where the audio visual link was established, he knelt over it with a Birdarang.

"Perfect. I know exactly where you are. All I need is a little time to get over there." He cut a few wires, severing the connection. I don't know where he is and I don't know whether or not he realizes it. What he's going to do, though, is he's going to come back here in person to fix the cables. He was here in person because he didn't trust the mooks to do it properly without his supervision.

Before leaving, he planted a small explosive on the electronic lock on the door which lead out to the street after having already covered all other escape routes. He'll radio Great White for help, but I might get there first and there's no way to know if the shark will show.

His radio started to respond again.

"Robin? Do you read me?"

"Commissioner?"

"There you are- where have you been?"

"I've been tracking down Cluemaster. I was at a radio station, so there was probably-"

"Cluemaster? Cluemaster? Lynns is torching the better part of Gotham East and you're going after Cluemaster?"

"This is the first I've heard of it. Where's Firefly now?"

"He's cutting off access to the reservoir. He planted bombs on the water towers before drawing attention to himself." Bombs? He's expanding his resources.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Bard has the situation mostly under control. It's unlikely we'll need you to bring down Lynns." By 'under control' you mean he's going to kill a sick man. He disconnected and set off immediately. Traffic below was moving inchmeal, and it would be impossible to use it to his advantage. All things considered, Bard is really only going by his training, though he should really have been apprised of the purpose of a criminal justice system.

Making it out over the bay, he saw the terror unfolding before he could hear any of it. Giant bursts of flame flared into the sky as he neared the destruction, unconsciously accelerating into the scene of chaos.

Robin landed on the roof of a private dwelling, something he resented doing, but did in order to ready his grapple.

"I've gotcha Lynns-" He began as he fired and missed at the flying pyromaniac. "Damn." The cable immediately returned and he prepared to fire again. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he caught the attention of his target as the police cars came careening around the corner.

"Looks like Batman made a feeeew budget cuts!" He shouted while flying, turning his flamethrower on Robin, who had already tossed a unit of thermite his way. The explosion did little more than distract Lynns in his blast proof armor, but it had been the opening he wanted, firing again with his grapnel gun. The target jerked and dove suddenly as the hook pierced his armor, which would have disrupted Robin more had he not been harnessed by wires running through his costume. The electric motor pulled him up about half the way and he grabbed onto Firefly as he was jerked upward. He can't use explosives at this proximity- his fire would kill me, but he would be too injured to escape the police. They could hear shouting from the streets below. His best bet is to climb, get out of their range. As soon as each of them had a free hand they traded blows, but he was faster from experience and training. If he's going to burn me, he'll use his thruster. As they continued their exchange of striking and blocking, Robin noticed burns developing on his forearms. I can't keep this up. As Firefly grabbed his shoulder for a blow, he released him, went for a Birdarang, and held up an arm to block. The pain that tore into his elbow was incomparable. He hit me with his damn flame gun! Robin stabbed his enemy in the leg and went for his throat with a free hand, at which point Firefly released him and punched him in the gut as they began to stop climbing, his hand no longer on the control.

For a brief moment they were still in the air as they both screamed from a combination of fatigue and pain. Compressing arteries, Robin finally succeeded in cutting bloodflow, which he used as an opportunity to restrain Lynns and knock him unconscious before activating his thruster to keep from crashing. As he stood on the ground, he nearly passed out.

"Lynns is out... he needs to go to Arkham." he said perhaps out of habit to the officers removing the equipment. Inspector Bard approached him at a deliberate pace.

"Robin. As I understand it, your intentions are mostly good and contribute to the safety of the city. Do not, however make the mistake of getting in the way. When you are engaged in hand to hand combat with anyone- Bane, Firefly- we hold our fire. Are you doing this to keep us from firing on the target?"

"This time I was. Lynns is mentally ill. He's not eccentric, he's not one of the ones putting on a show, he's the opposite- mentally compromised, but pretending to be a sane serial arsonist doing it for fun. There's a reason Killer Moth won't work with him anymore." Robin paused, noting that Bard was simply waiting for him to finish. "Look into his background. As much of a danger to public safety as he is, he's one of the only psychopaths in this city who actually is a sad, sick man."

The conversation concluded without significant delay, as Bard was needed with Firefly's gear. Robin guessed he did not appreciate the inability to fire on Lynns, especially with a kid telling him how to do his job, but he was not actually petty enough to complain about not being needed, or worse, not feeling needed. It was a childish reaction, as it hardly mattered who took care of the villain, especially when by Robin's method they would be able to question him. Bard was no child, and reserved comment that the police already had the situation under control and his energies might have been better spent elsewhere, probably because he had no actual recommendations.

He caught sight of Gordon, writing up Firefly until he in turn caught sight of Robin, simply staring. Walking over silently, he noticed the red flower he had stuck into his belt was showing, and was somewhat singed.

"What do you have there?" the commissioner asked.

"It's from the mayor's office. If we're lucky, it has some of the real Hill's DNA on it."

"The real mayor? What are you-"

"Hugo Strange believes that Hamilton Hill was killed and replaced. Maybe the original is around somewhere, we don't know. If not, this may be the only surviving piece of evidence that the mayor of a few days ago is not the same one of today."

"Is this about his recent tirade against you and Batman?" Gordon asked, interested but clearly unwilling to just accept the information. "If you ask me, that's nothing out of the ordinary."

"I haven't been watching his pointless press conferences. I knew he wasn't worth anything as a mayor from the age of ten. Was it another spiel about how masked heroes don't exist?" I suppose I'm not really trying to get back on his good side.

"No. If you're right about this whole body double thing, the fake's a lot smarter than the original, because he doesn't repeat himself. On the advice of a criminal psychologist, he labeled Batman and probably you as psychopaths. They've accused him of driving the Joker and many others insane based on their sessions at Arkham." He paused a moment. "You don't seem shocked."

"I'm not. Strange said he was going over to Black Mask- I wouldn't take that to be true, but I can be certain it was Cluemaster, on team Sionis who broke into the mayor's office- this plan was probably Strange's all along, or he jumped in at the part where he advised the mayor to label me as a psychopath. I'm glad you've ignored the order."

There was a brief silence.

"Robin, Batman was my greatest friend and ally for many years, but before that, I opposed him. I believe in doing things by the book, he broke the law whenever it didn't suit him. Stealing evidence from crime scenes, breaking and entering, traffic violations, kidnapping- he had reasons for it, of course, but the side effect was that we would get calls about his activities and be distracted from other work. When the law doesn't apply to one person, it doesn't apply to anyone, so we had to chase him, at least superficially, which would get us in trouble with the mayor. What surprised me, more than anything, really, is that he didn't want anyone else to follow in his example. He respected my determination for following the law and discouraged vigilante activity committed in his name or by amateurs." He paused, turning to the moon in the distance. "You can understand my confusion when you appeared."

Immediately his internal organs sank.

"You thought he was raising me to be his replacement..."

"You were nine and he was in his twenties- the shoe fit, Robin. By the time he was too old, you'd already be started. He was too young to have a kid old enough to train- and then you came along. People in the department think this is just the plan coming together, even if it's a little ahead of schedule. It's what Hal Jordan thinks as well- yesterday he was on tv about how Batman had 'contingencies' for each member of the Justice League several times over. I don't think it's entirely true, I think he loved you. He was adamant like nothing I'd ever seen out of him or anyone else about making sure you saw the man who killed your parents go to jail."

"I remember." He kept himself from shaking. "He- never asked me to be Robin."

"Did he need to? Here you are, carrying the torch. You've killed your real identity, said goodbye to your former friends, except Barbara, though I think you see her as an ally. I can only imagine what she'd do if I died. She- she idolizes me. I heard her talking to you in snippets." He paused, reaching to his belt absently. "I've tried not to let it get to my head, and I've done my honest to God best at keeping her from following in my footsteps. I guess your father was different."

Grayson looked down to find that his wrists had been handcuffed.